Movie review: Margot at the Wedding

The dark, dysfunctional side of a life of the mind.

by John P. Meyer

Noah Baumbach (The Squid and the Whale) is quoted as saying "I always viewed life as material for a movie." For his sake, I'm hoping that dictum doesn't apply to his latest writing/directing effort, Margot at the Wedding, because the familial relationships detailed (and I do mean detailed) in this film run the gamut from emotionally abusive to completely dysfunctional to functional in some sort of utterly impractical way.

As we open the narrative, Margot (Nicole Kidman) - a New York-based short fiction writer of moderate renown - is traveling by train with her post-pubescent-and-feeling-it son Claude (newcomer Zane Pais) towards a get-together with Margot's about-to-be-married sister, Pauline (Jennifer Jason Leigh). There's a rather prescient incident involving Claude's return from the choo choo loo: his thoughts elsewhere (perhaps on the unbearable isolation of adolescence), he takes a seat across from a woman who turns out not to be his actual mom. From what we learn later, this might be taken as an indication that his mother changes personalities so often that she's difficult to recognize, or - more likely - the tortured boy is subconsciously trying to get the Hell away from her. (Any port in a storm.)

Turns out Margot and Pauline have been totally out of touch for some time due to a torturous sibling dispute involving Margot's attempt to orchestrate the details of her sister's personal life - or maybe because she viciously undercut Pauline's standing with other members of the family, both being of equal likelihood. In fact, Margot and Claude's visit is so impromptu that Pauline is unavailable to pick them up at the station, so she sends her fiancee Malcolm (Jack Black) to meet them.

The Jack Black appearing in this film bears no resemblance (except physically) to the sorts of characters we're used to seeing him play - his Malcolm is a self-indulgent, talentless ne'er-do-well (yes, I know this is sounding pretty familiar, but read on) who's somehow latched onto a beautiful and unpretentious woman (Ms. Jason Leigh) and sees reflected in her eyes a person with a modicum of value. (Erroneously, it turns out, but nonetheless...) The oddity is that Mr. Black plays this role utterly and devastatingly straight, resulting in a characterization that embodies all of the actor's annoying traits and none of his smirk-inducing, arguably endearing ones.

For her part, Ms. Jason Leigh - spouse of the director/writer, by the way - continues to astound from a purely visual standpoint as a lovely and completely natural actress who can't seem to age no matter how hard she might be trying. As opposed to her caustic portrayal of Dorothy Parker in Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle (1994) - a film that bears a superficial thematic resemblance to this one, though in a more focused and ultimately satisfying manner - she plays here a laid-back individual more prone to acceptance than criticism. In counterpoint, Nicole's Margot takes on the caustic (nay, acidic) persona of an egomaniacal intellectual who, in her personal relations, becomes an anal-retentive controller, adept at finding fault in everyone but herself.

When Margot climbs a tree on the family property to demonstrate the sort of aptitude she once had for tree-climbing, it's telling that all in attendance (including Claude) soon lose interest and drift back to their croquet-centric backyard activities - even as she appears to be encountering some branch-cracking trouble high above the ground. Subconsciously (once again) there's good reason to suspect that all involved are hoping she falls to her death.

This illustrates at least one great success of Mr. Baumbach's movie: it excels in exploring the dark side of a life devoted to intellectual pursuits. We get the sense that Margot may be seeing everything that happens as some sort of fictional treatment she can massage and rewrite in various ways, crafting the material to alter character interactions and outcomes. In terms of the adults in her sphere of acquaintance (her husband, on whom she's cheating; her sister, for whom she evidences a sort of indulgent, though occasionally virulent, disdain), this is all well and good, because their personalities are at least fully formed. When it comes to her son, however, the emotional trauma she unflinchingly inflicts amounts to outright criminal abuse.

In this fashion Baumbach succeeds on another level: in the character of Margot, he presents a beautiful woman who's so radioactively unstable that potential suitors would be crazy to lay hands on her for fear of the preordained consequences - a fact to which her current lover, Dick Koosman (Ciarán Hinds), can attest. One is led to conclude (through uncomfortably blatant demonstration) that Margot's most satisfying intimate encounters occur beneath the bedsheets under the ministrations of her own loving hand: at least in this scenario she retains complete control.

Equally discomforting are the portrayals of children in the film: left to their own devices (with adults off doing their adult-oriented things), these co-ed teens resort to conversations no less raunchy than those indulged in by their less-than-exemplary parental units.

Boomer-aged prog rock mavens: watch for a guest appearance by King Crimson's "In the Court of the Crimson King" - just the album cover, not the music, sad to say.

SO YOU'RE BOTHERED BY SCHIZOPHRENIA, THEN?: "Mom, could you take this away?" - re. King Crimson album cover

SPLITTING CRITICAL HAIRS: "He's not ugly, he's just completely unattractive." - Margot, re. Malcolm

IS SELF-KNOWLEDGE POWER?: "I have the emotional version of what bad feng shui would be." - Malcolm, in a reflective mood