Could the Set Design on “Defending Jacob” be a Clue to Solving the Mystery?

Join me as I make some wild guesses about where Defending Jacob is headed based on what little I know about movie language. Truth is, I haven’t read the book that the series is based on and therefore, my guessing is probably just as good as yours. Spoilers for all four episodes and some minor spoilers for Gone Girl.

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Due to the lack of new cinematic content being released (thanks Corona!), I thought I’d give Apple TV’s new limited series “Defending Jacob” a try. The series stars Chris Evans as the inexplicably buff district attorney Andy Barber whose son Jacob (played with something hovering between teenage secrecy and almost sociopathic removedness by Jaeden Martell) is the main suspect in a murder case. Now, I’m always on board with a murder mystery but with Defending Jacob, I was undecided at first if I really wanted to continue watching after the first two episodes.

The main reason was that I felt that there was something fundamentally off with Defending Jacob and it really irritated me from the beginning: I’m talking about the production design and, more specifically, the set design of the interior of the Barber’s house. Now, the whole look of the series is pretty dark: the colours are cold and muted, making the events surrounding the investigation feel like they take place in autumn or early winter, yet from the court scenes between Andy and Neil, we learn that it is actually supposed to be May. But absolutely no spring feelings there (on the other hand, Massachusetts is maybe a place where the seasons are weirdly warped).

The set design of their house however takes it to another level: It is so cold and soulless and comes off as so artificial and manufactured. The whole place feels unnatural, everything is so perfectly clean and orderly and new and shiny. Nothing really seems to have a personality. In short, it doesn’t feel like anyone actually lives there. It rather seems like the Barbers live in a showroom. (Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any pictures of the interior of the Barber’s house for some reason – none that Chris Evans being domestic wasn’t the focus of anyway – but if you’re reading this article, chances are you’re watching the series and therefore know what the house looks like.) I found the “generic-ness” of their home space really disturbing and I repeatedly asked myself if the producers really think that people actually live like that. It almost put me off watching the series. However now, half way through, I changed my perspective on the set design. And by that I mean, I still feel like it is unnatural and cold and uninviting, but now I think that this is done intentionally.

With its interior design, Defending Jacob is giving me serious Gone Girl vibes. I mean, look at these pictures from the interior of Nick’s and Amy’s house in Gone Girl:

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Similarly to Defending Jacob, the interior of the house in Gone Girl stands out through its generic furnishing, unnatural perfection and absence of individuality.

Besides the set, there are more similar elements between the two: both are crime mysteries focused on the family lives of white, privileged Americans, one of which becomes the main suspect in a crime investigation (in Gone Girl, protagonist Nick Dunne is suspected to be responsible for the disappearance of his wife, Amy). Moreover, both narratives make you question the intentions and the story of the protagonists. Gone Girl famously turns a seemingly simple missing person-case into a tale of domestic abuse that slowly unravels the toxicity of the relationship between Amy and Nick. The set design plays an integral part in (maybe just subconsciously) conveying that toxicity and tension. Production designer Jon Hutman points this out in a YouTube video that I just so stumbled upon (it’s totally awesome, you should definitely check it out) and calls this design principle the “veneer of perfect domestic order“. Hutman points out that the production design is used to create tension and suggest doubt to the viewer because the home space, which should feel safe and familiar, looks so cold and empty.

“The house and the interior and the furnishing are so intentionally generic. [… ] It looks like no one lives there, there is no history, there’s no sense of life there.“

Jon Hutman in Vanity Fair’s Production Designer Reviews Movie Mansions, from ‘The Royal Tenenbaums’ to ‘Clueless’

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Different rooms (foyer, bathroom and kitchen) all have the same, disgustingly yellowish beige colour.

So in Gone Girl, the set design is a subtle clue to the dysfunction of Amy and Nick’s relationship. Can this be transferred to Defending Jacob?

Well, there are two, possibly contradictory aspects that should be mentioned. First, it might be that Defending Jacob‘s look and feel is just Apple’s aesthetic and for all I know, that could be true. I haven’t seen any other of their shows and maybe they look equally cold. Secondly, you might say the house is made to feel like a cold and unnatural space because the Barber’s family life is turned upside down and they essentially become imprisoned in their own home, making them experience it as a rather hostile space. Could be, but seeing that the house looked and felt cold and uninviting ever since the beginning, I’m not very inclined to support this argument. Plus, even emotionally lighter and more wholesome scenes, like Andy and Jacob’s movie night, are set in the equally generic and artificially furnished living room.

So, with what I know, I do think that the set design is hinting at some kind of family dysfunction. I’d be really surprised if it weren’t and if it turned out that the set design just expresses how Apple executives/ the show producers (idk who’d be responsible here) envision actual, normal home life. On the other hand, the Barbers are a higher class, American family, none of which I am, so maybe home decoration just works a little different across the pond.

