60. Ordinary People (1980)

by Sam Juliano

Note:  The following is a transcript of an extended conversation I had back in the fall of 2002 within the student union building at Montclair State University with a good friend, and a fellow movie fan, English literature graduate student Bill Riley.  The section of the talk printed here is the one dealing with Robert Redford’s 1980 award winner ‘Ordinary People.’

Sam:  Bill, have you ever found it more than a little curious that the 1980 Best Picture Oscar winner Ordinary People has suffered such an extensive backlash with critics and movie goers since it won, with some even going so far as to assert that it isn’t even a good film?!

Bill: Sam, I have in fact.  What makes it even more difficult to fathom is that the film won far more than the Oscar –  I recall it copped the Best Picture prize from the prestigious New York Film Critics Circle and similar citations from other groups nationwide and abroad.

Sam: So basically, most critics and moviegoers -or at least a good number of them- thought Ordinary People was the best American film of that year.

Bill: Pretty much so, I’d reckon.  Backlash is a potent force in arts competitions, and resounding success will always bring on more scrutiny and the Monday morning quarterbacking.  Success breeds it.  I’d say backlash includes the heightened voices of the devil’s advocates, naysayers and those who are thinking in terms of “I told you so.”  Those are the ones likely to admonish those who commit the mortal sin of overrating a motion picture.  (snickers)

Sam:  I know just what you mean Bill.  Oh it won the Oscar for Best Picture, so it has to be Oscar bait, unworthy or just plain forgettable.  Heck, All Quiet on the Western Front, The Godfather, On the Waterfront, Casablanca and Lawrence of Arabia won Best Picture Oscars too.  Does it make them overrated or undeserving?  Hmmm.

Bill:  Yeah, and my beloved Amadeus and The Last Emperor won Best Picture as well.

Sam:  I never disputed that the Oscars are a joke for all sorts of reasons.  Many voters don’t see all the films, studio money often buys nominations, and the group is generally myopic to recognizing foreign language films in the major categories.  Timing means more than artistry three-quarters of the time, and the time between the nominations and the actual awards can be framed as a shameless rat race.  Yet, they do make some good choices if for no other reason than the odds are on their side.  Every awards organization gets it right some of the time.  I’d like to say that I continue to believe that Ordinary People’s reputation was negatively impacted because of its Best Picture win.  The reason is because it won over Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull, a film that most think was superior.  Some, like Roger Ebert, named it the best film of the 1980’s, and those in that camp will always take Oscar to task for snubbing it.

Bill:  (laughs) Sounds like 1941 all over again.  How Green Was My Valley winning the Best Picture over Citizen Kane.  Dire stuff.  Mind you I do like How Green Was My Valley, but Welles should have taken home the bacon.

Sam: Bill, the actual point I am trying to make is not whether or not Ordinary People should have won the Best Picture in 1980 -though if I were a voter it would have received my support- but rather that its win have tarnished its legacy.

Bill:  I hear ya Sam.  I like the movie too, but I would have voted for either Raging Bull or The Elephant Man, both of which were nominated I think?

Sam:  Correct.  The other two were Coal Miner’s Daughter and Tess.  Not a bad lot, but for me the five English language films should have been:  Ordinary People, Raging Bull, Atlantic City, The Shining and either The Elephant Man or The Great Santini for the fifth spot.  Fassbinder’s German language masterpiece Berlin Alexanderplatz should have made any list of the year’s best films, and I have high regard for the Australian Breaker Morant.   For me it seriously challenges for the top spot.    (pauses)

Well, as Conrad Jarret (Timothy Hutton) says in the film – “anyway”  So how would you assess the cinematic value of the film, Bill?  The artistry?  What makes it so exceptional?  Does it hold up today?

Bill:  Well Sam, first off I’d like to say that Redford knew exactly what he was doing, and he never overplayed his cards.  The novel by Judith Guest, which as you know is still part of the high school curriculum across the country was a no brainer to adapt, and the appeal was universal.

Sam:  Why would you say that Bill?  After all, this is about an upper middle class WASP family living high off the hog in Lake Forest, a posh suburb of Chicago with seemingly no monetary restrictions.  They can take vacations at a whim to any location in the world, enjoy country-club memberships, own two cars and reside in a super large house that’s way too expansive for the Jarret family.  The father is a successful tax lawyer, and the socialite mother gives new definition to organization.

Bill:  That’s true Sam.  But what happened to the Jarrets when they were torn asunder by unthinkable tragedy can happen to anyone, anywhere and at any social level.  Smug with success and contentment can disappear at the bat of an eyelash.  Being privileged means nothing when emotional devastation is added to the mix.  To this end I will quote a critic (I forget who) who described it best:  “Privilege is a plywood tree house in a hurricane.”

