Rachel Getting Married

To say that Rachel Getting Married is Jonathan Demme's best film in years isn't really saying much at all. What's worth something, is the assertion that it truly is one of the most vibrant and intoxicatingly alive films of the year thus far. Following a phenomenal stretch in the 90s, which included Silence of the Lambs and Philadelphia, the acclaimed Demme fell victim to poor career choices, stumbling most notably on a recent back-to-back pair of asinine remakes: a modernization of the classic John Frankenheimer political thriller The Manchurian Candidate and The Truth About Charlie, a reworking of the well-liked Charade with Mark Wahlberg in the Cary Grant role. Seriously. Following the downward spiral, Demme rebounded with several acclaimed documentary works (Neil Young: Heart of Gold, Jimmy Carter A Man from the Plains). It's no surprise then that Rachel Getting Married bears a closer resemblance to documentary style than Demme's classical Hollywood past. The photography is all grain and shaky cam with gently lit, natural frames. At times the film feels more like culled footage from a particularly moving wedding video than a narrative work, which is as much a compliment to the performers' subtle acting and Jenny Lumet's emotionally honest script as it is to Demme's very unglamorious shooting style.

The central premise of the movie is simple enough: Rachel (a radiant Rosemarie DeWitt) is getting married and has invited her delinquent post-rehab little sister Kym (Anne Hathaway) for the wedding. Her reassimilation into the family and ongoing personal journey toward recovery make for the film's core drama. Meanwhile, in the background, the wedding plans continually roll along. Often the most dramatic moments are the most simply structured. A toasting scene that goes one by one around a long dinner table to nearly every major character (and then some) should be dull but each actor brings such believable charm and complexity that every speech is a miniature revelation. Not the least of which is Hathaway's bravura turn at the mike in which she puts the audience at disease, then charms with dark wit, and ultimately sandbags with saving grace gravitas. It's the first truly dynamite scene for her in a film full of many. The most explosive of these occurs late in the film when a torn up Kym confronts her detached mother (Debra Winger, superb in a small role) about her dark past and a physical altercation results. Thankfully, the film has as many simple charms as it does dramatic overtures. Watching Kym and Rachel's father, Paul (a beautifully human Bill Irwin) fuss over his daughters with loving devotion is a reward in its own right. So too is the budding romance between Kym and wedding attendee Kieran (a Clooney-ish charming Mather Zickel). That Kym can find time to both brood and flirt in a single film put her ahead of many other one-note indie heroines capable of only one function per film. The final wedding scene, boiled down to mostly a montage of what looked to be quite a party, also has a simple, unaffected resonance. It is as exciting as any third act spectacle but substitutes dire melodrama or epic misadventure for a simple, satisfying human celebration.

The film is not perfect, but I don't think it aspires to be. In the spaces between the tearful moments of joy and sorrow there exist several meandering downbeats. But when the goal is for art to mimic life without censorship, how can their never be moments you wish to take back? The film unfurls delicately and in the end there isn't really any completeness of closure. A feeling of improvement is undeniable but certain issues still hang in the air, dampening DeWitt's beautifully quiet send off. Rachel is sure to have an upcoming baby shower, and then maybe an anniversary party. These same elements will gather again and continue to gather, colliding in both comic and heartrending ways on and on throughout these characters' lives.

Grade: A-