Opposing Forces

By Susan Thea Posnock

Something strange has been happening to me lately.
Mysterious forces are at work and I'm gripped with the
kind of anxiety I haven't felt on a regular basis
since college.

This feeling has been prompted by recent screenings of
Half Nelson and Little Children.
Rather than my typical "light and breezy" column, it
seems only a properly researched term paper will
suffice in dissecting these films.

That's not a knock on either--in fact in many ways
it's praise. Returning to the student mindset raises
questions and can be a thrilling exercise. At the same
time, heady themes can either make a story soar, or
drop like a lead balloon.

Half Nelson, (definitely not to be confused
with 1985's short-lived Joe Pesci series of the same
name), the independent feature from director/writer
Ryan Fleck and producer/co-writer Anna Boden is
arguably the more ambitious of the two because of its
underlying philosophy. It's an unconventional
classroom drama in which the "hero" is a white,
crack-addicted teacher named Dan Dunne (Ryan Gosling),
who uses dialectics to teach history to his mostly
black students. The theory, from German philosopher
Georg Hegel, says the clashing of opposing forces
leads to change. The film demonstrates this simply
through an arm wrestling match between Dan and one of
his eighth-graders. He tells the kids how when one
force overtakes the other (in this case he overcomes
the strength of his student) it leads to a turning
point. On a larger scale, dialectics can be applied to
movements like Civil Rights or wars.

The movie is full of these potentially life-altering
struggles: within Dan, in his relationships to others
and to the world. The production notes say the film's
title--a position in professional wrestling that is
difficult to escape--is a metaphor for where the
protagonist is in life.

It's possible this would all come crashing down if not
for the outstanding performances. Gosling, with the
soul-deep eyes of someone both lost and searching, has
rightfully gotten a lot of praise for a difficult
role. Dan's behavior is at times abhorrent and he is
in many ways the physical embodiment of a theory. But
rather than being flattened into a textbook, Gosling
makes him breathe. It is a performance that absolutely
deserves attention come Oscar time.

The same can be said of the remarkable Shareeka Epps
as Drey, a student who becomes aware of her teacher's
duality when she discovers his addiction. She is in
many ways an opposing force to Dan, even as they
develop an improbable friendship. She struggles with
her own internal and external conflicts and has
several imperfect adult guides: her hard-working
mother, Dan and Frank, a drug dealer. As the latter,
Anthony Mackie is also noteworthy. Despite his
influence leading to prison or addiction, he is oddly
likeable, wielding a benevolent power over the others.
There are no easy answers in a universe where the
would-be villain is in some ways a better role model
than the teacher.

The contradictions that fuel Half Nelson are
also present in Little Children. But unlike
the cinema verite style of Half Nelson, the
film offers a kind of pseudo-reality where characters
are presented with their flaws intact. I say "pseudo"
because director Todd Field (In the Bedroom)
puts up a barrier through the use of narration that
makes it a struggle to empathize with anyone on
screen. The sporadic commentary can be effective and
funny-but also has the feel of a snooty literary
professor who thinks he's smarter than the story he's
riffing on.

The actors mostly overcome this tone. While the cast
is good across the board, Kate Winslet as dissatisfied
mom Sarah Pierce, Jackie Earle Haley as sex offender
Ron McGorvey and Phyllis Somerville as his mom, May
McGorvey, stand out.

They navigate through a suburban "satirical melodrama"
(Field's description) based on the novel by Tom
Perrotta and co-written for the screen by Field and
Perrotta. Thanks to a bet, Sarah ends up kissing
stay-at-home dad Brad Adamson (played by the
delectable, but purposely vacant Patrick Wilson). The
quick contact sparks a combustible chemistry and one
thing leads to another.

Running parallel (and sometimes intersecting) is the
story of just-released-from-prison Ron, a pariah in
the community who endures harsh taunting from ex-cop
Larry Hedges (Noah Emmerich).

Sarah and Brad have less-developed spouses, played by
Jennifer Connelly and Gregg Edelman, respectively. But
the bulk of the story revolves around Winslet, Haley
and Wilson.

Haley has a moment (with Jane Adams) that is one of
the most emotionally disturbing I've ever seen in a
feature film. It added to the trauma to recall Adams'
oft-humiliated character from Happiness, a
film I consider the worst date movie of all time. (I
speak from experience, as I saw it on a "one and done"
date.)

Haley adds his name to the dubious list of actors who
excel at portraying sexual deviants. He's so good it
isn't a cliché to say he's scary. I don't think he
makes the character "sympathetic," but you can
recognize the humanity. The motherly love provided by
Somerville helps a great deal and the two actors are
brilliant together.

Winslet's role is also challenging. Sarah's
contradictions and motivations are hard to pinpoint
and it makes her actions easy to second guess. For
instance, she's supposed to be smart (just shy of her
doctoral degree), but makes lousy personal choices. I
know that frustrated the friend who went to see
Little Children with me. However, I think
this kind of behavior is true to life. It doesn't
matter how smart (or dumb) you are, we all make bad
decisions.

My biggest issue with the film is where it ends up,
especially as it relates to Brad. No spoilers here,
though I will say the conclusion brought me back to
dialectics.

Maybe Hegel got it right. What's needed to jolt Brad,
Sarah (and everyone else in the film and in life) is a
good shot from an opposing force.

*Originally ran on OscarWatch (now Awards Daily)