Preserving What’s Already Lost: 'Wildlife' (2018)

(Carey Mulligan and Jake Gyllenhaal in 'Wildlife')

“You see, people like to come in here to remember something good that’s happening in their lives. They wanna make that happy moment permanent. That way, they can keep it forever” - The Photographer (John Walpole) in Wildlife

Wildlife, Paul Dano’s tremendous directorial debut, is very much about looking, in particular, the troubling conflict between what we want to see and what we actually see. The film is set in a small town in Montana, surrounded by vistas of great plains, mountains and woodland: the sublime American landscape. The year is 1960; JFK has just become the 35th president of the United States, the US has sent its first troops to Vietnam and, in our cultural memory, the nation is transitioning from the age of affluence to the age of rebellion. Although American society did not just dramatically change the moment the 60s began, there was a progressive shift in ideals and values that destabilised previous notions of family, sex, and identity. In the film, there is a massive wildfire raging just outside this small town, threatening to not only radically alter the landscape, but also the lives of our characters. It is against this backdrop then that 15 year-old Joe Brinson (Ed Oxenbould) helplessly watches the disintegration of his parent’s relationship and the destruction of their nuclear family.

We are guided through the film by the perspective of Joe. With a sense of tense foreboding, we spend a lot of the film looking in at the conversations, actions, and decisions of the adults from a close yet detached distance. This is expertly achieved through Dano and Diego Garcia’s (cinematographer) decision to shoot many of these scenes with a shallow focus and using POV shots, creating a sense of isolation and helplessness. Joe, and us, are anxious voyeurs, love detectives, constantly trying to analyse the body language of their parents and the fragments and tones of their conversations. There is something wrong, but it is not clear what yet.

When Jerry (Jake Gyllyenhaal) loses his job, and then refuses to take it when he is offered it back, a great friction is created. As Jerry becomes reclusive, depressed, and resorts to drinking, Jeanette (Carey Mulligan) steps up to keep things stable by getting a job and by putting on a strong front of normality to Joe. But, this crumbles when Jerry decides to take a low-paid job as a firefighter helping to contain the wildfires that rage in the distance. This means moving away and essentially abandoning the family, although one can sympathise with Jerry for he is a mentally ill man living in a time where he is unable to be vulnerable and open. As a consequence, Jeanette is left to pick up the pieces, something which she understandably struggles to forgive him for. All the while Joe watches in the distance, struggling to find a way to glue it all back together and preserve the idea of the nuclear family that has already disintegrated. Much like the wildfire that threatens to destroy the town, the whole family is struggling to contain untameable forces of nature within themselves, whether that’s Jeanette’s yearn for freedom and sexual satisfaction, or Jerry’s immense anger at his inability to be the man he is expected to be. For Joe it is the tragic truth that his parents are flawed and that his previous idea of a harmonious, happy family is dead.

One of the greatest strengths of this brilliantly complex study of family is Carey Mulligan’s performance. She has shone many times before, whether that’s been her poignant portrayal of Daisy Buchanan in The Great Gatsby (Baz Lurhmann, 2013) or her scene stealing moments (pretty much every scene that she is in) in Inside Llewyn Davis (Coen Bros, 2013). But, for me, her incredible ability as an actor has never been so clear as in Wildlife. Jeanette begins the film as a smiling housewife with little agency. There is a subtle artificiality to this achieved by Mulligan as; paradoxically, her smile is sad. There is a hint of discontent, of emotions, thoughts and desires unspoken, all while playing the role of dutiful wife and mother. However, when Jerry recedes into himself and shuns the world, Jeanette responds to the challenge with confidence and conviction, becoming the breadwinner. Furthermore, when Jerry abandons the family, she essentially has to become both mother and father. With the weight of this responsibility thrust upon her, and her feelings of irrelevance, she rebels against the family unit through acts of infidelity that threaten to destroy it. At the same time, she is single-handedly providing for Joe and trying to make a better life for the both of them. Balancing these two contradictions effortlessly, Mulligan’s performance is both convincing and utterly mesmerising.

As the film draws to a close, we are brought back to what the family portrait photographer said to Joe earlier on in the movie, that people come to his place because “...they wanna make that happy moment permanent. That way, they can keep it forever”. At this point Jeanette and Jerry are separated, their family dynamic transformed forever. But Joe, working as the photographer’s assistant, wants to take a family portrait of the three of them. It is a sad and sweet idea, but one that his divided parents obey. It is not some desperate attempt by Joe to get them back together, but more of a cathartic act that allows him to preserve what has been lost. This is the essence of photography, a snapshot of a time and moment that can never be repeated but, paradoxically, can be preserved. Like memories, they preserve the past, and it is the memory of a previous family life that Joe’s photo preserves. It is true that not all was perfect when they were together, and I think Joe is very much aware of that. However, there were many moments of genuine happiness and harmony in that household, and they all need to be reminded of that so that their past does not become a haunting obsession that revolves around regret, bitterness, and melancholy, but a surprising source of warmth, wisdom, and acceptance.