Sam:  That’s a great metaphor indeed!

Bill:  At the risk of sounding hokey, I’d say that grief and tragedy are not alien to any social class, if anything the wealthier would seem to be less equipped to handle such a horrific event, since they would seem to have everything that money can by.  Further, I’d add that the disintegration of the Jarret family can be felt deeply by all who see the film, not just by those who relate to these types of families.  Sorrow, anguish, desolation, heartbreak, all are truly omnipresent.

Sam:  (applauds)  Great show there Bill.   Similarly, there is nothing about marriage dissolution that is exclusive to any class, obviously, and in both Guest’s spare novel and in the film adaptation, the strains of denial, guilt and mental breakdown are all too real; the vast majority have experienced these singularly or in completion.

Bill:  Absolutely Sam.

Sam:  Keeping the discussion on this point, I’d like to mention that while the Jarrets seem to be coping (in the opening chapters of the book and first quarter of the film) they are structured, studious, in control, and to beckon the book’s title, they are “ordinary” in the sphere of affluence they inhabit.  Conrad reads Hardy while being driven to school; Beth sturdily engages in tennis and golf; Calvin moves forward with his profession, serving the family and the understanding patriarch.  But beneath the surface the unmanageable anger and seething resentments threaten to rip this family at the seems, and as the film moves towards its shattering conclusion its clear these differences are inconsolable.

Bill.  Nice that you mention “control.”  That is exactly what Jarrett was trying to gain during his session with Berger the psychiatrist.

Sam:  Aye Bill.  Of course Berger admitted at the start that control was a “tough nut.”  But those scenes in the office were brilliantly written and acted – they really had emotional impact.  For example who could every forget the line when Conrad tells Berger that his mother will never forgive him because his suicide attempt ruined her bathroom rugs.  As I recall he said “She had to pitch it out.  They even had to regrout the tile floor.”

Bill:  Yeah, Beth Jarrett was as cold as ice, and Mary Tyler Moore gave an astonishing performance that most didn’t think she could pull off.  Some of the seemingly smaller moments are what I especially remember about the film – like when Jarrett doesn’t move fast enough on eating his French toast, and Beth liquidates it, or when she fumbles over whether or not she took “trig” in high school after Conrad interrupts her Ingmar Bergman-like meditative interlude in her dead son’s bedroom -a powerful scene for sure- and the crucial refusal to address the son’s heartfelt attempt to reach out to her, opting instead for the safety of answering a phone call from a friend.  Throughout the film Beth seems far more concerned with returning things to “normal” that to help facilitate Conrad’s healing.

Sam:  Yeah those are telling examples Bill.  Of course a much “bigger” scene occurs when Beth interrupts Calvin, asking for the camera as he tries to photograph mother and son, a proposition she abhors.  It leads to a profane outburst that finally makes Calvin see the light as to who is to blame for the impasse.  I agree that Moore doesn’t register a false note, and she later is electrifying on the golf course when she rebuffs relatives with a reference to the effects of the tragedy on her psyche.  Still she pretty much maintains her composure until the scene near the end when she breaks down while packing the suitcase in her bedroom.  I have always thought Moore’s character was riveting to behold -and the actress’ success as a comedian made her work here especially intriguing- but for me, it was Conrad -Timothy Hutton- who was the most interesting.

Bill: (nodding)  I really can’t argue with that Sam.  Conrad’s rehabilitation was the main focus of the story, and the arc of the narrative plays off his inability to deal with the loss of his beloved brother Buck.  Just to divert here a minute Sam, but I would like to ask you what you thought of Redford’s use of the flashbacks of the boating accident that haunt Conrad throughout.  Do you think they were largely effective?

Sam:  I do Bill.  Redford’s direction for most of the film was a kind of non-direction if you know what I mean.  He allowed the actors and the screenwriter (Alvin Sergeant) to carry the film without stylish intrusion – a very smart move in my opinion- but decided that he would use the flashbacks as the sole directorial device, and they had a jarring, powerful impact.  The visualizations that were punctuated by feverish waking effectively showcased the very images that have left his unnerved and despondent for the months since the accident.

Bill:  Agreed Sam.

Sam:  In any case, Hutton is never anything less than deeply troubled, always on the brink of a second suicide attempt, yet with the remarkable support of Berger – Moore told one of her kin in response to the question of his seeming Jewishness, that he might indeed be Jewish, or “maybe just German” Ha! – he begins to see an emotional light at the end of the tunnel.  Bill do you remember the exact moment Berger finally diminished Conrad’s incessant notions of guilt?

Bill:  Ah, let me see.  Didn’t he -Berger- tell Conrad something along the lines that he might have been “stronger” than his brother, but holding onto the boat, while his brother lost he grip and went under?  He added I think, that Conrad was needlessly torturing himself, but feeling culpable over surviving.