Anyway, congrats if you made it this far. Now, here’s my take on who’s suspect in Defending Jacob. As previously elaborated, the set design prompts me to the theory that something is up with the Barber family. Like, there is something seriously wrong or messed up within the family. And I don’t just mean Andy’s father, which has already been established as a plot thread about a conflicting family background. I think the conflict is a lot more closely linked to the relationship between Andy and Laurie, his wife. I sense some impending doom relating to these two. I don’t think they are in a good place as a couple. Generally, they don’t have a lot of chemistry (and I won’t attribute this to a lack of acting skill on Evans’ and Dockery’s end, I think it is meant to come off as cold and distanced), and obviously, they both weren’t/aren’t upfront about themselves and their actions (Andy about his father and Laurie about contacting the Meredith Messenger for additional details). So, do I think that someone in the family is responsible for the murder?

First of all, I don’t think Jacob did it. That would be too easy and I’d be really disappointed if that was the resolution in the end. Instead, I’m super suspicious about Andy.

A really interesting minor detail I noticed was when Laurie’s best friend Toby calls her at some point in the first (?) episode, Laurie’s phone displays a picture of both of them together as the caller ID. However, when Andy calls her in episode 4, the caller ID only displays “Andy” without any picture. The fact that Laurie didn’t choose a picture of her husband of 14 years for the caller ID seems super suspicious. Additionally, Laurie mentions how Andy practically has no close friends which is – you guessed it, also suspicious.

Now, let us get into deeper spoiler territory for some more supporting evidence of my theory:

I first became really suspect of Andy when he threw away Jacob’s knife. Now that is not a smart move and Andy is a lawyer who should have known that this might be potential evidence. And I’m not buying his excuse that “any parent would’ve done that”. Moreover, the story is told from Andy’s perspective – he is questioned in court ten months later and basically retells the story of what happened. This of course gives him the opportunity to mould the story in a way that benefits him. He constructs the narrative, so he might just put himself into a better light. Plus, the fact that Andy didn’t tell Laurie at some point in the course of their 14-year marriage that his father was convicted for murder makes me belief that he has more to hide. His reasoning – not wanting to be stereotyped or prejudiced against for being the son of a criminal – is understandable but with all the other suspect stuff he’s, it doing doesn’t speak in his favour. Other than that, the show is trying at all costs to make him out as a supportive, unwavering father who is so convinced of his son’s innocence that he might just do anything (after all, his investigative measures are highly questionable) – so why not also murder for his son? Of course, there’s a lot of incomplete reasoning here on my side and I don’t see a motif yet but so far, Andy is highly suspect to me. We certainly don’t have the complete picture yet.

Also, quite unrelated, Leonard Patts checks all the boxes for a red herring. Just saying.

Now, what do you think? Do you have any predictions or theories? Who do you think is suspect?

The Virtue of Unapologetic Honesty: Jenny Slate’s Stage Fright

Recently I discovered something wonderful: Jenny Slate’s Netflix comedy special Stage Fright. “It’s playful, it’s personal, it’s perfectly Jenny,” tells us the trailer, and oh yes, it is all this. But most of all, it comes across as being unapologetically honest. Now see me try (and fail) to do justice to it in something like an essay… bit of a review, I guess? … well, anyway, in a lot of words and rambling to break down the essence of Jenny Slate: Stage Fright.

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“I’m so pissed about bullshit as a young woman.”

There is a lot for me to say about “Stage Fright”. I will do my best to shortly sum up some of its most memorable aspects before I dive deeper into what’s so great about it. The premise of Jenny Slate’s Netflix special is the blend of a hilarious, energy-ridden live performance with documentary-like snippets of interviews with her family members, home videos and childhood stories. Between her poignantly retelling her experience of attending a midnight mass as a Jewish woman and really quite creepy stories about growing up in a haunted house, she also narrates her attempts of dealing with her divorce and considers reasons for her stage fright. This mixture of bitter-sweet candour and laugh-aloud moments worked really well for me and made for an emotional rollercoaster of a spectacle. But there is more to her performance than just entertainment: after watching, I was left with a sense of inspiration, gratitude and pride and I just felt a lot clearer…

I hardly know where to begin with describing how much I loved this Netflix Special. How much I needed it, maybe. There was something empowering about watching Jenny perform, something inspiring even, and I think her work in “Stage Fright” has elements of catharsis in it, maybe even something that goes beyond catharsis.

First of all, we need to understand what catharsis is and how it is achieved: Catharsis in the Aristotelian sense is understood to be the spiritually cleansing effect that is imparted on the viewer through suffering with the characters in a play. A successful catharsis is achieved through mimesis, the complete imitation of man, complete meaning incorporating positive as well as negative features. The characters in a classical drama should thus always be, as in real life, mixed characters, not universally good, not universally evil. They were meant to represent humankind as closely as possible, to emulate human beings so that the audience would perceive them as real. Sharing the experiences of these “real” characters and suffering with them as they unsuccessfully maneuver through a series of tragic events (a classical drama always ends in with a catastrophe) should then rid the viewer of negative feelings.

So, is Jenny the tragic hero in her Netflix Special and cleanses us, the viewers, from feelings of misery and fear? Well, sort of. But there is more to it. Let me explain what I mean.

