My Name Is Joe: A very skillful film, no matter at all that it is plain-looking in its cinematography and plainly transparent in its goals. For people who watch films especially to look into and live for a moment through a character, this is very much a character film and, to me, seems less of a film about "working-class life" than as is usually portrayed, although there are the gritty shots that you want if that is what you are looking for (e.g., Sabine’s shaking junky leg with heroin blood craters in them – as Lou Reed would sing, “It was very nice”). Peter Mullan is a phenomenon as always. The range and authenticity of emotion that he brings to the screen exceeds the highest standard. It is not merely a delivery of feeling; it does not feel like a performance. It actually feels as though he is providing elements of the human experience that cinema has rarely had the opportunity to see. On the other hand, it feels at times as though Peter Mullan is too dominant an actor, moving too quickly and decisively through scenes – perhaps this is the powerhouse director in Peter Mullan rather than the actor that we are seeing. This is not a criticism but an observation of Peter Mullan’s gifts, still my way of making the point that he is not an ordinarily gifted actor, which is exciting for an American cinema lover to experience even if Mullan is a household name for Brits. As per the trend I am seeing in myself these days, I have scathing feelings towards the woman in the film, Sarah, because her empathy and willingness to soothe (Peter Mullan’s character) Joe is made of weak and unconvincing stuff, if not of completely dubious origin. And when Sarah proves to be uncompromising about what she won’t tolerate, she condemns him on the wrong grounds, only exhibiting the fear that comes from her blindingly sheltered nature (which is not eradicated by whatever harrowing experiences she thinks she has been through), as opposed to an assessment of the fragile combination of strengths and failings of the man before her. I would allow Sarah to be uncompromising so long as she wasn't the worst version of herself while doing so, but in applying a defunct set of standards to Joe, she has misunderstood his battle and is not prepared to help him see it through. Joe is caught between worlds, of course, and his abandonment at the end of the film raises the question of whether any of us can be caught between worlds and somehow learn to make one more important than the other when no one seems capable of truly assisting. Love cannot persist when you only see the worst in the person, nor is it located in the opposite extreme of having the sort of unthinking faith born of rock-bottom self-esteem that perpetuates your own constant abuse at the hands of the person you love – there will have to be a departure from the two pathologies in order for a woman to negotiate an appropriate response within herself to a deeply flawed but not fundamentally abusive man. In the end, I think individuals, not the universe, are very much at fault for abandonments committed in the style that specifically disgraces the optimism that love is founded upon, that twists itself into the unbearable irony of two people who can’t ever be free. It is Peter Mullan’s Joe that is the soul of the film.
My Name Is Joe: A very skillful film, no matter at all that it is plain-looking in its cinematography and plainly transparent in its goals. For people who watch films especially to look into and live for a moment through a character, this is very much a character film and, to me, seems less of a film about "working-class life" than as is usually portrayed, although there are the gritty shots that you want if that is what you are looking for (e.g., Sabine’s shaking junky leg with heroin blood craters in them – as Lou Reed would sing, “It was very nice”[1]). Peter Mullan is a phenomenon as always. The range and authenticity of emotion that he brings to the screen exceeds the highest standard. It is not merely a delivery of feeling; it does not feel like a performance. It actually feels as though he is providing elements of the human experience that cinema has rarely had the opportunity to see. On the other hand, it feels at times as though Peter Mullan is too dominant an actor, moving too quickly and decisively through scenes – perhaps this is the powerhouse director in Peter Mullan rather than the actor that we are seeing. This is not a criticism but an observation of Peter Mullan’s gifts, still my way of making the point that he is not an ordinarily gifted actor, which is exciting for an American cinema lover to experience even if Mullan is a household name for Brits. As per the trend I am seeing in myself these days, I have scathing feelings towards the woman in the film, Sarah, because her empathy and willingness to soothe (Peter Mullan’s character) Joe is made of weak and unconvincing stuff, if not of completely dubious origin. And when Sarah proves to be uncompromising about what she won’t tolerate, she condemns him on the wrong grounds, only exhibiting the fear that comes from her blindingly sheltered nature (which is not eradicated by whatever harrowing experiences she thinks she has been through), as opposed to an assessment of the fragile combination of strengths and failings of the man before her. I would allow Sarah to be uncompromising so long as she wasn't the worst version of herself while doing so, but in applying a defunct set of standards to Joe, she has misunderstood his battle and is not prepared to help him see it through. Joe is caught between worlds, of course, and his abandonment at the end of the film raises the question of whether any of us can be caught between worlds and somehow learn to make one more important than the other when no one seems capable of truly assisting. Love cannot persist when you only see the worst in the person, nor is it located in the opposite extreme of having the sort of unthinking faith born of rock-bottom self-esteem that perpetuates your own constant abuse at the hands of the person you love – there will have to be a departure from the two pathologies in order for a woman to negotiate an appropriate response within herself to a deeply flawed but not fundamentally abusive man. In the end, I think individuals, not the universe, are very much at fault for abandonments committed in the style that specifically disgraces the optimism that love is founded upon, that twists itself into the unbearable irony of two people who can’t ever be free. It is Peter Mullan’s Joe that is the soul of the film.
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