Mag, et al,
Reading Ebert's reviews, I'm no longer surprised by his enthusiastic
"thumbs up" to "Million Dollar Baby" and "The Sea Inside." Phrases like
"... Heather Rose, who also stars in it-even though she has cerebral
palsy, and communicates through a computer and a speaking machine" and
"...young woman trapped in a wheelchair by cerebral palsy...." and "we
identify more with her than with the 'normals' (emphasis added)in the
story." Every one of these phrases, and the over all tone of the
reviews you included in your post tell us that Ebert is just glad that
he (or any of his family or friends) isn't "a cerebral palsy victim."
One wonders if Ebert wasn't able to, as Evan Williams suggested,
"...identify with her." "It is a difficult feat to bring off; and
because we are forced to get close to Julia - in a sense to become her -
many will find this good and brave film more than they can bear." Many
in the US film industry seem to have said that disability, in whatever
form, is "more than they can bear." Ebert's second review of the film
states: "It is the kind of film where the human will and
spirit overwhelm you." I wonder if Ebert was overwhelmed to the extent
that he was unable to see the person using the wheelchair and
communication board.
Kendall Corbett
An unreasonable man (but my wife says that's redundant!)
The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one
persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all
progress depends on the unreasonable man.
-George Bernard Shaw 1856-1950
-----Original Message-----
From: Tamar Raine [mailto:[log in to unmask]]
Sent: Tuesday, June 14, 2005 3:02 PM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Re: film info wanted please
here are a number of reviews! Just did a search.
Dance Me to My Song
By Roger Ebert
From the Telluride Film Festival:
Another much-discussed film, but this one with a happy ending, is Rolf
de
Heer's "Dance Me to My Song," an extraordinary Australian work that was
written by Heather Rose, who also stars in it-even though she has
cerebral
palsy, and communicates through a computer and a speaking machine. As
the
film opens, she's at the mercy of a stupid and cruel "care giver" who
neglects and insults her. Using her motorized wheelchair and her lively
intelligence, she tries to figure a way out of her dilemma. In the
opening
shot, the heroine seems hopeless and alien. By the end, we identify more
with her than with the normals in the story.
From the Hawaii Film Festival:
by Roger Ebert
"Dance Me to My Song" takes place in Australia, and tells the story of a
young woman trapped in a wheelchair by cerebral palsy, and trapped
psychologically by a cruel, manipulative caregiver. During a time of
excruciating frustration, she wages war against all of the barriers
around
her, and succeeds, amazingly, in attracting a lover. The film stars
Heather
Rose, who also wrote it, and who plays, as she must, a cerebral palsy
victim much like herself. It is the kind of film where the human will
and
spirit overwhelm you. It was directed by Rolf de Heer.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
Dance Me to My Song
by Evan Williams
The Australian
AUDIENCES in Adelaide have been accorded the modest privilege of being
allowed to see Dance Me To My Song a week before the rest of us; they
should seize the opportunity. Financed by the South Australian Film
Corporation, Rolf de Heer's marvellous film was shot in Adelaide, as
were
his other successes The Quiet Room and Bad Boy Bubby. The Quiet Room and
Dance Me To My Song were selected for competition in Cannes.
Heather Rose, the cerebral palsy sufferer who stars in Dance Me To My
Song,
was in Cannes for this year's screening, and I can still see her on the
steps of the Palais, cradled in the arms of her co-star John Brumpton,
beaming to the crowd and looking terrific in a blue satin number with
off-the-shoulder neckline. A more genuinely warm and delighted reception
from that notoriously cynical crowd is difficult to recall; and it
wasn't
just the Australians who were cheering.
Later I wondered if the image of that ecstatic moment had coloured my
opinion of the film, but I needn't have worried. At a second viewing in
Sydney it looked as brave and exhilarating as ever, possessing all the
passion of Shine with none of the phoniness and pretension. But its
weaknesses could be seen more clearly. Surely no professional carer
could
be as diabolically unfeeling as the ghastly Madelaine (played by Joey
Kennedy), and yes, there are times when the story is hard to believe -
though this may simply mean that the unbelievable is more wonderful when
it
happens.
