Fortunately, The Good Girl swept away the pissiness Bitch-woman caused. Brought to you by the Chuck and Buck team -- director Miguel Arteta and writer Mike White (who has a small role as an over-earnest, Jesus-freak security guard) -- the movie delves into the life of Justine, a discontented store clerk (Jennifer Aniston) in a small Texas town, unhappy with her life in an unfocused way. Her husband Phil, an amiable lummox (John C. Reilly), is clueless; he obliviously sits around, stoned, watching TV with his buddy and partner Bubba (Tim Blake Nelson, underlaying his dim doofus character with a creepy menace). Craving change and contact with someone who understands her restless discontent, Justine drifts into an affair with a younger co-worker, the dark, enigmatic Holden (Jake Gyllenhaal), but discovers that what she thinks will liberate her instead creates new traps.
Somewhat like Chuck and Buck, the movie ably blends comedy and pain. Everyone in the film is lonely except the ones too dumb to realize it. You empathize with the despair and loss of all the main characters, although their emotional turmoil puts them all on a collision course; parts of the movie are positively heart-wrenching. But nothing's too sad for very long without a leavening touch of humor, from minor, throwaway gags -- Justine and Holden meet for their first romantic rendezvous in front of a Chuck E. Cheese -- to broader stuff -- one of the other clerks at the store (a hilarious Zooey Deschanel) takes out her loathing of the mind-numbing job by sprinkling profanities throughout her patter to the customers, and the store manager's send-off for Holden is darkly, riotously nutty.
The turning point of the movie comes, in a knowing cliché, at a literal crossroads, and it's a testament to the movie that I wasn't really sure which path Justine would choose. In retrospect, I can see how some people (who don't share my emotional background, beliefs, and distaste for stifling small towns and stupefying retail jobs) would interpret the ending as predictably, typically happy Hollywood, but to me it was unexpected because it was real, not Hollywood and not happy. Actually, I found it profoundly depressing.
Gyllenhaal is this summer's cradle-robbee of choice for older, married women; some of his and Aniston's scenes echo almost exactly the scenes he and Catherine Keener share in Lovely and Amazing. It's easy to see why he appeals to dissatisfied, older women (speaking as one myself), with his mature, melancholy sensitivity yet a teenager's innocent energy and giddy capability for instant infatuation. As Holden (modeling himself after Holden Caufield, of course), the combination is even more awkward and volatile, like a melding of his characters in Lovely and Amazing and Donnie Darko. Gyllenhaal is terrific, dark and engaging, heartbreaking and funny.
I wasn't as irritated by Aniston as I usually am, but she didn't quite win me over, either. She mostly gets Justine's blue-collar ennui and yearning to escape the constraints of her marriage and small-town life, but her annoying mannerisms break through from time to time. The movie's biggest flaw is having Aniston discuss her malaise in soporific and overly serious voice-overs, using big words and complex thoughts that are completely out of character, a little like Nicolas Cage's narration in Raising Arizona except not played for laughs.
Clever, witty, and poignant, The Good Girl is a
wonderful
little film; I recommend it.
Although this is already a long review, I don't know when else I'll be able to shoehorn this in, so I'll use the tenuous segue of cute men and Chuck E. Cheese to regale you with the story of the one that got away (well, the latest of many ones...). Traveling to Kennebunkport for my aunt's birthday party, my cousin, his girlfriend, and I landed in Manchester, NH, and took a shuttle to the off-site Enterprise car rental office (the most off off-site place I’ve ever seen – we must have gone through two towns to get there). It was in a strip mall next to Chuck E. Cheese (see the connection?). Inside the rental office was a guy who I initially thought was homeless: raggedy, dirty t-shirt, camo pants, flip-flops, and filthy feet. The rental agent explained his saga: he'd driven up from North Carolina that day, towing a boat, expecting to meet his boss here so the two of them could go on to Maine together. The boss never showed, and for the past 5 or 6 hours he'd been trying vainly to reach someone at the contact numbers his boss had given him. All things considered, he was remarkably serene and pleasant; I suppose after a while he'd accepted that he couldn't get those 6 hours back, he'd done what was expected of him, and he should direct his energy instead to his next move (an attitude I would use for inspiration over the next few days).
We chatted a bit, exchanged hometowns -- his was Beaufort, NC; when I told him mine, he exclaimed, "I always thought DC would be an exciting town." (Here I started to make a "you're kidding, right?" face.) He went on, "All those museums and memorials, the Library of Congress…" Much like Lisa Simpson, I practically swooned at that. Nobody says the Library of Congress! He wants to go there? He knows it exists? He's so deep!
Eventually he decided to go on up to Maine and leave his boss to his own devices. He went out to his truck (the boat on the trailer was a lovely little wooden boat, perfectly weathered). A few seconds later, an orange tabby kitten darted under the trailer. I was about to go warn him, fearing he'd unknowingly run over it, when he came over and crouched by the trailer, patiently trying to coax the kitten out. The kitten bolted, and he slowly followed it, trying not to spook it. The rental agent remarked, "He just rescued that cat today." Awwwww. Finally he came back to his truck, the kitten cradled gently in his arms, and drove away.
Instantly I regretted not even asking his name or offering mine
(plus
my phone number – "If you ever make it to DC, I can pull some strings
and
get you the insider's tour of the Library of Congress…"). I mean,
he's cute and patient, he has a work ethic, he has a boat (or access to
one, anyway), he likes driving long distances -- for god's sake, he
considers
the Library of Congress to be a tourist attraction! Like that
isn't
enough, he rescues stray kittens, even when he's far from home
and
on a tight schedule. Dreamy! Why can't I meet a man like
that?
Okay, I did meet a man like that... why can't I meet one who'll
ask for my number?
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