Glassland movie review & film summary (2016)

Is John an enabler? In some ways, yes. But he also genuinely wants his mom to stop drinking, and it's questionable whether a colder approach with Jean would yield a better result. Here's the thing about addicts who are in a relationship with a sober person, be it husband-wife, friend-friend, or parent-child: no matter what the sober person does, it's always the wrong thing, or not enough. He's too nice or too mean, too forgiving or too unforgiving, too indifferent or too involved, too this or too that. It's an impossible predicament. The sober person feels a deep sense of responsibility coupled with frustration over not being able to do anything that will unquestionably, tangibly help. It's ultimately up to the addict to decide to change. Jean's not there yet. Jack worries that she'll never get there, that she'll just keep drinking and drinking and then she'll be gone, and he'll blame himself, even though her life wasn't his to save, and he did the best he could.

The two lead performances could not be better. Collette makes a powerful impression in a traditionally big, even explosive role; she gets to booze and dance, fall apart, scream, cry, yammer, make an ass of herself, dissolve in self-pity. But none of this quite feels like actor-y showboating because Collette invests Jean's behavior with a slightly detached quality, as if she's half-outside of her consciousness, observing herself as she acts out, and up. This is a common characteristic of drunks, who can feel simultaneously uninhibited and painfully self-conscious, socially awkward and theatrically exuberant. Reynor has the subtler role. It's largely reactive. Because John is an articulate but not always forthcoming person, there are many scenes where we feel absolutely certain that we know what he's feeling but don't really know what he's thinking, or what he'll do next.

This is a hard, spare, tough movie, at times nearly jarring in its lack of adornment. Barrett is mostly content to pick a camera angle and watch his characters behave. Once he's made his point, he cuts away, sometimes in the middle of a song, an argument, a rant, or a look. There's a quietly violent quality to the direction; we keep having moments taken away from us and forced to reorient ourselves and look at something else, something new, even when we're not ready. The net effect is not one of intoxication, as is the case in films like "Leaving Las Vegas" and "Under the Volcano," but enforced sobriety. The film is told not through the eyes of a drinker, but somebody who cannot stop a loved one from drinking. Its rhythm and tone have a morning-after feel: the movie is banging on pots and pans and telling you to get out of bed and have some coffee. Now.

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