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Love Liza
Other // R // March 28, 2003
List Price: Unknown
Choosing moodiness over storytelling is a risky but admirable attempt in film. Pretension, laziness, over-acting or long, numbing moments of "artistic" silences can plague a movie that either doesn't believe in the strict guidelines of plot or erroneously thinks it can channel the mastery of Godard. But lovely, moving and fascinating movies can also result, peppered with subtle nuances usually left on the cutting room floor of more mainstream fare. But what really helps is a great actor in lead, and in the case of the uber-moody Love Liza, we've got character actor Philip Seymour Hoffman in charge. The chunky talent carries the film on his mushy yet able-bodied shoulders.
Written by Hoffman's brother, Gordy, and directed by first timer Todd Louiso (he was the shy, nerdy Belle and Sebastian loving record store clerk in High Fidelity), Love Liza, though flawed in spots, is worthwhile for its depiction of dysfunction via the first stages of a nervous breakdown. With a catalyst as trite as suicide, the picture nevertheless, eschews trite "finding oneself" speeches or easy attacks of melancholy. Its also quite funny as breakdowns can often be, and utilizes a curious drug addiction (gas huffing) to further its morbid humor. The film suffers from being too fumy at times but fittingly that works with a guy who's passing out in his underwear whilst inhaling gasoline. Maybe we shouldn't know just why he's doing this.
Yet at the same time, we can easily reckon why he's chosen gas. Hoffman plays a graphic designer named Wilson Joel who after his wife's recent suicide, sleeps on the floor, sleeps in his car and laughs too long and hard at office-worker's jokes. He has a strained relationship with a woman we presume he cares about (his wife's mother played by Kathy Bates) that's just getting more and more removed. He can't deal with her demand that he reads the letter from his wife (Liza of the title).
But Wilson can't bring himself to open the suicide letter, choosing to haphazardly carry it around with him wherever he goes. At one point, he almost loses the thing, and as the film ambles along, it just gets dirtier and dirtier. Wilson's personality or life before the suicide is never revealed but we assume people found him an agreeable fellow. One co-worker Maura (Sarah Koskoff) even confesses an attraction, but Wilson can't handle the feeling and leaves her sitting at the zoo (a funny scene in that people never really know what kind of activity is correct for grieving people: How about the zoo?). Another employer sends computer equipment to his house for motivation, but everything remains in boxes. At this point, Wilson's already begun his odd diversion of huffing gas fumes.
A cheap, dangerous high that usually attracts pre-teens (we see some young teenagers trying to steal gas from the station Wilson frequents), his predilection only makes sense if we assume his wife killed herself in the car, which is heavily suggested. Getting closer to her death and a good way to lose himself, he passes out, often in hallways next to jugs of gasoline. It's also a high that, if you're doing at home, someone may catch wind of. It smells. Maura suspects something when dropping by and after inquiring about the odor, Wilson lies, fibbing that he's building model airplanes. Enthused that Wilson found a hobby, Maura, funnily, sends her equally strange brother (though we don't know what his problem is) Denny (Jack Kehler) over to encourage Wilson.
The picture takes an interesting turn here when homebound Wilson embarks on a road trip with remote control boat hobbyist Denny and the two attend a race of similar enthusiasts. A strange environment for Wilson, we wonder if he's really enjoying himself. In his spaced out way, he could be morbidly laughing at the absurdity of this pilgrimage. After all, he really just wants to huff the gas.
From this excursion we learn that Denny is a nice person, but not simplistically so. Neither overly sympathetic nor cold towards Wilson (he's touched in the head himself) he covers for his friend when after an inappropriate act during the boat races he reminds people (rather gruffly) that Wilson's wife just died. Denny may be blunt, but he's not taking him to the zoo, which seems a refreshing change for Wilson. Or maybe he's not even paying any attention. With Love Liza, we can never be sure.
Which is what makes the film both frustrating and admirable. We want more, but contemplate further and feel thankful we're given less. We think the film has no reason to exist outside of Hoffman and then remember the interesting supporting players. We wonder why a guy would be huffing gas, even if for symbolic reasons, but then appreciate a film that shows gas huffing abuse as the protagonist's drug of choice. We certainly wouldn't feel better if he was sucking down alcohol or shooting heroin. We've got enough dipsomaniacs and junkies extolling their miserable problems in film-land. At least now we've learned a little about gas abuse, or appreciated a film showing what kind of high it provides. Facetiously (and like other addictions) its not terribly glamorous.
And of course there's Hoffman, who's created a more distinctively distant character in Wilson. Hoffman specializes in "weird" roles, but here he has a direct and sympathetic reason to act bizarre, using his big body, low pitched, and sometimes groaning voice with an offbeat delicacy. Though Love Lizafeels a bit insular, Hoffman gives it a good reason to. His character is truly imploding.
Read More Kim Morgan at her blog Sunset Gun
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