In such cult favorites as "Life is Sweet" and "Naked," his
vision always has been anchored by a proudly unrelenting
grimness. But nowadays a filmmaker this brave needs to be
trumpeted as having a "vision" at all, whether you like his
work or not.
I'm not making the common, and very wrongheaded, complaint
that if it's not fun, it isn't entertainment, but Leigh has
always had a penchant for subject matter (and even humor) so
harsh that an audience can start to feel like it's serving
some form of penance while watching his movies.
Of course, before you receive your penance, you have to
undertake the daunting task of reflecting on your own sins,
and that's where Leigh's work resonates most uncomfortably.
On the surface, "Secrets and Lies," a 1996 Best Picture
winner at the Cannes Film Festival, is no different.
Characters with heart
But Leigh has imbued this story with a saving grace that has
been sadly lacking in his previous films -- an unexpected
tenderness.
The movie stars Brenda Blethyn in a truly outstanding
performance as Cynthia, an exceedingly gentle-hearted,
middle-aged woman who has led a lonely existence, pretty much
devoid of love and, judging from her relationship with her
hateful daughter, even devoid of basic human acknowledgment.
Brenda lives in a broken-down flat that stands as the
antithesis of the house lived in by her estranged brother
Maurice (Timothy Spall).
Maurice is a prosperous portrait photographer with an
expensive wife who manages to claw through the mundane
failures of his life and take beautiful, insightful
photographs of his often uncooperative subjects.
Enter Hortense (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), a self-possessed,
articulate young optometrist who, after the death of her
remaining adoptive parent, does research and discovers her
biological mother. The 15-year-old girl who gave up Hortense
as a baby, sight unseen, was, and is, Cynthia. Cynthia is
white. Hortense is black.
Quiet brother anchors film
If this were your average movie, that would be the story
right there, but Leigh is concerned with much more than the
obvious gulf between a poor white woman and her successful
black offspring.
"Secrets and Lies" deals with perceptions -- how we perceive
the people we fear, and how we perceive the people we love.
Most important, though, it's about how wrong and accusatory
these perceptions often are.
The film is absolutely brimming with great performances.
I've already mentioned Blethyn, who also was honored at
Cannes, but Jean-Baptiste, and Spall, in particular, are
tremendous.
Spall has the build of a potbellied National Football League
coach (this is a British film, but I have no idea what
European soccer coaches look like). Anyone else would almost
certainly view him as a rather broad character actor, but
Leigh gives him an opportunity to shine as Cynthia's brother.
Cynthia is the main character, but the heart of the film
beats in Maurice, who is the only member of this fiercely
judgmental family open enough to speak of the secrets and
lies that allow them to keep their true selves safely hidden
from their supposed "loved ones."
It's difficult to imagine what kinds of roles will come
available to such an unglamorous type as Spall, but it will
be a terrible crime if no other directors take notice of this
performance.
No cliche-ridden dialogue here
Leigh also writes his own screenplays, and he has a slyly
comic way with dialogue that sometimes leavens the harsh
proceedings.
Phrases like "you look like a slapped horse" and "I wouldn't
know him if he stood up in my soup" are not written by hacks
(an apt description for most of the extremely well-paid
Hollywood film writers).
Leigh's talents for writing precisely tooled scenes as well
as pulling wrenching performances from his actors are best
displayed in the first meeting between Cynthia and Hortense.
Unlikely soul mates
Hortense, the result of a now-forgotten night between the
teen-age Cynthia and a black stranger, has only spoken to her
mother on the phone. Cynthia has no idea Hortense is black,
and agrees to meet her long-lost daughter at a grimy diner.
The scene, quite lengthy and shot in one continuous take, is
as fine as anything I've seen at the movies in the past year.
The slowly dawning moment when Cynthia recalls her brief
encounter with Hortense's father is classic, and both
actresses run through a wide range of emotions, ending with
an unexpected bond between two wildly different people.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of the film is that, rather than
throwing her life into yet another downward spiral of shame
and confusion, Hortense unlocks a long-dormant sense of pride
in Cynthia.
This self-respect is really only the starting point of an
unexpected, life-affirming ride. Mike Leigh, like Cynthia,
has finally grown up. Now if American audiences could only
do the same.
Watch for Leigh, and, if there's any justice, Blethyn, at the
Oscars.