Cinefile

When Paul (Mark Ruffalo) cracks a naughty smile while listening to the story of how Jules (Julianne Moore) and Nic (Annette Bening) first met (hint: sexual innuendos swim in that story pond), a mutual sense of playful giddiness permeates through the audience sitting in the auditorium. Although it pains the kids (Mia Wasikowska and Josh Hutcherson) to have to listen to the origins of their lesbian parents’ romance again, for the people watching the movie, it’s a harmless exchange of information. However, it isn’t until the second half of Lisa Cholodenko’s The Kids Are All Right, that the audience begins to realize Paul’s original motives for that smile; when Jules feels sidetracked by the compulsively busy Nic she finds solitude in the attention Paul gives her. And then they have sex.

This is the tipping point for both the film’s plot and the nature of the screen character that is Paul. In the film Nic complains that Paul is too “self-satisfied” and maybe he is. As the confirmed bachelor and sperm donor to the couple’s children, Paul literally flies by the seed of his pants. Whether he’s screwing the sexy hostess at his restaurant or living out some deep-rooted sexual fantasy in banging Jules relentlessly on multiple occasions, Paul is a recurring screen character in the cinema of 2010. He’s the embodiment of having everything we—perhaps—lustfully want. There are no boundaries for a screen character like Paul, and yet, because of the medium of the cinema, he’s altogether bearable to watch. Why is that?

Consider for a moment another name star: Michael Douglas. Earlier this year, Douglas turned in some of his finest work in Solitary Man, which chronicled an eventful series of days for former car magnate Ben Kalmen. As Kalmen, Douglas was smooth, well dressed and articulate. Even when the film pitted Kalmen with professional embarrassment, financial failure and eviction from his own home, there was Douglas’ charisma winning the confidence of the audience. We liked this guy. And then Kalmen did the unforgivable: he slept with the college-aged daughter of his already younger girlfriend (Mary-Louise Parker). I’ll admit that there were actual groans and a few whispers of “Oh no…” during the screening I attended. Yes, it’s morally bad for an old geezer to take advantage of an eighteen year old (especially after scaring off her original date for the evening).

But to me, what was more disturbing than Kalmen’s immoral sexual actions was this notion of the cinema representing the society it is spawned from. To explain: movies happen in waves, and more often in “mini”-waves. Quickly after 9/11 we saw a flux of uber patriotic titles—Behind Enemy Lines, We Were Soldiers, Windtalkers—that made the themes of that time clear: obliterate the foreign bad guys. Just as recently as 2007, when the nation was on the eve of entering the economic dark ages, we were presented with two particular titles that thrived on the shoulders of its key screen characters conquering their terrain—and its souls—for one thing: money. In No Country For Old Men, Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) killed anyone and everyone he came across while in pursuit of a bag of money. In There Will Be Blood, Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) either bought out or bludgeoned with a bowling pin any competitor that stood in the way of building his empire of oil. Greed sifted through the air of that time and the cinema spoke to our deepest sentiments then.

So, coming back to this year’s cinema, if we were to presume that 2010 was the year that highlights our cultural immoral opportunism, where is the real-life foundation for such a belief based? Is it in the highly publicized trial of Rod Blagojevich supposedly trying to sell Obama’s senate seat for his own gain? Does it come from hordes of viewers reveling in the cast of Jersey Shore’s outrageous salaries per episode? Are we really interested in the Mel Gibson recorded rants because of what he’s saying or is it our fascination with the idea that his ex-girlfriend could financially prosper from such a gesture? And on and on.

What is happening is that the movies are hinting that we as a society are each looking out for number one—no matter the cost. Why these titles are going down the route of sex is of curious reason.  Maybe it’s because sex is such a primal behavior. If we can screw anyone we want and not adhere to any societal or moral guidelines, then maybe everything else is really up for grabs. For me, the most provocative case comes in Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank: After Connor (Michael Fassbender) drunkenly has sex with the fifteen year old daughter (Katie Jarvis) of his alcoholic girlfriend, it is revealed that Connor is in fact a happily married man who lives on the nicer side of town. The audience wonders: Why would Connor risk his marriage and family? Why would he exploit the sexual curiosities of a vulnerable and lost teen?

Answer: Because he could.