Movies: In Praise of the “Little Story”

I am aware that most adults go to the movies or watch them at home in order to be entertained, to briefly escape, perhaps, from their stressful or humdrum lives. I spent more than a few years as a member of this group and certainly sympathize with the desire to enjoy a couple of hours of vicarious pleasure. Over the past couple of decades, however, I have found greater pleasure in watching films that move me spiritually or intellectually, as well as emotionally, and in trying to determine why they move me.

I am most impressed with films that portray a protagonist who is a rather ordinary person facing what is for him or for her an extraordinary challenge, although this challenge is not necessarily so far out of the ordinary in the eyes of the viewer. I call the plot of such films a “little story.” Four of the films I have so far reviewed for Life as a Human in fact fit into this category.

Needless to say, the little story does not rely on expensive cinematic toys, the celebrity of a famous person, grave physical danger to the protagonist or his family, slapstick humour, or starry-eyed romanticism to keep the attention of the viewer. Nor does it exist in a larger-than-life context, like the Second World War, the Civil Rights Movement, a major sporting event, or an important legal case. If death occurs it is never a violent death, nor is it the vehicle that launches a mystery. If there is sex, it is an inseparable part of the story; it is never gratuitous.

The trick for the little-story filmmaker—the screenwriter/director—then is to make that story compelling enough to hold the interest of the viewer from beginning to end. How is this feat accomplished?

First we need a character that we can sympathize with.

One such character is Francesca Johnson, played by Meryl Streep, in The Bridges of Madison County (1995). Francesca obviously had a romantic notion of life in America when she met and married the handsome Yankee soldier in her native Italy at the end of the war. The reality turned out to be quite different: she ended up as a hardworking farm wife and mother out in the boondocks of Iowa instead of the cultural Mecca of New York. While she is content as the matron of a loving family, we can see that she is not truly happy. So when the craggy photographer from National Geographic lands on her doorstep while the family is away, we can feel for her in the longing for adventure and romance that he kindles in her.

In Far From Heaven (2002), Cathy Whitaker (Julianne Moore) is the quintessential middle-class 1950s TV wife—loving, faithful, stay-at-home. But she is married to a husband who turns out to be gay and who can no longer resist the natural call to love, and live with, another man. We can sympathize with Cathy in her utter helplessness in the face of a situation that is frighteningly alien to her. We can also sympathize with her impulse to seek solace in the company of her black gardener.

Once we are invested in the main character, we are drawn into the crisis or challenge that he or she is experiencing in the film. Of course, the conflict must be believable, but the sympathy we feel for the character precludes the need for pyrotechnics or sleight of hand to move the story forward. In the case of Francesca in Bridges, we are on the edge of our seats throughout the movie, dying to see whether she will abandon her family and her rural life for the promise of the romance that has been calling from a corner of her heart all these years. All the while we feel her agony on the rack of indecision.

Naturally, the artistic success of movies like Far From Heaven and The Bridges of Madison County is derived to a significant degree from the fine acting of the principals. Thus a little story does not necessarily equate to a little budget. But it is the ability of the screenwriter and the director to conceive and create a compelling story out of ordinary clay that not only makes films like these eminently watchable but also causes them to retain a special place in the conscious memory of the viewer.

I have found also that little-story films often generate enjoyable conversations: What would you have done—and why—if you were Francesca? If you were a wife in the fifties, how would you have handled the discovery that your husband was gay? How would you have felt if you were the husband? Such conversations tend to lead the participants more deeply into the film to search out the details that provide clues to the decisions made by the protagonist. These forays lead in turn to a greater appreciation of the film and often to the desire to see it again—and again.

Photo Credits

The Bridges Of Madison County Poster @ Wikipedia

Far From Heaven Poster @ Wikipedia

Recent Ross Lonergan Articles:

• The Film-School Student Who Never Graduates: A Profile of Ang Lee, Part Four
• The Film-School Student Who Never Graduates: A Profile of Ang Lee, Part Three
• The Film-School Student Who Never Graduates: A Profile of Ang Lee, Part Two
• The Film-School Student Who Never Graduates: A Profile of Ang Lee, Part One
• Bullying, Fear, And The Full Moon (Part Four)