Honesty + Authenticity > Mimesis

Applying the cathartic principle to “Stage Fright”, we laugh and cry with Jenny and come out feeling better. That a successful catharsis was achieved means that the mimesis was well done, that the character was convincing in its complexity. There is just one flaw in that logic: Jenny Slate is not a character. She isn’t imitating someone. She is a real person. She is being herself.

I don’t think the value of being one’s true authentic self could be overestimated, especially in a time when communication mostly happens online and thus, the presentation of oneself to others can be, through various tools, more easily distorted and modified than ever before. Self-image seems to be in a crisis, with many people struggling with themselves as individuals in a superficial world and trying to stand out from the crowd. Opposed to this longing for self-discovery are the stereotypes and ideals often perpetuated through media and marketing which (understandably) cause many to get lost in a pit of conformity where the same old characteristics seem to be endlessly regurgitated.

Jenny Slate’s “Stage Fright” was a gust of fresh air to me. Seeing someone present themselves so honestly, so completely as a person with all their quirks and eccentricities, fears and pains, baring their soul, sharing their experience so truthfully and with so much rawness has become rare.

Slate talks, amongst many things, about her (ongoing) experience with loneliness, sharing her evolution from an often angry teenager to a newly-divorced and overwhelmed adult. Sometimes, there are comedic elements to that story, sometimes notes of sadness linger and allow for moments of consideration and despair, but overall, it is always touching. And it is touching because it comes from a true, whole person.

No matter how good the acting, no matter how convincing the story, I think we can never get the same kind of inspiration from fictionalised, “imitating” content that we get from actual individuals sharing their stories and experiences. When we watch a play, a film or any other sort of heavily controlled and rehearsed medium, we know that it’s not real. There is a barrier between the characters and us, the viewers. We know they are actors, that they are simulating. But when something is real and authentic, like Slate in “Stage Fright”, it will resonate differently with us. Now, we are engaged in a true spirit of community, from human to human. We get more than an emotional cleansing from these exchanges: We get inspiration, encouragement and the will to change ourselves for the better. I’m very inclined to call this Catharis Plus…

“You’re just as sane as I am…” – Finally, someone says it!

“I am a human, adult woman,” Jenny Slate tells us in the beginning of her performance and promptly goes on to show us just how complicated and weird of an experience that can be:

I know that a brain is supposed to be like… have mass and volume. My brain is more like a crepe that has been rolled by someone who isn’t French and is not committed to the cuisine and then inside the crepe is just one naked, wiggling worm that’s getting really tired and doesn’t know how it ended up there in that bad sleeping bag […].

The quote above is only one of many hilarious examples that showcase the way that Jenny “I’m a turtleneck as a person” Slate makes sense of the world, how she thinks and how she feels her brain works. And there is no shame in her report. She doesn’t feel like she has to justify the eccentricity of her experiences and her feelings, because why should she? These are her feelings and no matter how weird they are, that doesn’t make them any less valuable. She doesn’t seem like she’s afraid of being subjected to judgement or possibly rejection.

Seeing all that “weirdness” in her world made me feel a lot better about the outlandish thoughts and feelings that I often have. I was honestly quite relieved to hear these things from another human being. Maybe, I’m not that crazy after all… Other than comforting me that my weirdness isn’t something all that unusual, Jenny also inspired and encouraged me to be a more authentic person myself. I feel like sometimes, all it takes is knowing that another person shares your perspective on certain matters, to give you the confidence to articulate your thoughts and feelings. As Jenny expressed her discomfort about watching porn (which is, I guess, one of the less weird things that she talks about, at least, I’d hope so), I felt again comforted knowing that I wasn’t the only one to have this issue. Moreover, it’s not only that she talked about this topic in general, it is also the fact that she unapologetically, eloquently and comically resumed the most problematic aspects of it (all these quotes are by the way a lot more funny in performance and I hope the lacking fitness of this medium to accurately reproduce the hilarity of the show won’t deter you from checking it out yourself):

And then I was like, ‘Well, maybe I could dip into some of my disgusting fantasies, like my boss […] is like, ‘Hey, Slate, get in here and sit on my dick. Otherwise you’re fired.” And then I’d turn on the news and it’s like, “Another boss said, ‘Sit on my dick, or you’re fired.'”

Jenny Slate on trying to watch porn

Nailed it!

“I have made love to the moon.” – From despair to hope

Another thing that consoled and inspired me were the more vulnerable and raw moments. When she talked about the highly personal topic of her divorce, I found it a) utterly moving to see how comfortable she felt sharing this vulnerable side of her and b) it made me feel a real sense of connection (even though I was never divorced). Jenny lets us in on some of her saddest and most desperate moments: how lonely and angry she felt as a child and how she, imbued with a sense of abandonment and in need of comfort, moves back to her parents’ house after her divorce. She skillfully interlaces these moments with some sarcasm so that it never feels cliché or cheesy. There is true, palpable despair in these moments.

Just like when she tears up when talking about her stage fright, the candour of these moments is overwhelming.

