{I've been meaning to write a post about this movie from some time . . . I just have so many thoughts on the subject, it's an overwhelming task to get them all organized.}
Ah, where to even begin???
Well, aesthetically speaking, I loved An Education. The cinematography was - in my humble, uneducated opinion - absolutely beautiful. And the acting . . . Besides the fact that I love Carey Mulligan and will forever sing her praises? {Plus, she is just so adorable} In all seriousness, I found overall the performances to be superb, even in the minor roles. Especially Carey Mulligan's portrayal of Jenny and her gradual, conscious loss of innocence is one that stays with you, long after the film is over.
{As an aside, has anyone else noticed that Peter Sarsgaard always plays the same character? The seemingly good guy who ends up being a fraud or the bad guy . . . or the 3rd incarnation of a black voodoo doctor . . . }
The soundtrack is also very good - a collection of original scores (Jenny's Theme is a standout in my mind), period-appropriate songs - including some French artists (Jenny is a fan of French singers . . . and really anything French and 'sophisticated'), and some more modern, indie type songs - all of which work perfectly with the mood of the film. {I'm not even going to begin on the costumes . . . Like the dress seen above . . . to die for}
Once you step away from the aesthetics and get into the substance of the film, that's when it gets tricky. On the one hand, it's thought-provokingand haunting and for the most part tastefully done. On the other hand, it deals with some pretty intense stuff. Which brings one to the never ending dilemma of anyone philosophically or artistically minded: Where is the line? When have you crossed into the dangerous realm of "Art for the sake of art"? Anyway, more on that later.
So, the actual substance of the film . . . The basic plot, if you're not familiar with the film, is the story of an English school girl's relationship with an older [con]man. The story is actually based on an article by British journalist Lynn Barber in which she relates her affair with conman Simon Prewalski as a young woman. {Spoilers are ahead. I am going into some issues that necessarily give away the end of the film, so if you were planning on seeing it and you don't want to know what happens, then you should stop reading here.} In the movie, 16 year old Jenny is pursued by 30-something David Goldman. He is charming and sympathetic, and she is starved for intellectual stimulation and understanding. He preys on her bright mind and appreciation for literature and the fine arts, taking her to concerts, art auctions, and even to Paris. It's not long before the viewer and Jenny both discover what David really is - a conman. He and his friends steal antiques and works of art and re-sell them. Once Jenny knows, you can almost see the struggle in her head, rationalizing, explaining away the obvious illegality of David's 'profession'. She pushes her boundaries back further and further, ultimately sleeping with him. David eventually proposes to Jenny, and she accepts. Shortly after, she discovers that not only is David already married, but he has had affairs with younger women before. Devastated, Jenny must pick up the pieces of her life and face the bridges she burned in order to be with David.
I know, right now you all are thinking "Why would anyone watch this movie???" And, come to think of it, why would I watch it, much less write about it? Well, bear with me . . . I'm getting there!
The most striking element of this story is its portrayal of Jenny's loss of innocence and the failure of the adults in her life, particularly her parents.
The loss of innocence in this film is sobering, even haunting, because it is conscious. It is not the story of a poor innocent girl who is completely oblivious to what is happening. Jenny may have been deceived in David's marital status, but in most other respects, she is fully aware of the truth. Her disillusionment is not a fall, sudden and unexpected, but is more like walking beside a line in the sand. She walks along the line, and every time she encounters something that crosses the line, she rationalizes - redrawing the line, convincing herself that she had simply drawn the line in the wrong place to begin with. Finally, she realizes how far she has strayed from the original line. Her discovery of David's deception serves as a wake-up call, revealing to her how very misguided and young she truly was. Even more disturbing is what even allows this to take place - the adults in Jenny's life, especially her parents. All her life, Jenny's parents have been preparing her for Oxford University. Everything she does, every extracurricular activity, every class is viewed through the lens of "how does this affect your chances for Oxford?" But the reason for this narrow purpose is poorly explained at best and at worst, mercenary and superficial. It is implied that Jenny must work very hard to get a good education, to get a good job, so that she can enjoy the good life. If you really think about what is implied by the guidance she receives from her parents and from the head school mistress, it is no wonder that she was able to redraw her line so many times. Underneath all the morals she is given is some kind of idea of profit. "Don't do this because it might spoil your chances for this", etc. Really, it's no wonder Jenny sees (or convinces herself to see) no problem with her relationship with David, or with the fact that she gives up her chances at Oxford to be with him. If all that she was working towards was 'the good life', then why not take a short cut? Why not marry a man that can give her all that, right now? Disturbingly absent is any advice to Jenny about the inappropriate nature of her relationship with David. Sure, her parents were greatly deceived in David's character and intentions, but still . . . would you let your young, pretty daughter go on trips, especially overnight, with an older man you barely knew? The only voice of reason in Jenny's life is one of her teachers, who cautions her repeatedly. But at this point it is too late, and she is not a large enough part of Jenny's life to have the right influence.
