Ironweed Blu-ray Review
An 'A' for acting and a 'D' for depressing.
Reviewed by Jeffrey Kauffman, April 4, 2013
Meryl Streep is an "inside out" actress, perhaps our greatest living proponent of the oft-derided Method, a performer who
finds the essential emotional truth of a character and builds her depiction from that fundamental foundation. This is one
reason why Streep so often seems to virtually disappear into her characters. Jack Nicholson, for all of his undeniable
brilliance, is an actor with such an oversize
persona that even his most striking performances seem suffused with
some ineffable "Jack"-ness that never totally goes away. Streep's influence may well have ameliorated that tendency on
Nicholson's part with regard to
Ironweed, a pretty dour and depressing outing that nonetheless finds Meryl in
typically brilliant "disappearance" mode and Nicholson not far behind in one of his most visceral and moving performances.
Based on a Pulitzer Prize winning novel by William Kennedy (who adapted his work for the screen),
Ironweed is,
despite a large and colorful supporting cast, by and large a so-called "two hander" that posits Streep and Nicholson as
two of the walking wounded in the depths of the Depression in Albany, New York. We're given a bit more of the back
story of Francis Phelan (Nicholson) than that of Helen Archer (Streep), though courtesy of Streep's ever meticulous
approach one
feels Archer's history even if it isn't as overtly detailed. The film is often quite difficult to sit through if
only because the two main characters are
so obviously damaged, but for those with the fortitude to persevere,
there may not exactly be the redemption promised by one of the supporting characters in the film, but there is some very
deep emotional content that is at the very least occasionally cathartic.
Streep of course has come in for her share of critical brickbats, especially from those who consider her penchant toward
dialects a sign of a preening ego rather than the serious attempt of an actress to represent the truth of a given
character.
Streep is certainly back in "full accent" mode here, albeit with a flat, harsh nasal tone that reveals the wasted remnants
of
Helen's inner life. Nicholson always sounds like Nicholson, just one reason why his personal characteristics often seem
to
at least compete (if not overwhelm) his performances, but he has some remarkable moments throughout
Ironweed that reveal some rather stunning emotional depths. An early scene finds Francis attempting to earn a
little scratch by digging graves at the local cemetery, where he seems to intentionally seek out the burial spot of his
long
dead infant son. That moment, while perhaps just a
bit too self-aware for its own good, offers an instant
window
into the tormented soul of Phelan and provides the first of many standout moments for Nicholson.
We soon discover that Francis has seemingly stumbled through life for some time and has been involved in several
deaths, all of which now literally haunt him in the form of alcoholic hallucinations. We're provided brief glimpses via
flashback into at least some elements of the character's rather convoluted past, just enough to give context while
providing a bit of dramatic impetus to the "current day" events. But the fact is that much of
Ironweed is a fairly
static enterprise, which may be one reason why, despite almost uniform raves for Streep and Nicholson when the film
was released (they were both nominated for Academy Awards for their roles), the film seemed more a
succès
d'estime than a bonafide smash. The film actually seems quite like a latter day Eugene O'Neill affair, full of damaged
characters engaging in semi-poetic dialogue that is distinctly at odds with their squalid surroundings, but there's little of
O'Neill's narrative push in
Ironweed, resulting in an actors' showcase that is all about character, with little story
to move it forward.
The main gist of
Ironweed is twofold, with Francis attempting to reconcile both with Helen, who has been his on
again off again companion for some time, as well as perhaps more significantly with his "real" family, whom he
abandoned years previously after the death of his infant son, which was due to Francis' drunken negligence. The
erstwhile family reunion arc gives
Ironweed even more opportunity for superb acting, this time on the part of
Carroll Baker, as Francis' long suffering (and long estranged) ex-wife, a woman who seems to have accepted the cruel
hand fate has dealt with her and who has learned to live with perhaps an equal amount of resignation and deeply
tamped down resentment. It's actually in these scenes where dialogue is only part of the equation and where
Nicholson must rely on
pure expressive power that he does what is arguably his best work in the film. There's a depth of sadness and regret
in Nicholson's eyes in some of these moments that is almost palpable.
There's an undeniable sadness, even moroseness, to
Ironweed that makes the film slow going, something only
exacerbated by its rather lethargic pace and extreme length. Director Hector Babenco (
Kiss of the Spider Woman) is more concerned with creating a mood,
something he does quite well in the film, but William Kennedy's screenplay offers little inherent drama or the
oft-maligned idea of character arc, since it's so patently obvious that Francis and Helen are never going to change.
There
are
hints of a change when Francis deigns to return to his ex-wife and attempts, unsuccessfully, to reconcile
with his two grown children, but it's seems a foregone conclusion going in to this enterprise that it's a fool's errand.
Instead we're privy to Francis' flashbacks, which only detail a seemingly unending series of tragedies and unfortunate
circumstances, as well as his increasingly unbalanced current mental state as evidenced by the "ghosts" from his
history who show up regularly to haunt him. That leaves the coda of sorts that appends this film to deal in some fairly
pointless violence and tragedy and an
ultimate feeling of hopelessness. It's enough to drive someone to drink.