It’s that right before I go on stage, I am presented with this essential question which is, “Will they… will they like me?” And I know that they will once I start to talk, but I don’t earn the love unless I give something beautiful that goes out.

Jenny Slate on the source of her stage fright

As desperate as these moments are, there is light at the end of the tunnel. “Stage Fright” ends on a hopeful note: Slate accepts her sadness, the comedic tragedy that she feels her life has often been, and embraces it. She learns to understand and grow from it. And as a viewer, I felt that she had, through openly, unapologetically and authentically sharing her feelings, inspired and encouraged me and thus shown me the real virtue of unapologetic honesty.

Final Thoughts (aka things that didn’t fit anywhere else)

After all I just wrote, I think it goes without saying that I absolutely adored this performance and I feel like it will help me grow as a person. There is a lot of sadness and suffering in life but sharing our worries is a vital part in overcoming them.

Then there is also her obvious enjoyment of her performance. I think sadly, it is still rare to see women be proud of their work because it is usually interpreted as them being arrogant. But Jenny’s genuine excitement, the way she truly seemed to give everything for her show (I could endlessly replay the clip of her coming on the stage and jumping around excitedly, before breaking out into a short dance routine), was so refreshing. I as a viewer also got the impression that she had a really good time and that she enjoyed her performance and I really hope that she did really allow herself to have fun.

Many reviewers have called it weird (and I also use this word to describe unusual thoughts) but I refuse to believe that these people truly in their hearts felt like it was actually weird. I mean, don’t we all have these weird thoughts, outlandish feelings and sensations that we’re not talking about because while we’re living in a culture that is incredibly focused on individuality, we are simultaneously still afraid of truly being ourselves for fear of being subjected to judgement and possibly rejection?

Point is, Jenny is like that one friend you have that says exactly what they feel all of the time and she owns it! I’m really grateful she crafted something so beautiful, so raw and so authentic which made me proud to be a human adult woman (even though adult only on paper…). And even though I will probably continue to be “pissed about bullshit as a young woman.”

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March Recap: Ranking of All Films I saw this Month

…. featuring films about and with children, about family dynamics, films starring women and LGBT characters, so many films from 2017 (coincidence?), some indie gems, some classics, some new and some old. No spoilers.

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The Florida Project (2017): 10/10

Sean Baker’s radiant take on a child’s perspective of life in poverty was an instant hit for me. I didn’t know what to expect so I was surprised to find myself crying by the end. It’s still a mystery to me how this movie managed to hook me from the beginning because there is virtually no plot. However, there is an undeniable charm in the colourful set design, the amazing, naturally flowing dialogues and the excellent acting of everyone involved. Now, don’t get the wrong impression: this isn’t sugary-sweet fun for the whole family. Many complaints have been made about how unbearable this film is; its seeming incoherence, all the children running around, screaming and shouting obscenities, adults being irresponsible and neglecting their children. And yes, this is a substantial part of the movie, so it might not be for everyone. The movie is often painful to watch despite all the bright colours and the shenanigans the children are up to: It portrays the daily struggles and the desperate measures to make money that are reality for the majority of America’s lower class without being condescending or making an overt political statement.

I adore this film and I enjoyed every second of it. Doubtless the best film I saw this month. Highly recommended!

Summer 1993 (2017): 9/10

Another film focussing on a child’s perspective, although this time set in the gorgeous landscapes of Catalonia, is Carla Simón’s directorial debut that draws from her own experience and memories. Summer 1993 is the story of little Frida (Laia Artigas) who is orphaned after the death of her mother and moves from her urban apartment in Barcelona to her uncle’s farm in rural Catalonia, where she has to work through her grief and integrate into a family life that is very different from the one she knows. This is a bittersweet film about loss and family that stands out due to the amazing performances and its honesty and delicacy in treating a very sensitive topic. Truly heart-wrenching, the films has moments of very authentic tension as well as melancholic tones and handles its tonal shifts very well.

Onward (2020): 8/10

Pixar’s newest work tells the story of two brothers in a fairy-tail world where magic has basically been replaced by technology. This quirky set-up unfolds its true potential when the brothers’ attempt to magically bring back their father for a day goes horribly wrong, leaving them with the lower half of their parent and prompting them to go on an adventure to save the(ir) day. While certainly not Pixar’s best, the film is still the studio’s characteristic mix of entertainment and genuine heart-felt moments. It is certainly better-suited for fans of the fantasy genre, mostly because it pokes fun at numerous clichés and adventure game tropes. The ending stays true to Pixar’s formula and is arguably the strongest part of the movie. Perfect story telling in a setting that unfortunately often comes off as too contrived.

The Red Phallus (2018): 8/10

Another indie gem on the list, this is a haunting tale about female oppression that operates on the basis of one of it own quotes:

“Don’t assume my silence is empty.”

Set in the stunning mountainous scenery of Bhutan, The Red Phallus is a slow-paced, rather taciturn film about feelings of isolation in a culture dominated by men. It is as visually stimulating as it is thought-provokingly eerie. The film relies very little on dialogue and the imagery is all the more significant. There is certainly a lot to mull over afterwards. An uneasy watch, but certainly one worth the time.

