The Ballad of Jack and Rose

Where the “Heart” Is

Don’t you hate it when films take themselves so seriously that they become pretentious and in the process lose what they were talking about? It always has to be the good qualities that they lose. In The Ballad of Jack and Rose, a family picture about losing your family, the movie constantly tries to push the emotional ante; it consistently separates Jack (a man with a huge inheritance contracted from his father), and Rose (his daughter who’s been secluded from the rest of the world because of her father’s bidding). The movie’s about the two characters innocence but it wasn’t innocent for me. I became deprived watching the picture.

The movie’s plot is simplified from what an audience is usually used to because Rebecca Miller (the writer and director) wants to show the care-free peacefulness of the land, but that’s not necessarily a good thing in this context. It’s actually a joke because the movie barely gets a chance to breathe a little. The first couple of minutes work because it’s carefree and has weight. Jack completely objects to what’s going on to his land. (It’s not actually his land but that’s okay.) Colonial homes are being built where Jack doesn’t want them and so he says to the builders that if they don’t abide to his rules, he will have to tear the homes down. The film begins with Jack and Rose lying down on the grass of their home without a care in the world except for love.

You realize right away that he’s a domineering father but also that he will never hurt her. You also find out that he’s dying, so free time in effect is precious. Okay, that’s good theater. Then Jack wants to get some revenge. He walks over to a site where a house is being built and orders that all the men get out. While he’s doing this, he gracefully recites to his daughter why he’s doing what he’s doing. He says the builders are destroying the land. Jack then gracefully lands on a piece of wood and lies down in the incomplete house. Okay, that’s good theatre. While these early scenes are going on a Bob Dylan song is being played in the foreground. This movie is obviously in love with Dylan; hey, at least it’s in love.

However, from then on the film is a shambles. It starts out so right; The Unbearable Lightness of Being in bloom—in America. In The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Daniel Day-Lewis’ character Tomas felt abandonment whenever his girl Tereza left him. The movie did blame Tomas but it didn’t hold him in disdain. This film is not that subtle; it’s really not that bright. Whenever a happenstance happens like when Jack’s old girlfriend Kathleen (Catherine Keener) decides to move in with her other children, Rose will not abide and so she decides to get a shotgun out to murder her father. After he saves himself, Jack doesn’t really reprimand her. First of all, I find it ridiculous that she would do something like that in the first place; a young girl who really doesn’t have a problem with what her father does (she doesn’t complain of her shut-in life) suddenly gets up and does this because he’s dating someone other than his former wife. Moreover, the movie says that what she did wasn’t a big deal because she’s a village idiot. It doesn’t blame Jack for not taking her to school, as if this would happen to someone who never went to school. The actress who plays Rose (Camilla Belle) plays the part the way it’s written. Rose will stay the village idiot; an epilogue shows her alive in a rest in peace state.

The movie really is a bore. Rebecca Miller who’s the daughter of Arthur Miller doesn’t have an ear for dialogue; it’s crude prose. This film is a theatre movie (that house is like a stage—let’s get outside). What this movie lacks that Miller’s writing had was that New York quality. All throughout this film, I was thinking about Rebecca Miller and how she’s the type that doesn’t want to admit that she’s religious, but she can’t help herself. Fate causes all the problems in this movie. Jack’s idealism is foolish and the film doesn’t say that what he’s doing is wrong. It gets to a point where I realized that this movie is so foolish that the writer gets the quality she’s striving for: its romantic beautiful.

There is a reason to go see The Ballad of Jack and Rose and that is for Daniel Day Lewis’ performance. I felt like I was constantly being thrust in whenever he came into a scene. I’m glad that Day-Lewis is married to Miller because he’s cast as the domineering father; the dominating character. Daniel Day-Lewis is right at home here and playing an ill person allows him to snuggle up to uninhabited covers (Kathleen leaves him). We truly care for the character he’s playing. Even when Jack becomes ornery, its smooth anger that he’s showing. His Irish accent or voice is gruffer here and not in the least bit hackneyed. Unsettled scenes become fully complete because of Day-Lewis’ dictation and respect. You have the feeling that Jack’s a very nice man which is what this story needs; it’s a folk story about a monster that never wants to let go. Day Lewis plays it so that he’s both harsh and lenient.

The movie is not in the least bit flexible. An actress I liked, by the name of Jena Malone, barely registers on the screen and I don’t know why she was given so little screen time. I would have definitely preferred her playing Rose than the other girl who does. There are only a couple of scenes where this charming actress gets to shine (she was the 17 year old main character in Saved!) and they really are awful scenes. A crucial moment that features all the kids and Day Lewis in a tree house where Rose wants to confront her father about his drug induced past, ends in tragedy when Jack gets so mad that he accidentally pushes one of Katherine’s sons out of the clubhouse and the boy gets seriously injured. It’s a pious tree house. It got me thinking that the mealy mouthed kids besides Jena Malone look very much inferior to Daniel Day-Lewis’ passion. I think I hated the movie in the end because there’s all this beauty in the air, but the audience can never get away from the sadness. Daniel day-Lewis adds to the atmosphere of the movie; happiness keeps breaking into Jack’s life. That’s why he wears the wide grin.

Most actors never deliver their lines the way Daniel Day-Lewis does. There’s true conviction when Jack says to Rose “Don’t you ever say that again.” The scene works because of the actor. A scene towards the end when Jack confronts the project manager of the housing development (a nice part by Beau Bridges) is a truly tragic one. Day-Lewis reminds me of a dying tree and he’s not ostentatious in the least bit, even with all those rings on his wrist and earring in his ear and grey hair. (If you want ostentation, watch Daniel Day-Lewis' performance in that life affirming masterpiece There Will Be Blood. Grand in the wrong sense of that term.). It was the way he looks that kept thrusting me in. When Jack’s body burns at the end of the film, his earring will still be there. It will see everything. Daniel Day-Lewis is omnipresent in this movie—he’s staring over a stale bowel of cereal and in the process getting immersed in it.