Rachel Getting Married

Ah, weddings. If you're like me, and think that weddings are to be endured rather than enjoyed, then you'll probably have the same kind of mixed experience I did at Rachel Getting Married--sort of like watching a car wreck--fascinating in a way but emotionally debilitating.

Set in the upper-class suburbs of Connecticut, the titular bride is being married in the kind of service that is an NPR listener's dream: the bride is white, the groom is black, the ceremony is a quasi-Hindu one (the cake is the in the shape of Ganesh) and the music is the kind heard at the extreme left of the radio dial. Much has made by some critics that absolutely no mention of the bridal couple's race is even hinted at in the film (which says more about the critic that the filmmakers, I think) but I imagine this was intended by writer Jenny Lumet and director Jonathan Demme. These characters are the kind of people who are so color-blind that anyone saying anything would be given a dirty look.

Into this left-wing idyll comes Kym (Anne Hathaway), Rachel's younger sister. She is getting sprung from rehab for the occasion, and has been a problem for the family for years. Her father, Bill Irwin, always defends her, much to Rachel's annoyance, while their mother, Debra Winger, divorced from the father and remarried, keeps her aloof distance. Kym is a whirlwind of fidgety behavior and psychodrama, and when she arrives at the family home, which is being prepared for the nuptials, she is like a thundercloud at a picnic.

Over the course of three days there will be many arguments, the kind of family dust-ups where regretful things are said, plus faces getting slapped and an auto accident (not to mention Kym hooking up with the best man). Rachel, a paragon of normalcy, both loves and resents her sister, and alternates between wanting to protect her and then wanting her gone. Over all of this is the spectre of a dead child and the guilt that is associated with him.

As long as the film stays on the interdynamics of the family, I liked this film (enjoyed is perhaps not the right word, as the writer and actors do very well in making the viewer feel completely uncomfortable at spying on these private moments). The whole thing is filmed with a hand-held camera, though, which I don't think I will ever get used to, and whips around a little too much. But there are times, like a real wedding, when I wanted to bug out and get some fresh air. There's a very long scene at the rehearsal dinner when various guests make toasts. Of course, when Kym grabs the mic the room falls into a cringing silence, and she accommodates their unease by making inappropriate jokes about her life as an addict. But did we need to see all the other toasts, which go on and on and on? Then the wedding itself could have been trimmed by about ten minutes. Having the groom sing a Neil Young song during the vows is one thing, but the footage of the dancing is like being forced to watch the home movies of people you don't know.

The acting is terrific. I'm sure Hathaway will get a Best Actress nomination. She is radiantly beautiful, but in a haunted way, recalling the lines of Bob Dylan's "Visions of Johanna"--"the ghosts of electricity howl in the bones of her face." She does not invite the audience to sympathize with her--she may be nine months sober, but she's no pleasure to be around, and as warm and cuddly as razor wire. Rosemarie DeWitt, as Rachel, is also very good, a woman put in a difficult position. It's her wedding day, but whenever her sister is around her needs are put on the back-burner. She also clearly looks like someone who could be Debra Winger's daughter.

As for Winger, who makes a comeback in this film after several years of being out of the acting business, it's a small, non-showy role. She only has one "Oscar-clip" scene, in which Hathaway confronts her about a family tragedy. There's some Oscar buzz about her, but frankly if that does happen I would think it's only because of who she is--the role just isn't meaty enough.