I, Tonya (2017): 8/10

The tumultuous life story of figure skater Tonya Harding was unheard of for me, so I won’t spoil it here in case anyone else here is living the blissfully unaware life. I, Tonya turns Harding’s life into a dark comedy riddled with wonderfully recreated skating scenes. Despite a lot of comedic moments, the film doesn’t gloss over darker elements of Harding’s life like the domestic abuse she endured. Some of the jokes crossed the line for me but I guess that just comes down to taste. All performances are great and it is obvious that a lot of thought and care went into the recreation of characters, outfits and locations. There are some characters and moments in this film that are almost too painfully laughable to be true, so it is almost shocking to have them revealed as meticulous and almost line-by-line imitations of actual interview footage by the time the credits roll around.

Gone Girl (2014): 8/10

I finally made time to see this one and I didn’t regret it once! David Fincher’s thriller about the strained marriage of Nick and Amy Dunne (Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike) and her sudden disappearance is a slow but steady descent into madness. Rosamund Pike’s performance especially is stellar and I found it so refreshing to see such a compellingly villainous female character on screen. The “Cool Girl-Monologue” is a classic scene that probably all female viewers will emphasise with. The ending requires some viewers to throw logic and common sense out of the window to make it work (and that is a valid point of critique) but it makes sense within the narrative. Wonderfully written, expertly directed and amazingly acted, you shouldn’t miss out on this one (like I did for 6 years…).

Earthquake Bird (2019): 8/10

This Netflix production hasn’t received much love and is in my opinion chiefly underrated. To be honest, the main reason I watched it is Alicia Vikander (because, well, Alicia Vikander) and I didn’t know what to expect. Earthquake Bird takes you straight to 80’s Japan and explores the relationship between translator Lucy who is haunted by her past, her boyfriend Teiji, a photographer, and their friend Lily who went missing. The film slowly unravels each character’s secrets while staying mostly mysterious until the end, which felt admittedly a bit sudden and very rushed. I also still don’t know what the deal with the titular Earthquake bird is, but apart from that, the film really gripped my attention and I was on the edge of my seat watching it. Also, Alicia Vikander is amazing as usual.

A Fantastic Woman (2017): 7.5/10

How I suffered alongside the protagonist watching this one… A Fantastic Woman is the story of transgender singer Marina (wonderfully played by Daniela Vega, a trans-woman herself) who is brought into the center of a crime investigation after her lover’s sudden death. The film bears testimony to the discrimination and violence against trans people and has an urgent message that hopefully no one will refute. Never objectifying the protagonist, the film has a very delicate and sensitive approach to Marina’s struggles. Watching this film was an emotional rollercoaster between tender sympathy for Marina and anger at her fellow human beings. Dreamlike moments and hallucinations add a bittersweet, escapist note to the narrative. The imagery is mostly well-done, “mostly” because some visual cues were just too on-the-nose and unnecessary. Another critical aspect are the antagonists who are just so plain evil and have no redeeming quality what so ever which makes them seem very one-dimensional and fake.

Call Me By Your Name (2017): 7/10

Many people, including my friends, have highly praised this film and while I understand why they loved it, I didn’t really love love it. It’s a great film, no question, but I’m not a friend of romance stories at all, so the film didn’t really get me, if that makes sense? The setting is gorgeous, the performances don’t disappoint and the soundtrack is incredible. The plot is… well, it’s a love story tied to the coming-of-age of protagonist Elio (Timothée Chalamet). It’s tender, it’s sweet and it’s perfectly awkward at times. I feel almost bad because I’m not completely in love with this one. You should definitely see it.

Talking About Trees (2019): 7/10

This is a documentary about four Sudanese filmmakers trying to set up a cinema showing. It’s a love declaration to cinema and those who watch it. I guess especially people interested in film history will greatly appreciate this one and gain a lot from it. I had the wrong expectation going it, thinking this was a fictional film, so I felt like it was quite a stretch and the little tension I felt was whether they would be able to show the movie or not. The protagonists are however all charming and their friendship is inspiring. I walked away feeling more aware of Sudanese culture and politics and I’m glad I saw it.

Clueless (1995) & Mean Girls (2003): 7/10

Both undeniably comedy classics and pop culture phenomena, I was really positively surprised by both. I’m grouping them together here because they are quite similar and I both liked them equally and couldn’t pick a superior one. Dealing with the often complicated friendships in high school years, heartbreak and peer pressure, I found myself relating to the struggles of the girls on screen. What else to say about these films? I mean, come on, you already know why you love them.

Limitless (2011): 6/10

Based on the rather innovative premise that a drug can give you unlimited access to your complete brain potential, this sci-fi thriller is a fun time. There are plenty of little twists and turns and the film is visually impressive. However, there was no real investment in the characters on my behalf and I am afraid I already forgot most of the plot. I would probably watch it again if I need some light entertainment, though.

Ace Ventura – Pet Detective (1994): 5/10

The first scene is hilarious, but it slumps from there. Jim Carrey delivers a solid comedic performance and his facial contortions will probably remain the only (positive) memorable aspect of this movie. A lot of the jokes didn’t age well (was homophobia ever funny, though?) and it sometimes left me feeling more uncomfortable than entertained.