Sam: Right on.  I am thinking much the same.  Berger and Conrad came a long way since those early meetings when the young man told the shrink he didn’t really want to be there, that he jacked off  a lot (“What else is new?” responds Berger) and that he just didn’t connect with his mother.   Berger gets the boy to open up, even at the expense of some of the most painful memories surfacing.  (pause) As played by a marvelously effective Judd Hirsh -who brings a sharp-wit and an edge of cynicism to a compassionate interior- Berger is lightning fast to perceive and respond.  When Conrad tells him that his father “likes everybody” Berger shoots back “Oh I get it, the guy has no taste!”  When Berger arrives at his office in response to a frantic call from Conrad, he learns that the boy’s friend from the hospital has killed herself – he looks down and utters “Jeez” but rebuffs Conrad when he tell the doctor that she was “well.”  After a thorny doctor-patient association, the two bond in the film’s most cathartic passage – an embrace after Berger tells Conrad “You bet, you can count on it” in response to the boy’s question “Are you my friend?”  Its a genuine and heartfelt moment, very well earned and a culmination of how an unconventional approach can achieve the best results -in this case a common understanding that seemed impossible early on.  I’ll add that it is common knowledge that psychiatric chit chat often represents an easy way out for the writer, but in this film it acute examines the all-encompassing disaster brought one by unconscionable loss.

Bill:  I also have never forgotten the two girls in Conrad’s life – the intense but charming and cute Jeannine -played by Elizabeth McGovern, and the troubled Karen – played by Dinah Manoff.  Both are beacons in Conrad’s haunted existence.

Sam:  Both actresses are wonderful indeed Bill.  Ordinary People is one of those rare  films where even the bit parts are superbly chosen.  Adam Baldwin is the convincing loquacious high school jock, whom Conrad pummels in a fist fight near the school.  Fredric Lehne Ray, revealed as a very close friend of both Buck and Conrad, tries hard to reach his psychologically maligned friend.  Who could not remember the domineering swim coach played by the ever-reliable M. Emmet Walsh, who tells the boy he is “screwing up his life” by quitting the swim team.  I think we forget to discuss Donald Sutherland.  There can be little doubt the actor got one of the best roles of his career, and made the most of it.  Initially serving as a referee between his beloved wife and younger son, he is devastated by the family unraveling, though he eventually realizes it is his wife who is the essential culprit and the obstacle to effective reconciliation.  My favorite Sutherland scene -aside from the final sequence in the yard with Hutton- is the one where he asks Beth after arriving at house after a session with and requested by Berger- how ludicrous it was for her to ask him what he was wearing to their son’s funeral.  The actor registers the incredulous nature of his wife bizarre affectations in the shadow of the worst kind of tragedy known to mankind.

Bill:  What greatly impressed me about the film was the cinematography and the score.  Fall colors were a consummate match for the film’s grim austerity, and John Baily’s palette is painted by an enviable portrait of a lush suburb that masks family disintegration.

Sam:  Definitely Bill.  It was lovely work, no doubt guided on by Redford.  I also appreciated the corresponding mood established by composer Marvin Hamlisch who  brought new meaning and recognition of one of classical music’s most identifiable compositions – Pachebel’s “Canon.”  Used over the opening credits and subsequent shots autumn foliage and the church chorus where we first see Conrad, and them at the end, it was an inspired choice to help capture the mood of the film, especially with the solemn complicity of the piano, the instrument that more than any other gives aural authenticity to this psychological picture.

Bill:  I know some of the film’s critics -a minority- have claimed the ending was maudlin.  I completely disagree with that contention.

Sam:  It is a beautiful final scene, and packs an emotional wallop.  And it is very well earned.  When Calvin tells Conrad that he shouldn’t admire people so much, as they will disappoint you, Conrad turns and acutely declares “I’m not disappointed.  I love you.”  They then embrace.  It is one of the most deeply felt scenes in all of the cinema.  I practically tear up just thinking about it.

Bill: Sam, I’ll tell you what.  This discussion has me really wanting to watch the film again tonight.  Yes it is gloomy, but what film about the death of  the beloved oldest son and the subsequent suicide attempt by the surviving son of a once tightly knit family wouldn’t be a difficult film to watch again.  But at the end the new family dynamic seems sure to succeed, and some valuable life’s lessons have been learned.  Many families have suffered through some variations on this wrenching theme, and could relate.  But beyond that the film’s craftsmanship is impeccable and the acting and writing extraordinary effective.

Sam:  Amen Bill.  This is one of the most penetrating and resonant of American dramas, and well-deserves the accolades it won decades ago.    (end of discussion)

 

 

 

 

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