Movie review: Rachel Getting Married

by John P. Meyer

Jonathan Demme has long been one of my favorite directors, going all the way back to Melvin and Howard ('80). For my money, he's crafted the best band/concert documentaries out there (from '84's Stop Making Sense to '06's Neil Young: Heart of Gold). And of course his Silence of the Lambs ('91) set the standard for evil genius crime thrillers and turned Anthony Hopkins' Hannibal Lecter into the kind of celebrity serial killer you might consider inviting over for stimulating dinner conversation - as long as liver could be kept off the menu. (And maybe fava beans.)

Demme's latest directorial outing, Rachel Getting Married (penned by Sidney Lumet's daughter Jenny), is - stylistically - a bastardized blend of dramatic narrative and (faux) documentary, employing an untethered floating point-of-view to chronicle a couple of days in the life of a psychologically traumatized young woman named Kym (Anne Hathaway, trying hard not to look cute and perky - and mostly succeeding). Kym emerges from her latest stint in rehab just in time to prepare for her sister's nuptials; her father Paul (Bill Irwin, turning in the film's most finely shaded performance) picks Kym up and shuttles her back to the family's comfortable Connecticut home.

Along the way Kym has her Dad stop at a minute mart, where she ambles in for smokes and a soda. "Hey, didn't I see you on Cops?", remarks the cashier, providing us with an early clue as to Kym's shadowy backstory, while lending uncertainty as to whether these proceedings will turn tragic or comic. (It turns out to be a bit of both.)

Arriving at the family's semi-rural digs, Kym is left to her own devices while her father and stepmom Carol (Anna Deavere Smith - a comforting, conciliatory presence throughout) disappear into the kitchen, immersed in frantic preparations for what we perceive to be a pretty large-scale production, as weddings go. Kym is confronted with a couple wearing African tribal garb and a guy on the staircase playing some sort of balalaika - while some Asians characters elbow in through the front door. Kym seems to have wandered into an encampment of well-dressed international refugees.

She finally locates her sister (Rosemarie DeWitt, as Rachel) in an upstairs bedroom where she's having her dress fitted. After sisterly hugs and a somewhat chilly greeting from Rachel's friend Emma (Anisa George), Kym lounges in the midst of the action, smoking like a stack and monopolizing the conversation - a pattern that will be repeated as events progress.

Straightaway we discover that Kym's past misdeeds have involved some sort of motorized vehicle irregularities, as her Dad forbids her (in diplomatic fashion) from driving the family station wagon to her court-mandated NarcAnon meeting - so she rides a bicycle there instead.

Demme's presentation of the addict clatch is heavy on endless, maudlin testimonials to the point that we begin craving the sort of release from reality that each of the participants must have felt when they started using. While Kym remains silent, she does catch the eye of a handsome fellow named Kieran (Mather Zickel), who explains to the group that he's visiting from Hawaii.

After the meeting, Kym bikes back home, where she soon finds herself being fitted for a sari. That's right - the bridesmaids' dresses are saris. (Multi-ethnic enough for you yet? Stay tuned.) She also discovers that Kieran, the drug-addicted visitor from Hawaii, is part of the groom's party. In fact, he's the best man.

Speaking of the groom, Sidney (Tunde Adebimpe) must have some connection to the world music scene, because it seems to be from his side of the aisle that the gaggle of musicians hanging out at the family compound originate. With the drama playing itself out around them, these devoted strummers and pluckers (whose music - composed for the film by Donald Harrison Jr. and Zafer Tawil - comes across like a blend of Turtle String Quartet and Béla Fleck) strum and pluck their hearts out, endlessly practicing; the violinist among them even provides impromptu accompaniment for a dishwasher-loading contest between Sidney and father-of-the-bride Paul.

Overshadowing everything from the rehearsal dinner (will the toasts never end?) to the bridal party hair appointments (can Rachel pull off cornrows?) is the toxic family backstory, which - like the elephant in the room - periodically unleashes a spirited trumpeting. This usually arrives courtesy of Kym, who is not afraid to talk about it all - or so it seems.

There's been a lot of buzz about Ms. Hathaway's performance, and it is, indeed, a solid one. But the standouts here are Mr. Irwin's portrayal of the father struggling to pull his troubled daughters together as the echoes of their shared tragedy reverberate through the tale; and Ms. DeWitt's Rachel, who alternately coddles and castigates Kym as if she were attempting to inform the behavior of a much younger sibling. Lurking in the background (often literally) is the presence of the girls' estranged mother Abby (Debra Winger), bewildered and so deep in denial that the awful truth - even when it's explained to her - remains unrecognized. (Think Mary Tyler Moore in Ordinary People.)

Demme's premise (and that of screenwriter Lumet) seems to be that opening oneself up to new experience and group scrutiny may be the most effective path to psychic healing. And he might just have something there.