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The First and The Last: The Florida Project

I recenly saw “The Florida Project” for the first time. The film episodically captures the events in the life of six-year-old Moonee over one summer as she lives in a budget motel near Disneyworld with her unemployed mother, mucks around, and wreaks havoc on the residents and the motel manager with her friends.

Despite the lack of actual plot, I found it to be oddly captivating and it had me in tears by the end of it. It was a refreshingly authentic, unbiased and unexpectedly well-acted take on the life of lower-class America, largely portrayed through the eyes of a child. In honor of this excellent film (and because I am a firm believer in the significance of beginnings and endings in media), I thought I’d take a look at the first and the last shot of The Florida Project in order to determine what exactly made the ending so touching. Obviously, spoilers ahead.

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Plot Summary

As my interpretation will focus on protagonist Moonee and her friends, I will summarise only the events necessary to understand their relationship. The film gives commentary on a whole lot of other interesting aspects and I can only recommend to see the film for yourself.

The film starts off as Moonee and her friends Dicky and Scooty pay a special visit to newly arrived residents at the neighbouring motel: they spit on the newcomer’s car which seems to be an established practice. However, they are caught by the woman who owns the car and have to clean it up. They meet Jancey, the woman’s granddaughter, whom they befriend and take with them on their adventures around the area, which include (amongst others) scrounging money from tourists to buy ice cream, annoying the motel manager, and breaking into abandoned holiday homes. When they set fire to one of said homes and Dicky’s mother finds out, she forbids Dicky from playing with Moonee again. Around the same time, Scooty and his father leave the motel, leaving Jancey as Moonee’s primary friend. Throughout the film, it is also established that Moonee’s mother Haley continuously struggles to pay the weekly rent. Her measures to earn money become increasingly more desperate, which finally prompts a child care service to show up. Moonee is afraid of being separated from her mother, so she runs away from the social workers to find Jancey. Together, they run away from the motel and escape to Disneyworld.

The First Shot

The first shot of the film sees protagonist Moonee and her friend Dicky sitting on the ground, leaning against a purple wall. Both stare around relaxed but disinterested, Moonee’s feet tapping together every now and then. Everything is silent except for the distant sound of cars rushing by and the cawing of seagulls. Then, from the distance of the off screen, we hear a boy call out their names and they turn their heads, excitement spreading on their faces, towards the approaching Scooty.

The shot is static and perfectly captures the perceived passivity of the two children, even as the atmosphere shifts from bored indifference to one of excitement and curiosity. They are merely reacting to their surroundings and they seem a bit lost. This is a stark contrast to the upcoming scene where they will go on to spit on someone’s car and an even stronger contrast to the rest of the film where the children are shown bossing everyone around, randomly insulting people and basically just doing whatever they want. I think this opening shot and its contrast to the rest of the film serves to ground the viewer and remind us that these are after all just children. Foul mouthed, bratty children, but still children after all. Of course, the seemingly peaceful shot is immediately inverted by Scooty’s arrival and his almost battle cry-like declaration “Freshies at the Future!”, which prompts them to run over to the Future Land Motel and just, well, spit on a car. Still children.

The Last Shot

The last shot tracks Moonee and Jancey, hand in hand, as they run through the crowds at Disneyland towards the iconic Magic Kingdom Castle, dodging bystanders. Jancey is clearly the one in charge, being more decisive and guiding Moonee through the crowd. Contrary to the first shot, the two children here do not seem lost at all: they seem to know exactly where they are going. They run towards the Castle, and here the movie ends.

This shot is obviously more active and chaotic than the first one. The sense of chaos is heightened by the shaky camera work. While it is unclear whether this scene actually happens or only takes place in Moonee’s imagination, the feeling of loss of control, which Moonee certainly experiences, is expressed here, not only by the chaos but also through the characters themselves: It’s Jancey who leads the way, she’s the one making the decisions.

A re-occuring motif that is – in my understanding – key to understanding the ending is kingdom. Moonee lives at the Magic Castle Motel which is, quite literally, a magic castle to her: Here, she can do whatever she wants. It often seems like she has more control over the place than the manager Bobby himself. At various times the movie shows her easily escaping from infuriated adults because she just knows her way around the motel so well. She also knows where the important maintenance rooms are and messes with everyone as she switches off the electricity at one point. Bobby is left to deal with the situation and try to limit the damage. And while she is often reproached for her antics, she never gets into any serious trouble for it. The motel is her kingdom and she is the ruler.

Now, I have never been to Florida, so I don’t know if these motels are maybe all really as exceptionally coloured as in the film, but I’m sure that director Sean Baker chose the outstanding purplish colour for a reason.

Purple is a regal colour and is often associated with magic. Moreover, it is a colour many young girls might want their house to be painted in if you’d ask them. Some of the film’s more quiet scenes in which we see Moonee play with fairy dolls and unicorn toys tie into this notion that the motel really is a magic, fantastical kingdom to Moonee. It’s her paradise.

