Review: C.R.A.Z.Y.
I blame J. D. Salinger for the glut of coming-of-age films over the years. Yeah, you heard me, I'm pointing my finger at the guy who wrote The Catcher in the Rye. Thanks to everybody's favourite reclusive writer, the filmgoing public has been inundated with overbearing voiceover narrations ("It was the summer I'd never forget...") and montages of past childhoods replete with cheesy period-specific pop songs.
Thankfully director Jean-Marc Vallée oils the well-worn hinges of the genre and creates a truly remarkable coming-of-age film that explores the richness of the family dynamic and the trauma of exploring one's sexual identity. Spanning over twenty years, C.R.A.Z.Y. focuses on Zac, the second-youngest of five boys in the Beaulieu maison, who may or may not possess the gift of healing family members with a simple thought. Zac not only has to contend with his unruly siblings (a jock, a womanizing junkie, a nerd and the often-silent youngest boy), but the expectations of his working-class father and the possibility that he might favour boys over girls.
Vallée has assembled a fantastic cast, but the stand-outs are Marc-André Grondin as Zac and Michael Côté as the father. Grondin's mesmerizing performance is the anchor of the film. As Zac, he's able to illustrate a sense of isolation from the rest of the family with a simple facial expression. The pain and ecstasy of exploring his homosexuality in secret is fully realized through Grondin's performance. Zac always appears exhausted, the stress of his repressed sexuality and familial obligations taking its toll. I like it when a character doesn't explain away how they feel, but opts to show the viewer their personal problems through the face and body language. Zac has a lot of swagger and coolness on the outside, but there's an identifiable fear and self-loathing found just below the surface.
Lesser coming-of-age films have depicted one-dimensional loutish fathers, but Côté creates a complicated character, a father who clings to old-fashioned values yet comes to appreciate his sons in different ways, often showing his lighter side by lip-synching French songs at Christmas dinners and at weddings. His tumultuous relationship with Zac and his difficulties with his son's sexual orientation are honest and very realistic. He's not just a homophobic dad, but a man who struggles with his core values and the love for his son. If this were an American film, I swear the father would be clad in only a muscle shirt with a bottle of Bud in his hand, berating his son as only a meathead can do.
Music plays an important role in the film, but unlike many coming-of-age films, the songs in C.R.A.Z.Y. are not just famous songs for nostalgia's sake. Tracks by Bowie, the Stones, Pink Floyd, Jefferson Airplane and the Cure not only date Zac's isolation through the decades, but help blanket him with comfort as he sits and smokes in his room, temporarily escaping his personal and familial problems. His music selections are darkly romantic, especially Bowie, a figure Zac identifies with in terms of sexual identity. His father 's love for Patsy Cline is not only important in acknowledging the generation gap, but his obsession with the song "Crazy" reveals much about his inner feelings for his family (and gives the film its title).
I've got to credit Vallée in depicting a family's decades-long struggle through the Quiet Revolution without the political baggage (not even a picture of René Lévesque's chain-smoking mug!). Instead, Vallée uses The Catholic church as a commentary on the family unit. The Church, a bastion of traditional values, becomes less involved or influential in the Beaulieu family as time progresses. Fantasy daydreams and praying to a crucified Jesus do little to help Zac with his sexual confusion and the Church is largely ignored by the Beaulieu boys as they struggle with adulthood.
Jean-Marc Vallée creates a dazzling, breath-taking account of one family's struggles with traditional values and the way the world is changing around them. C.R.A.Z.Y. is a richly-textured comedy drama that is sympathetic to young men struggling with their identities and with the parents who no longer know how to communicate with them.
Thankfully director Jean-Marc Vallée oils the well-worn hinges of the genre and creates a truly remarkable coming-of-age film that explores the richness of the family dynamic and the trauma of exploring one's sexual identity. Spanning over twenty years, C.R.A.Z.Y. focuses on Zac, the second-youngest of five boys in the Beaulieu maison, who may or may not possess the gift of healing family members with a simple thought. Zac not only has to contend with his unruly siblings (a jock, a womanizing junkie, a nerd and the often-silent youngest boy), but the expectations of his working-class father and the possibility that he might favour boys over girls.
Vallée has assembled a fantastic cast, but the stand-outs are Marc-André Grondin as Zac and Michael Côté as the father. Grondin's mesmerizing performance is the anchor of the film. As Zac, he's able to illustrate a sense of isolation from the rest of the family with a simple facial expression. The pain and ecstasy of exploring his homosexuality in secret is fully realized through Grondin's performance. Zac always appears exhausted, the stress of his repressed sexuality and familial obligations taking its toll. I like it when a character doesn't explain away how they feel, but opts to show the viewer their personal problems through the face and body language. Zac has a lot of swagger and coolness on the outside, but there's an identifiable fear and self-loathing found just below the surface.
Lesser coming-of-age films have depicted one-dimensional loutish fathers, but Côté creates a complicated character, a father who clings to old-fashioned values yet comes to appreciate his sons in different ways, often showing his lighter side by lip-synching French songs at Christmas dinners and at weddings. His tumultuous relationship with Zac and his difficulties with his son's sexual orientation are honest and very realistic. He's not just a homophobic dad, but a man who struggles with his core values and the love for his son. If this were an American film, I swear the father would be clad in only a muscle shirt with a bottle of Bud in his hand, berating his son as only a meathead can do.
Music plays an important role in the film, but unlike many coming-of-age films, the songs in C.R.A.Z.Y. are not just famous songs for nostalgia's sake. Tracks by Bowie, the Stones, Pink Floyd, Jefferson Airplane and the Cure not only date Zac's isolation through the decades, but help blanket him with comfort as he sits and smokes in his room, temporarily escaping his personal and familial problems. His music selections are darkly romantic, especially Bowie, a figure Zac identifies with in terms of sexual identity. His father 's love for Patsy Cline is not only important in acknowledging the generation gap, but his obsession with the song "Crazy" reveals much about his inner feelings for his family (and gives the film its title).
I've got to credit Vallée in depicting a family's decades-long struggle through the Quiet Revolution without the political baggage (not even a picture of René Lévesque's chain-smoking mug!). Instead, Vallée uses The Catholic church as a commentary on the family unit. The Church, a bastion of traditional values, becomes less involved or influential in the Beaulieu family as time progresses. Fantasy daydreams and praying to a crucified Jesus do little to help Zac with his sexual confusion and the Church is largely ignored by the Beaulieu boys as they struggle with adulthood.
Jean-Marc Vallée creates a dazzling, breath-taking account of one family's struggles with traditional values and the way the world is changing around them. C.R.A.Z.Y. is a richly-textured comedy drama that is sympathetic to young men struggling with their identities and with the parents who no longer know how to communicate with them.
posted by J at
1:28 p.m.
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