As Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" ends with the suicide of a prodigy, this movie opens with the death of the star high school swimmer legend, Matt, who shoots himself in the head with a revolver after in the opening scene. But the death of Matt Travis serves as a key to unlock the door of another prodigy, his brother, Tim who never in his life seriously bothered with the question, "What am I going to do?"
When he finds his brother dead, his head broken like a dropped watermelon, the Travis family starts vomiting out its secrets one by one. The film focuses on Tim. He is a victim of bullying, domestic abuse, family alienation, heartbreak, issues of sexuality and friendship.
Tim reveals his wounds by physical bruises, but these are not the only injuries to his person, as we slowly come to realize, as the script painfully unveils the origins and outcome of Tim scars. Everyone who loves him hurts him. Hirsch plays out the character quite well, revealing frame after frame in the visual expression of his body, a host of conflicting emotions inside the soul of a kid whom no one seems to listen to or know very well, unknowing and unaware of his depth of soul and prodigious talent.
Two siblings sharing a doobie, curled up on a red, spinnable playground saucer, Tim asks Penny, "What am I going to do with the rest of my life?" The scene is framed in a familiar, recurring image of the film: the comfortable playground where Tim obviously feels at home, filmed from a bird's eye view, because with every character Tim feels comfortable to share a part of himself, and we view these intimate moments he shares in the red, spinnable playground saucer, complete with childish graffiti carved in pencil, from above. After advising him curtly to pass the joint, Penny tells him, "Tim, well, the secret to the success of life is to find something you love. And you have to do that for the rest of your life And you better hope to hell that you're good at it because if you're not then you'll probably fail." This simple line of advice from Penny serves as the movie's central theme, the responsibility of talent and the possibility of failure. Why does one person have a talent he cannot stand, like Matt, who hated the attention his swimming fame brought, but no one notices Tim's talent no one because no one bothers to ask him? Not even us. The film makes us aware that we ourselves do not know Tim as well as we thought we did when we first meet this handsome, sad, guy; in our intimate understanding of Tim, as it progresses, we are reminded that not everyone is as they seem to be. This is the other side of the film, the failure of those who should parents, friends, teachers whoever to notice and see the gifts of the people they claim to love. Not even his mother Sandy, played by Sigourney Weaver, sees Tim's gift, despite her love for her son. Weaver does a deft job of a middle-aged woman grappling with her own inner demons as she haphazardly tries to play the roles of domesticity and support. When Tim is found to be bullied at school, she storms the boy's trailer, threatening his life, "You can tease, torture, punch, drive drunk with me, I can forgive you. Hell I can understand it, I'm a good Christian, you know, I can forgive and forget, but you mess with my kid and may God himself descend from heaven to protect you because as long as I live and I will outlive you all I will wake up and go to sleep at night just dreaming of ways to make your petty insignificant lives into hell on earth." After flicking a paper cup into the mother's face, she looks around the trailer, and looking at them both, the kid and his stunned mother, comments, "nice trailer" and leaves as quickly as she came. Weaver scores in her ability to match gusto with visceral wit that is acid and witty. And Tim's father, played by Jeff Daniels, is blind to who his son is, treating him like a stranger, not telling his family that he took time off from the office, spending his days in the city park, listless, a carved out soul, and sleeping in Matt's bed, tucked in with his high school letter jacket. Jeff Daniels does a superb job of making us believe that he can be both a bastard and lovable because, we grow to see that even an inept father can show his love for his son. In an emotional scene, Tim confronts his father. Just when you think his dad is going to hit him, he grabs for him to embrace him. Not letting him go, he tells Tim, "I am your father and you're are my son and I'm here okay but you've gotta talk to me. I don't know how to do this by myself". It is here at this moment in the film that a father tells his son, you have to tell me what's going on inside of you, you have to tell me who you are; I want to know who you are. It is in this scene that the film reaches a cathartic moment, the visual movement from Tim, angry and alone, to his father embracing him as he breaks downs and weeps, revealing the emotions hidden beneath his shell. Tim experiences this moment of cleansing with his dad as a catharsis, especially when you consider the mistreatment, manipulation, disregard, violence and betrayal he has been dealt in the long year the film encompasses. I recommend this film.