Towards the ending this paradise, her kingdom, is intruded by forces far out of her control: The child-care service threatens to destroy her perfect life. Everything falls apart as she is threatened to be separated from her mother. Her reign over this place is coming to an end, so the only option for her is to escape and oh, escape she does. She runs away to Future (!) Land Motel where Jancey lives. She gives up her leadership and is lead to Disneyworld by Jancey.

This is an interesting shift in the dynamic, considering that Moonee has been the more dominant figure in their friendship throughout the film. Moonee “surrenders” in a way to her friend, trusting that Jancey will make the right decisions and care for her. This is what makes the ending endearing in a rather wicked way: Moonee goes through the emotional turmoil of being separated from her mother and for the first time in the film, she doesn’t come up with a plan to evade a difficult situation. She is out of control.

Jancey’s destination is the Magic Kingdom Castle in Disneyworld, the manifestation of dreams come true for people of all ages. It stands for fantasy, and magic, and harmony, it is a promise of the classic fairy-tale ending. All will be well and they lived happily ever after…. It is a beacon of hope to these two lost children, a last resort, a safe place they can turn to when everything falls apart. It is peak escapism; Jancey wants to take Moonee here because she thinks this is where everything will be all right. It is her attempt to provide comfort for Moonee after Moonee has helped her feel comfortable and at home after moving to Future Land.

The film’s tag line, Find Your Kingdom, parallels this sentiment of hope: Somewhere in the world, there is a place where you are safe. I don’t think that the safe place for Moonee is Disneyworld, I think the safety comes from her friendship with Jancey: After all, in the touching climax of the film, Moonee runs off to seek out Jancey’s help and when she finally finds her, she is unable to detail her current situation. She only knows that she might not every see Jancey again. And Jancey, despite not understanding Moonee’s distress, wants to help, knows she needs to help and she takes care of the situation by seeking out the Magic Kingdom Castle. Jancey’s willingness to help Moonee is more decisive and significant than their going to Disneyworld (which we have no proof of actually happening). I find the ending to be a wonderful testimony to their friendship, especially seeing that when they first met, Moonee literally spat on Jancey. So even though the starting point of their relationship seemed to be hostile and unfavourable, something wonderful still managed to flourish from that point on.

“You know why this is my favorite tree?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause it’s tipped over, and it’s still growing.”

Moonee and Jancey

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The First and The Last will be a series of essays aiming to examine the opening scene, shot or line of a film, chapter or line of a book, verse of a poem or song, or the first episode of a series and compare it to the last scene, shot, line, chapter, verse or episode in order to highlight character evolution, thematic shifts and plot development.

Jane Eyre & Physiognomy

A curious aspect that struck me while reading Charlotte Brontë’s 1847 classic Jane Eyre is the particular way in which she tends to describe her characters: physical features are often linked to character traits, a practice that was apparently very popular in the 19th century and that we nowadays have come to know as physiognomy.

The following contains minor spoilers for Jane Eyre. Proceed at your own risk.

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“[…] there was something about his nostril, his mouth, his brow, which, to my perceptions, indicated elements within either restless, or hard, or eager.”

Bell/Brontë, 1847, p.351 *

The above mentioned quote describes protagonist Jane Eyre’s cousin St. John Rivers. What’s so special about it, you ask? Well, apparently, our protagonist can, with a simple glance on the facial features of her companion, determine at once that his character is of a rather ambitious, determined and/or uneasy disposition. It is just one of many examples throughout the book that showcases this practice. Another instance of it can be found, although in slightly different fashion, earlier in the book, when Jane and her employer, Mr Rochester, converse about the latter’s appearance:

“He lifted up the sable waves of hair which lay horizontally over his brow, and showed a solid enough mass of intellectual organs, but an abrupt deficiency where the suave sign of benevolence should have risen.”

Bell/Brontë, 1847, p.134 *

Here, apparently, the shape of Mr Rochester’s forehead leads Jane to believe that he is considerably intelligent while simultaneously lacking in benevolence. What is going on here are two very similar practices: physiognomy and phrenology.

What are those?

Physiognomy is the practice of deducing character traits from someone’s (usually facial) features. It is closely linked to phrenology which is a practice based on the assumption that certain characteristics and psychological traits (like memory or intelligence, for example) are located in certain regions of the brain. A strong development of a certain area would then cause a protrusion of the cranial bone which then enables you to determine someone’s traits by examining the shape of their skull. According to charts assembled by German doctor Franz Joseph Gall who propagated this theory, the “spirit for murder”, for example, is located behind one’s ears towards the back of the head, so a protrusion of this part of your skull would suggest to a phrenologist that you are a particularly murderous individual.

It can be easily seen from the explanation of these two practices that they are not… well…. unproblematic in their implications. Classifying people on the basis of their looks opens the door towards a lot of problems, raging from discrimination to blunt racism. Nowadays, we have stopped assigning any credibility or scientific value to physiognomy (it is in fact classified as a pseudoscience) but in the eighteenth century, it was considered as a respectable scientific endeavour of great utility (cf. Fara, 2003, p.495).