Rose (who collaborated on the screenplay with de Heer and Frederick
Stahl)
plays Julia, a young woman confined to a wheelchair at her home in an
Adelaide suburb, dependent on an electronic voice-box and visits from
her
carer, who comes each day to feed and clean her. Anyone squeamish about
the
details of these attentions will be sorely tested in the opening scenes.
Arriving late and flustered for a morning call, Madelaine discovers
Julia
distressed on her bed, briskly feels her for wetness, mutters her relief
on
finding her dry ("Thank Christ"), hauls her to the toilet, shovels baby
mush into a well-smeared and protesting face ("I wish you could eat like
a
normal person instead of a bloody animal"), and promptly flounces off.
In the evenings, it is Madelaine's habit to make herself comfortable in
Julia's house, to which a boyfriend is occasionally admitted; as a
special
treat, Julia's wheelchair is positioned near the bedroom door so she can
observe the lovemaking ("you can watch, but you have to shut up"). That
Julia hungers for love and companionship in these surroundings is hardly
surprising; what is surprising is the way she goes about finding it.
Eddie appears one day in the street, a passer-by - cool, unassertively
good
looking, with a nonchalant and taciturn humour. Julia, on the footpath,
blocks his way with her wheelchair. There's some dodging about and a
cautious exchange of glances; Julia heads him off again. At first this
behaviour seems more perverse than flirtatious, but Eddie is persuaded -
he
is curious, after all - to follow her into the house. Conversation via
synthesiser is marked by some playful banter; Eddie, too, finds himself
saddled with toilet duties, and the mood is the opposite of romantic.
But
the development of this unlikely friendship, its fitful and prankish
progress towards genuine attachment and mutual respect, is the central
miracle of the film. And what follows is largely predictable - Eddie's
seduction, the jealous and uncomprehending fury of Madelaine's reaction,
her determination to get Eddie for herself. The outcome will come as no
surprise to viewers of inspirational movies, but de Heer preserves the
freshness and integrity of his subject matter with a steely control,
leading us to a truly exultant final scene.
As Eddie, Brumpton manages to suggest that he is driven by something
more
than pity or natural tender-heartedness. It is in some ways the most
difficult part in the film. But Rose is the shining centre of the story;
there is mischief in those looks, an impish greed in her love for Eddie
that gives a kind of playfulness to those painfully contorted movements.
Her eyes speak for her: the few pitiful syllables coaxed from her
computer
are more like subtitles for the audience than words for Eddie. A
repeated
grunting - sometimes more of a snarl - punctuates her exertions. It's a
sound so rhythmic and primal that I wondered if it was Rose's natural
voice
or a sound effect - like the sinister collage of humming and throbbing
David Lynch used for The Elephant Man. Yet in Julia even these minimal
sounds take on a natural expressiveness.
The weaknesses lie in the other characters - a Madelaine too hateful to
be
believed (mainly the fault of the writing) and a lesbian chum with a
heart
of gold (Rena Owen), the only seriously sentimental touch in the film.
With Dance Me To My Song, de Heer has broken new ground for the familiar
"disability" picture. He has reversed the normal perspective of the
viewer.
In most of these films - Gil Brierley's Annie's Coming Out is the best
comparison - it is the carer's viewpoint that matters: Will Angela Punch
McGregor break through to Annie's cloistered disabled soul? In de Heer's
film we see the story through Julia's eyes. It is Julia who is
struggling
to break through, to reach the world beyond herself. And not without
some
wonder and embarrassment, we identify with her. It is a difficult feat
to
bring off; and because we are forced to get close to Julia - in a sense
to
become her - many will find this good and brave film more than they can
bear. But stay with it to the end: the rewards are rich indeed.
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