Film ReviewsPaint it Black: quid pro quoJul 7, 2017 Anchorage Press
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Amber Tamblyn is no stranger to the creative process. She’s an actress and a poet, she’s worked in television and film, she’s a published author, and now, with Paint It Black, Tamblyn adds “director” to her name.
Tamblyn’s debut film is based on the novel by the same title, which was written by Janet Fitch. Fitch also wrote “White Oleander”, the coming of age drama that was made into a film in 2002. Paint It Black, the film, is synergetic with the novel, and its direction is informed by the written work. “Paint It Black” started out at as a gothic short story described by the author as, “A secret, windowless room at the heart of a haunted mansion.” From there, she built it out until a doorway to the sun emerged. The description of the novel is fitting for Tamblyn’s treatment of grief on the screen, because grief is the process of emotional and painful descent into darkness and a painstaking and slow emergence into light and hope.
Paint It Black takes place with the punk scene of Los Angeles in the 1980s, well before cell phones, hipsters and gentrification. The film is nicely textured with the 80s palette even if at first the references are hard to pinpoint, because unlike the novel, the film doesn’t delve deeply into the music and alternative art scene, and the events that marked the decade. The print story prefaces the work with the Rolling Stones’, “I see a red door and I want it painted black. No colours anymore, I want them to turn black.”, the spirit of which the screen version doesn’t really leverage. However, this does not detract from the plot and Tamblyn’s cinematic interpretation of the novel. There are a number of references to the work of Ingmar Bergman throughout that are subtle enough to add depth but don’t impede Tamblyn’s own vision.
Tamblyn opens the film by letting the viewers know exactly where the point of despair is found; it’s found in the death of Michael (Rhys Wakefield). From there, the plot unfolds into a quid pro quo between the two bereft women in his life — his girlfriend, Josie, played by Alia Shawkat, and Meredith, his mother, played by Janet McTeer.
The two women couldn’t be more different. Josie models for art classes, drives a beater and lives in the one-room apartment she shared with Michael in Echo Park. Meredith is a world famous pianist, a diva fully equipped with worldly goods and a giant ego (think of the mother in Bergman’s Autumn Sonata). Their interaction is twisted, to say the least, as they exchange physical, emotional, and psychological torment and blame. Initially the quid pro quo is about pain, then it’s about acceptance, and the final exchange is about control. Alfred Molina has a minor role as Cal, Michael’s father, but as small as his role is, it does serve a purpose, which is to set up the family dynamics that precedes the plot without weighing on Josie and Michael’s story.
In her interpretation of the novel, Tamblyn does something interesting and unconventional, but it works—she hides Michael, his story, and his reasons for committing suicide. Tamblyn sets up the enigmatic Michael from the get go in the scene where he and Josie meet. She’s fully exposed sitting for an art class and all that the viewers see of Michael is a partial shot of his face, but it’s enough to establish his interest in Josie and its reciprocation. It takes a few scenes for the director to give viewers a good look at Michael. From that point on, what viewers know of Michael is mainly through the interaction between the women. In their quest for one another’s insights into Michael, the story touches on a number of issues related to class, privilege, sex, intimacy, and even traces of incest. When Michael’s countenance is on full display, it is in a state of transformation between the three characters; just like in Bergman’s Persona, it is the exchange between characters that defines them.
Paint it Black
Not rated
Runtime: 2:16
Monday, 7/10 at 8:00 PM
Tamblyn’s debut film is based on the novel by the same title, which was written by Janet Fitch. Fitch also wrote “White Oleander”, the coming of age drama that was made into a film in 2002. Paint It Black, the film, is synergetic with the novel, and its direction is informed by the written work. “Paint It Black” started out at as a gothic short story described by the author as, “A secret, windowless room at the heart of a haunted mansion.” From there, she built it out until a doorway to the sun emerged. The description of the novel is fitting for Tamblyn’s treatment of grief on the screen, because grief is the process of emotional and painful descent into darkness and a painstaking and slow emergence into light and hope.
Paint It Black takes place with the punk scene of Los Angeles in the 1980s, well before cell phones, hipsters and gentrification. The film is nicely textured with the 80s palette even if at first the references are hard to pinpoint, because unlike the novel, the film doesn’t delve deeply into the music and alternative art scene, and the events that marked the decade. The print story prefaces the work with the Rolling Stones’, “I see a red door and I want it painted black. No colours anymore, I want them to turn black.”, the spirit of which the screen version doesn’t really leverage. However, this does not detract from the plot and Tamblyn’s cinematic interpretation of the novel. There are a number of references to the work of Ingmar Bergman throughout that are subtle enough to add depth but don’t impede Tamblyn’s own vision.
Tamblyn opens the film by letting the viewers know exactly where the point of despair is found; it’s found in the death of Michael (Rhys Wakefield). From there, the plot unfolds into a quid pro quo between the two bereft women in his life — his girlfriend, Josie, played by Alia Shawkat, and Meredith, his mother, played by Janet McTeer.
The two women couldn’t be more different. Josie models for art classes, drives a beater and lives in the one-room apartment she shared with Michael in Echo Park. Meredith is a world famous pianist, a diva fully equipped with worldly goods and a giant ego (think of the mother in Bergman’s Autumn Sonata). Their interaction is twisted, to say the least, as they exchange physical, emotional, and psychological torment and blame. Initially the quid pro quo is about pain, then it’s about acceptance, and the final exchange is about control. Alfred Molina has a minor role as Cal, Michael’s father, but as small as his role is, it does serve a purpose, which is to set up the family dynamics that precedes the plot without weighing on Josie and Michael’s story.
In her interpretation of the novel, Tamblyn does something interesting and unconventional, but it works—she hides Michael, his story, and his reasons for committing suicide. Tamblyn sets up the enigmatic Michael from the get go in the scene where he and Josie meet. She’s fully exposed sitting for an art class and all that the viewers see of Michael is a partial shot of his face, but it’s enough to establish his interest in Josie and its reciprocation. It takes a few scenes for the director to give viewers a good look at Michael. From that point on, what viewers know of Michael is mainly through the interaction between the women. In their quest for one another’s insights into Michael, the story touches on a number of issues related to class, privilege, sex, intimacy, and even traces of incest. When Michael’s countenance is on full display, it is in a state of transformation between the three characters; just like in Bergman’s Persona, it is the exchange between characters that defines them.
Paint it Black
Not rated
Runtime: 2:16
Monday, 7/10 at 8:00 PM