Angela

I recently had the opportunity to see an early screening of Rebecca Miller's new film, The Ballad of Jack and Rose, and I came away extremely impressed. Miller is one of the few filmmakers today who seems more comfortable directing nuanced, observant, characterizations than show-off flourishes of visual style and narrative gymnastics. After the unexpected artistic success of her previous film, Personal Velocity, Miller is fast becoming one of the most talented auteurs in America.

In interviews, Miller has described The Ballad of Jack and Rose as a variation/continuation of two characters from her 1995 debut, Angela. While this isn't literally the case, you can see what she's talking about once you've seen both films. Angela is the story of a family that crumbles as its matriarch suffers a psychological breakdown. Her two daughters struggle to cope, wandering around town discussing sex, death, heaven, and hell and eventually escaping into a bizarre fantasy world (three years later, Neil Jordan employed a similarly literary conceit in The Butcher Boy).

The parallels between Angela and Ballad are clear. Both feature voyeuristic little girls who spy on their parents' sex lives and feel protective of their fathers. Also, Angela's grim conclusion offers a clear point of continuation for Ballad.

Simultaneously stunning and a complete mess, Angela is reminiscent of David Gordon Green's similarly unfocussed 1997 debut, George Washington. More overtly cinematic than Miller's other films -- but just as literary -- Angela is a poetic, narratively clumsy tone poem. At its best, the film has a nicely relaxed, spontaneous quality and the two central child performances (by Miranda Stuart Rhyne and Charlotte Blythe) are excellent. Unfortunately, their parents are significantly less convincing -- particularly Anna Thomson as the girls' troubled mother -- and Miller just can't decide what she wants the film to be.

The film is presented in 1.33:1 but I would guess that it was shot in a wider ratio (probably 1.85:1). In spite of this, the transfer is extremely watchable and it offers a pretty vivid sense of Ellen Kuras' beautiful cinematography (Kuras also shot Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Miller's two subsequent features, and several Spike Lee films, among others).

Other than a few bios (for Miller, Kuras, and the film's producers), the only feature on the disc is a commentary by Rebecca Miller. She's an extremely intelligent and insightful filmmaker but she spends most of the track describing what's onscreen and providing straightfoward interpretation. Personally, this is not my preferred approach in a commentary. A few more personal anecdotes or production stories would have been welcome, as would some technical details and independent filmmaking tips. Miller doesn't even discuss her (obvious) cinematic influences (ie. Terrence Malick, The 400 Blows).

Of some interest, Miller explains that she spent several years in acting classes with the actor that plays the father (John Ventimiglia). There's also some interesting discussion of swing tilt lenses and the casting of Vincent Gallo (he was cast as a preacher because he has "a devilish face"). Still, it's a disappointing track.

While Angela isn't a fully realized, artistic success, admirers of Miller should appreciate the film's distinctive vision and cinematic ambition. This is her least impressive work but anyone who appreciates Personal Velocity or The Ballad of Jack and Rose should take a look, if only to understand the progress Miller has made. -- Jonathan Doyle