(USA, 111 min.)
Written and directed by Jason Reitman
Starring: Kate Winslet, Josh Brolin, Gattlin Griffith, Clark
Gregg, Tobey Maguire.
Programme: Special Presentations (World Premiere)
Jason Reitman is all grown up. The Canadian filmmaker
displayed an increasing maturity in the journey from Thank You for Smoking to Juno
to Up in the Air and then to Young Adult, but he seems to have really
come into his own with his adaptation of Joyce Maynard's novel Labor Day. Reitman displays a masterful
hand behind the camera and improves on a talent that already felt accomplished
in his first three films. Labor Day
easily marks Reitman's best film to date. It's a note-perfect adaptation of the
novel, and an intelligent, profoundly insightful, moving, and entertaining film
with a voice of its own.
Labor Day seems
like an especially relevant source text for Reitman to adapt and hit his
highest note as a director. It’s a tale of a boy growing up and coming of age
during the fateful Labour Day weekend of 1987. The boy, Henry (played by
impressive newcomer Gattlin Griffith), lives with his divorced mother Adele
(played by Kate Winslet… more on her later), in their large, lonely, and
somewhat decrepit suburban home. The tale is narrated in retrospect by an adult
Henry, who is voiced and played by Tobey Maguire. Henry is all Adele has, as
her she fell apart in the years surrounding her divorce: Henry has no idea of
his importance to Adele, but his love for his mother feels threatened when he
invites a stranger named Frank (played by Josh Brolin… more on him too) into
their home. Frank, an escaped convict, stays with Adele and Henry far longer
than expected after he coerces them into giving him a lift from the discount
store during one of Adele’s rare trips into town.
The Joyce Maynard novel has an especially delicate
tone and a tricky balance of humour and peril as Henry, Adele, and Frank
find love and friendship in this unusual encounter. Labor Day, the book, is like a beach read with the substance of a
classic as Maynard unfolds the story
in lucid prose that’s warm and inviting in spite of the darkness underlying the
tale. It’s this balance and tone that Reitman both recreates and furthers as he
brings Labor Day to the screen.
Reitman’s previous films have generally had an underlying
cynicism and a distinct edge of black humour, yet his hand at dark comedy can
still be seen in Labor Day even
though it marks his most dramatic film to date. The humour is subtly
perceptible, as it should be in such an awkward and almost unbelievable tale of
love at first sight. The conceit of Labor
Day—that Adele would be so lonely that she would let Frank into her home,
yet alone fall in love with him—seems more plausible on screen than it does in
print. We’re on the edge of our seats as Adele puts herself in jeopardy and
befriends Frank, yet she never wavers in her maternal devotion to Henry. The
smart melancholy score by Rolfe Kent adds an embedded tension and Reitman's
direction balances the tone by ensuring that Labor Day is never too much to bear
Equally remarkable at handling Labor Day's ability to move a viewer from tears to laughter are the
three stars of the film. Griffith carries the film extremely well. It's no easy
task for a young newcomer to play the lead in a film of such emotional
complexity but Griffith delivers a compelling and believable arc as Henry
experiences the strange and confusing odyssey of watching his mother fall in
love—and, in his mind, betray him—with the man who interrupts their innocent
relationship.
Winslet is similarly, if not exceptionally, remarkable in the
tricky role of Adele. Adele, on paper, isn't too distant from some of the
other bored, lonely suburban housewives and mothers Winslet has played in Revolutionary Road, Mildred Pierce, and most notably, Little Children. Winslet, however, brings a different facet to her
heartbreaking turn as Adele. There's a hunger and moroseness to Adele to we
haven't seen in Winslet before. Adele seems almost lifeless, dead on the
inside, as she moves throughout the house and hides in her car or frumpy
clothes in the introduction or flash back scenes of Labor Day. Winslet brings a spark to Adele whenever Henry is in the
room: the only thing keeping Adele alive is her unwavering love for her son.
It's not enough, though, as Winslet shows Adele transform as her maternal instinct
slowly allow her to trust Frank and she lets her guard dorm to invite him into
her home and heart. Winslet gives a performance of subtle and devastating
power.
Brolin gives an equally praiseworthy performance as Frank.
It isn't clear at first if we can trust Frank as he wears a smile and reassures
Adele as he ties her and Henry to a chair. Brolin’s Frank is kind and instantly
likeable, and like Adele, the necessity of building a relationship with his
hosts is palpably clear.
Reitman gradually builds the audience's allegiance to Frank
as he methodically flashes back and reveals the story behind Frank's
incarceration. The memory is delivered in a single blow in Maynard's novel, but
Reitman disperses the tale throughout the adaptation and adds another layer to
the delicate, complicated narratives of these flawed and relatable characters.
The flashbacks develop Adele's desperation in turn, as Frank's young lover shares
a striking physical resemblance to Miss Winslet. It takes several returns to
decipher which of the lonely hearts is being revealed onscreen. The flashbacks
complement either story, though, as the images of young lovers and blossoming
love speak to the absence felt by Adele and Frank before their encounter.
Reitman's take on Labor
Day is both an unsettling and cathartic take on suburban malaise. His
depiction of the odd surrogate family of Henry, Adele, and Frank takes the
underlying darkness of the tale and moulds it into a look at one's perception
of how one defines success and happiness, for better or for worse, through the
family. It’s the evolution of his cynical black humor one could say. “It’s all
about keeping up appearances,” Frank says, as he binds Adele to a chair and
feeds her dinner—an unusual first date.
Adele’s sense of self, her satisfaction with life
disappeared when her first marriage dissolved, but she finds happiness again by
reconstructing a family to provide the best life she can for her boy. Take one
especially beautiful scene in Labor Day,
both the film and the novel, in which the makeshift family bonds over a collective
baking session of Frank’s mother’s recipe for peach pie. This sequence marks a
turning point for everyone in Labor Day—both
on front of the camera and behind it—as the tension melts with the butter in
the oven and Frank address a rather role. There is a warmth to the scene in
between the winning performances and the gorgeous cinematography by Eric
Steelberg that captures the soft natural light glistening on the peaches. It’s
the sense of belonging that rises to the surface of this scene as Adele and
Henry display their first moment of genuine happiness in the film. The
domesticity of the scene is almost romantic and out sets up the bittersweet tragedy that is
to come. Labor Day easily stands out among the films at this year’s Toronto
International Film Festival. Not only is it sure to be one of the best of the
fest, but the year as well.
Rating: ★★★★★ (out of ★★★★★)
Labor Day screens again Saturday, September 14 at 6:00 pm at Ryerson.
Rating: ★★★★★ (out of ★★★★★)
Labor Day screens again Saturday, September 14 at 6:00 pm at Ryerson.
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| Cast and crew of Labor Day at the film's world premiere |
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| L-r: James Van Der Beek, Gattlin Griffith, Kate Winslet, Tom Lipinski, Jason Reitman |
