Reviewed by Hunter M. Daniels

Watching The Savages gave me a feeling I haven’t had in a very long time. I didn’t feel old enough to be seeing what was on screen. I haven’t felt that since I was 11 and snuck a peak at A Clockwork Orange on IFC. I felt like I was suddenly being forced to deal with things I was much too young to even begin to comprehend, this visceral impact is followed by a moving portrait of what it is to die.

The Savages is one of those tiny Oscar-bait films filled with actors you know playing parts outside of their mainstream personas. However, this film is far more subversive than most. The film, written and directed by Slums of Beverly Hills helmer, Tamara Jenkins, features Philip Seymour Hoffman, (in one of his hat trick of great turns from last fall) and Laura Linney as dysfunctional siblings dealing with the impending death of their abusive father, (Philip Bosco), with whom they have long since lost contact.

The Savages is a comedy, in a manner of speaking. But it’s not a comedy for the faint of heart. Unlike most so-called, dark comedies, there is little levity to be found here.  No zaniness. Not a pratfall or crude sexual innuendo in sight. This is not a film that one watches to unwind, it is not a film that is easy or comfortable to sit through, and it’s not really fun. But oddly, it does manage to affirm life and communicates a great understanding of the human condition.  

There are moments in The Savages that ring so true that one almost feels like it is a documentary on screen. Were it not for certain literary devices used in the film, it could almost pass as a docu-drama. The humor of the film is that of the absurdity of human existence when faced with the unfathomable abyss of death. This may sound pretentious and dull, but on screen it is really quite touching. Nearly every moment of the main plot dealing with the father’s death carries real emotional resonance.

Unfortunately, the personal lives of the two protagonists are less believable. While Hoffman and Linney portray very well written characters, they end up feeling slightly contrived because their lives are grafted onto extended literary allusions. We’ve seen enough films about misunderstood but brilliant artists trying to find their way. It’s not interesting or inventive anymore.

Yes, I love Bertolt Brecht too. I have fond memories of laughing with my friends after watching one of his short one act’s that completely baffled and annoyed my parents. “Wow, that background noise was really aggravating,” complained my Da Vinci Code loving mother. In fact, I think a more Brechtian approach could improve many modern films. But simply having Hoffman say the name Brecht a lot does not make the film deep. The concepts of Brecht have an opportunity to come to a head when the film appears to have reached its end with the line, “is that it?” Unfortunately, it keeps going for another 20 minutes. Hoffman could have been an Orange farmer and it wouldn’t have changed the movie greatly. 

There seems to be a new trend in indie films over the last 5 or so years, and I see it as a backlash to Tarantino’s influence. Where Tarantino’s characters constantly discuss the “tits” on some 1970’s B-movie starlet, modern independent films protagonists discuss Brecht, Bukowski, Tolstoy and of course, Proust. But name-dropping these authors does not make a movie classy or meaningful.

The recent and very underwhelming, Smart People, is another example of this. In that film characters begin scenes by saying things like “So much depends on a red wheelbarrow” while holding a large tome of the collected works of William Carlos Williams. Does it mean anything for the character to be saying this? Not as near as I can tell. Is it pretentious and pointless, I think so.  This new movement is sure to turn some people onto some great literature, but to me it seems too much like screenwriters are simply picking from a list of freshmen suggested readings. Simply having read the collected works of Allen Ginsberg does not make one intelligent. 

And then there is the ending. Instead of going for the intensely downbeat closing that would seem organic for this story, The Savages chooses to force a happy ending centric third act where everyone learns a valuable lesson and really begins to live. And to me, that’s the most depressing thing about the movie.

THE DVD

The Savages has a mediocre DVD package with cover art that is far inferior to the Ghost World inspired one sheet.

There is an above average making-of featurette, a smattering of odd deleted scenes, mostly of elderly women dancing, and a photo collection from Jenkins. None make the package worth buying if one does not want to give the film several viewings, which, if you have the emotional stamina, it is well worth.

CONCLUSION

There is 2/3rs of a great movie in The Savages and at points it brushes the truly profound. Unfortunately it is weighed down by too much of a focus on misunderstood artists and an ending that is too saccharine for what came before. Recommended for those who enjoy Todd Solondz. For all others, recommended, with reservations.