Admittedly, I for my part am very glad that physiognomy is no longer an accepted practice because I am acutely aware of the possibility of misuse. However, I have come across a different proponent of the theory in a recent university seminar about Kant and teleologic philosophy. Now, Kant and his teleology might be topics for another time (or maybe not, he’s a real pain to read). In philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer’s work The World as Will and Representation I encountered the concept of physiognomy for the first time and, as I was reading Jane Eyre at the time, this is where I first thought, “Hey, that sounds a lot like how Charlotte Brontë describes her characters.”. And now, we’re here (hooray for the transfer of study content to private life!). Back to Schopenhauer: he gave us a different explanation for why physiognomy might be a meaningful concept.

Physiognomy as a teleological concept

First of all, let’s briefly talk about teleology: it is a doctrine that contends that there is an end or a goal immanent to every (natural) process. Schopenhauer in his principal work The World as Will and Representation presents his understanding that the will (as an aimlessly wandering instinct or principle) is the underlying force behind everything. He claims that all physical objects are manifestations of the will, in other words, he describes the will as a force that shapes the appearance of every entity, living or not. Especially in the case of humans the will plays an exceptionally outstanding role in the physical representation (cf. Schopenhauer, 1818, p.197). In Volume 2 of his work (which is titled The Objectification of the Will), Schopenhauer talks about different stages of said objectification: humans are on the highest level of the objectification of the will. There is a broad range of different characters among the human race and the individual will of each human is mirrored in its unique physique/ physiognomy. For Schopenhauer, each human is the representation of one unique idea (cf. Schopenhauer, 1818, p.198) and therefore, humans differ greatly in their appearance. However, the lower the level, the more is the individuality lost and the more dominant are the general traits of the species. A certain animal, for example, shares its traits with the rest of its species, there is little individual variance (cf. Schopenhauer, 1818, p.198). Plants exist on the lowest level, they all look more or less the same and their differences can usually be attributed to external influences (cf. Schopenhauer, 1818, p.198).

I found the notion that each human is its unique idea very poetic in itself, however it gives way to the same implications as discussed above. In general, it is hugely problematic to assign a specific idea (i.e. a fixed character) to a human individual because it is unclear whether any such notion is compatible with personal development, character growth and individual responsibility. The theory that we are all fundamentally different isn’t hugely beneficial for a social coexistence either. But this didn’t start out as a critique of Schopenhauer’s teleological theory. The question at hand is a different one.

What does all this mean for Jane Eyre, though?

Reader, an excellent question. To be honest, it is (for me at least) quite puzzling that Brontë refers to physiognomy for her characterisation so frequently. After all, the novel constantly inverts classical beauty in a way that most of the characters described as beautiful, handsome or good-looking turn out as untalented, bland or not particularly kind. Blanche Ingram, the dowager’s daughter rumored to marry Mr Rochester, impresses everyone greatly with her “[…] sloping shoulders, the graceful neck, the dark eyes and black ringlets […]” (Bell/Brontë, 1847, p.175) but Jane sees right through her, calling her satirical and arrogant. Similarly, Jane’s pupil, Adèle, is a strikingly adorable child, beautiful with her long blond locks and cute face (cf. Bell/Brontë, 1847, p.102), however, as Mr Rochester admits, she isn’t outstandingly intelligent and while not completely talentless, she is not exceedingly successful in her artistic pursuits either. The third and last (and most striking) example is St. John Rivers, Jane’s cousin: he is tall and slim, his face is “pure in outline: quite a straight, classic nose; quite an Athenian mouth and chin” (Bell/Brontë, 1847, p.350). And even though he is an outstanding example of Greek beauty, he is cold at heart and obsessed with his self-declared mission to go to Asia as a missionary.

So, while the novel constantly reminds us that appearance isn’t everything, that looks are deceiving, it also puts emphasis on the fact that someone’s physicality can reveal certain character traits. How come? The most intuitive (and simple) answer I can find to this question is that Jane Eyre is simply a testimony to its time. Physiognomy was after all an established practice in the nineteenth century and it is not surprising for a novel written in that time to mirror this circumstance. On the one hand, it seems to be a common trope of 19th century fiction (which I cannot myself attest to yet but I will keep an eye on it). On the other hand, Brontë maybe wanted to emphasise Jane’s pure and unbiased character. Maybe being able to tell someone’s character from their looks is the skill of a true philanthropist, of an expert judge of character, such as Jane is. She can peer behind the veil of appearance and see one’s true human nature. And that, I guess, is what makes her a true independent, self-determined person.

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* Sources:

– Brontë, Charlotte (2008): Jane Eyre, Signet Classics (the copy I used)

– Schopenhauer, Arthur (1973): Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, Bd.1 (The World as Will and Representation, Volume 1), Darmstadt, pp.196-198

– Fara, Patricia (2003): Marginalized Practices, in Porter, Roy (ed.) (2003): The Cambridge History of Science: Volume 4: Eighteenth-century science, Cambridge University Press, pp. 495–497