In the end, we see a very different Jenny than the bright, promising, naive schoolgirl we meet in the opening scenes. She has far more worldly wisdom than before, but we have the distinct feeling that this is not a good thing, not at all. As she says to her teacher, "I feel old. But not very wise."
The Jenny that narrates the closing scene is jaded and disenchanted. She gets into Oxford by the skin of her teeth. And she has other relationships, but even her comments on these are telling. The last lines of the film are somewhat wistful. Is she trying to regain what she has lost? "One of the boys I dated, and they were boys, suggested that we go to Paris and I said I'd always wanted to see Paris . . . As if I'd never been."
This film is one of those that is really hard to recommend. It is very well done, haunting, thought-provoking. But at the same time, it deals with delicate subject matter. To put it bluntly, it is an affair and while the sexual side of it is not the main focus, it is present. Which brings me back to the question of art for the sake of art. When is the line crossed? Honestly, I don't know. I know when a movie is completely, without question, wholesome, and I can recognize a film that is clearly trash and without redeeming value. But this kind of movie baffles me. It reminds me of something my art professor told our class this semester. To paraphrase, he said: "As Christian artists, you can depict sin. You can even depict sin without incorporating redemption. However, we cannot ever glorify sin."
Does this film depict sin? Yes. Does it depict sin without redemption? Yes. That is why the ending feels so hopeless. Does it glorify sin? I don't think so. She is often miserable and on edge, even during the affair.
And yet, I want to learn from Jenny's example. How am I redrawing my line? I never want to come to the point where I rationalize myself in territory that I never would have walked into directly. Which is where the role of the Holy Spirit and daily time in God's word come into play.
So . . . to a young adult not easily influenced and not opposed to the occasional use of the fast-forward button, this film, approached cautiously, may encourage some thought about morality aside from God [or the lack thereof], how innocence is lost, and real tragedy. Which is more than I can say for most of the mindless entertainment to be found in the theater today . . .
I'm convinced that music must have some scientific, explainable effect on the emotions.
Why else would I choke up every time Idina Menzel reaches the climax of "Defying Gravity"?
There are certain pieces of music - classical, Broadway, anything genre really (except rap . . . I have yet to moved by a rap song) - that bring some unexplainable moisture to my eyes, every single time I hear them.
Music pulls at the emotions in ways that no other form of expression can. It sweeps us along with it, and we become caught up in the swells of emotion that are captured within. Is it the emotions of the composer? The performer? Or does it simply bring to the surface emotions which we had no idea that we were feeling?
Sometimes I think of music as an river, or ocean, or some other body of water. {only, not a stagnant one, otherwise my analogy ceases to apply} You get caught in the current, swept along - even sometimes against your will - and must go where ever it wants to take you.
Listen to some of these. {well performed, please} Only, please don't tell me if they don't affect you . . . I'd rather be happily oblivious to the extent of my 'nerdiness' . . .
"Fable" and "The Light in the Piazza" - both from the musical "The Light in the Piazza
Piu Jesu
See, I'm Smiling - from 'The Last Five Years'
Chopin's Ballade in G minor
Several of Bach's Preludes for cello
Jacqueline du'Pre's performance of the Elgar Cello concerto
{etc, etc, etc}
Especially listen to this - beauty in the form of operatic voices: I dare you not to be moved.
{disclaimer} It is long, but persevere to the end! {or at least the halfway point}
And in case you don't know who Placido Domingo is . . . you should.
~ For heights and depths no words can reach, music is the soul's own speech.
