Lars and the Real Girl
Watching this film I felt an internal struggle between two aspects of me: the rational and the emotional, and at various times one was defeating the other. Rationally, this film just doesn't add up, but emotionally it is very satisfying. Whether you will like it or not depends on what side you come down on. I can't argue with either one.
Lars is a pathologically shy young man who lives with his brother and sister-in-law. Well, he lives at the same address, but holes up in a room off the garage. I'm guessing it takes place in Minnesota, given his Swedish name and the Lake Wobegon-like sense of community that exists in the small town he lives in. Lars doesn't have a girlfriend--he can barely talk to people, and his sister-in-law has to beg him to join them for breakfast. He does have an office job, though, and is functional. One day a co-worker shows him a web site detailing the "Real Doll," a highly sophisticated love doll that is anatomically correct. Six weeks later a crate arrives at Lars' domicile, and he is introducing the contents as his new girlfriend, Bianca.
Needless to say, his brother is horrified and craftily gets him to see a very compassionate psychologist, played by Patricia Clarkson. She urges the brother and sister-in-law to humor him, and soon the whole town is, as well, going so far as to give Bianca a make-over, hire her at a clothing boutique (as a mannequin, of course) and elect her to the school board. Eventually Lars becomes so enmeshed in the delusion that he comes out the other side, and begins to pick up on the feelers he's been getting from a co-worker. Happy ending.
If you think of this film as a fairy-tale, it's very winning. That a whole town would not only tolerate a man wheeling around a synthetic women and treat her as if she were real is kind of heart-warming; it is also ludicrously unrealistic. And what was gnawing at me the whole film was whether this made sense psychologically. We don't see why Lars goes from a fully functional shut-in to a man who has completely lost his marbles and talks to a doll (and apparently hears responses). Would a psychologist really suggest this sort of treatment? The script (by an Oscar-nominated Nancy Oliver) walks a high-wire, answering some of our doubts. When Lars' brother point-blank tells him that Bianca is made of plastic, Lars ignores the comment. Also, because of religious issues, Lars and Bianca don't, ahem, sleep together, I'm sure to reduce the ickiness factor. But it's all a little too pat. Aside from an old codger who protests to begin with, there is no conflict from the townspeople.
Ryan Gosling is Lars, and it's a shrewd performance. He basically plays Lars like a whipped puppy dog. There are some seeds planted that suggest the origins of his dysfunction, and at one point he is reading Don Quixote, one of the great delusional figures from literature. Gosling doesn't play him as a Quixote, though. He plays him as if he can barely stand being on camera.
The film that this most recalls is Harvey, in which James Stewart played Elwood P. Dowd, a gentle souse who happened to believe he had a friend who was a six-foot tall rabbit. In that film, his family is scandalized by it, only coming around at the very end. In fifty-something years our society has become much more tolerant of aberrant behavior, I guess.
As a codicil to this review, I should mention that I was aware of the Real Doll years ago. Being in the porn industry, its existence didn't phase me much, other than the price tag--they run about five grand apiece. Over the years I've seen articles about them that are either giggling in tone or are humorlessly feminist reactions, chalking them up to the depths of depravity that men are prone to. But the fact is there are men who because of either debilitating illness, disfigurement, or the kind of antisocial behavior Lars exhibits, have no other recourse (if they don't want to go to prostitutes). I've led a fairly sexually adventurous life, but the urge to copulate with a mannequin, no matter how life like, is not something I'm interested in. No matter how realistic the skin is, they can't make the eyes look completely life like, and throw in the fact that they are at room temperature makes this perilously close to necrophilia. (The Real Doll web site does recommend heating up your doll with a warm bath to alleviate this condition, FYI).
Lars is a pathologically shy young man who lives with his brother and sister-in-law. Well, he lives at the same address, but holes up in a room off the garage. I'm guessing it takes place in Minnesota, given his Swedish name and the Lake Wobegon-like sense of community that exists in the small town he lives in. Lars doesn't have a girlfriend--he can barely talk to people, and his sister-in-law has to beg him to join them for breakfast. He does have an office job, though, and is functional. One day a co-worker shows him a web site detailing the "Real Doll," a highly sophisticated love doll that is anatomically correct. Six weeks later a crate arrives at Lars' domicile, and he is introducing the contents as his new girlfriend, Bianca.
Needless to say, his brother is horrified and craftily gets him to see a very compassionate psychologist, played by Patricia Clarkson. She urges the brother and sister-in-law to humor him, and soon the whole town is, as well, going so far as to give Bianca a make-over, hire her at a clothing boutique (as a mannequin, of course) and elect her to the school board. Eventually Lars becomes so enmeshed in the delusion that he comes out the other side, and begins to pick up on the feelers he's been getting from a co-worker. Happy ending.
If you think of this film as a fairy-tale, it's very winning. That a whole town would not only tolerate a man wheeling around a synthetic women and treat her as if she were real is kind of heart-warming; it is also ludicrously unrealistic. And what was gnawing at me the whole film was whether this made sense psychologically. We don't see why Lars goes from a fully functional shut-in to a man who has completely lost his marbles and talks to a doll (and apparently hears responses). Would a psychologist really suggest this sort of treatment? The script (by an Oscar-nominated Nancy Oliver) walks a high-wire, answering some of our doubts. When Lars' brother point-blank tells him that Bianca is made of plastic, Lars ignores the comment. Also, because of religious issues, Lars and Bianca don't, ahem, sleep together, I'm sure to reduce the ickiness factor. But it's all a little too pat. Aside from an old codger who protests to begin with, there is no conflict from the townspeople.
Ryan Gosling is Lars, and it's a shrewd performance. He basically plays Lars like a whipped puppy dog. There are some seeds planted that suggest the origins of his dysfunction, and at one point he is reading Don Quixote, one of the great delusional figures from literature. Gosling doesn't play him as a Quixote, though. He plays him as if he can barely stand being on camera.
The film that this most recalls is Harvey, in which James Stewart played Elwood P. Dowd, a gentle souse who happened to believe he had a friend who was a six-foot tall rabbit. In that film, his family is scandalized by it, only coming around at the very end. In fifty-something years our society has become much more tolerant of aberrant behavior, I guess.
As a codicil to this review, I should mention that I was aware of the Real Doll years ago. Being in the porn industry, its existence didn't phase me much, other than the price tag--they run about five grand apiece. Over the years I've seen articles about them that are either giggling in tone or are humorlessly feminist reactions, chalking them up to the depths of depravity that men are prone to. But the fact is there are men who because of either debilitating illness, disfigurement, or the kind of antisocial behavior Lars exhibits, have no other recourse (if they don't want to go to prostitutes). I've led a fairly sexually adventurous life, but the urge to copulate with a mannequin, no matter how life like, is not something I'm interested in. No matter how realistic the skin is, they can't make the eyes look completely life like, and throw in the fact that they are at room temperature makes this perilously close to necrophilia. (The Real Doll web site does recommend heating up your doll with a warm bath to alleviate this condition, FYI).
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