When he finds his brother dead, his head broken like a dropped watermelon, the Travis family starts vomiting out its secrets one by one. The film focuses on Tim. He is a victim of bullying, domestic abuse, family alienation, heartbreak, issues of sexuality and friendship.
Tim reveals his wounds by physical bruises, but these are not the only injuries to his person, as we slowly come to realize, as the script painfully unveils the origins and outcome of Tim scars. Everyone who loves him hurts him. Hirsch plays out the character quite well, revealing frame after frame in the visual expression of his body, a host of conflicting emotions inside the soul of a kid whom no one seems to listen to or know very well, unknowing and unaware of his depth of soul and prodigious talent.
Two siblings sharing a doobie, curled up on a red, spinnable playground saucer, Tim asks Penny, "What am I going to do with the rest of my life?" The scene is framed in a familiar, recurring image of the film: the comfortable playground where Tim obviously feels at home, filmed from a bird's eye view, because with every character Tim feels comfortable to share a part of himself, and we view these intimate moments he shares in the red, spinnable playground saucer, complete with childish graffiti carved in pencil, from above. After advising him curtly to pass the joint, Penny tells him, "Tim, well, the secret to the success of life is to find something you love. And you have to do that for the rest of your life And you better hope to hell that you're good at it because if you're not then you'll probably fail." This simple line of advice from Penny serves as the movie's central theme, the responsibility of talent and the possibility of failure. Why does one person have a talent he cannot stand, like Matt, who hated the attention his swimming fame brought, but no one notices Tim's talent no one because no one bothers to ask him? Not even us. The film makes us aware that we ourselves do not know Tim as well as we thought we did when we first meet this handsome, sad, guy; in our intimate understanding of Tim, as it progresses, we are reminded that not everyone is as they seem to be. This is the other side of the film, the failure of those who should parents, friends, teachers whoever to notice and see the gifts of the people they claim to love. Not even his mother Sandy, played by Sigourney Weaver, sees Tim's gift, despite her love for her son. Weaver does a deft job of a middle-aged woman grappling with her own inner demons as she haphazardly tries to play the roles of domesticity and support. When Tim is found to be bullied at school, she storms the boy's trailer, threatening his life, "You can tease, torture, punch, drive drunk with me, I can forgive you. Hell I can understand it, I'm a good Christian, you know, I can forgive and forget, but you mess with my kid and may God himself descend from heaven to protect you because as long as I live and I will outlive you all I will wake up and go to sleep at night just dreaming of ways to make your petty insignificant lives into hell on earth." After flicking a paper cup into the mother's face, she looks around the trailer, and looking at them both, the kid and his stunned mother, comments, "nice trailer" and leaves as quickly as she came. Weaver scores in her ability to match gusto with visceral wit that is acid and witty. And Tim's father, played by Jeff Daniels, is blind to who his son is, treating him like a stranger, not telling his family that he took time off from the office, spending his days in the city park, listless, a carved out soul, and sleeping in Matt's bed, tucked in with his high school letter jacket. Jeff Daniels does a superb job of making us believe that he can be both a bastard and lovable because, we grow to see that even an inept father can show his love for his son. In an emotional scene, Tim confronts his father. Just when you think his dad is going to hit him, he grabs for him to embrace him. Not letting him go, he tells Tim, "I am your father and you're are my son and I'm here okay but you've gotta talk to me. I don't know how to do this by myself". It is here at this moment in the film that a father tells his son, you have to tell me what's going on inside of you, you have to tell me who you are; I want to know who you are. It is in this scene that the film reaches a cathartic moment, the visual movement from Tim, angry and alone, to his father embracing him as he breaks downs and weeps, revealing the emotions hidden beneath his shell. Tim experiences this moment of cleansing with his dad as a catharsis, especially when you consider the mistreatment, manipulation, disregard, violence and betrayal he has been dealt in the long year the film encompasses. I recommend this film.