Mare of Easttown: Jude the Obscure near Philadelphia

Mare of Easttown concluded on HBO last night.  One downer of a mini-series, brilliantly acted, but with resolutions so somber it could have been Jude the Obscure near Philadelphia.

The ultimate resolution left lives broken everywhere.   If they were not literally ended already.  Colin was killed a few episodes back, for reasons barely related to the main murder under investigation.  Even Erin's murder turns out to be something of an accident, rendering it a statement about the insanity of so many guns in this country (which I agree with), rather than the more narratively satisfying result of an evil intention.

And the broken lives are ubiquitous. Julianne Nicholson was just superb in that last episode as Lori, with her beloved son going off to prison.  Even Mare herself, wonderfully played by Kate Winslet, has just a hope of some happiness, as she walks up those stairs to the attic, to perhaps find some peace about her son up in heaven.  It would have much better had the storyline at least left Guy Pearce's Richard in town.

Maybe it says something about my age, but my favorite characters were Mare's mother Helen (great to see Jean Smart), who had an irrepressible sense of humor and a winning penchant for the wise crack, and Chief Carter (first time I've seen John Douglas Thompson), who had a way of injecting calm and reason with his words and his presence, sorely needed in this often, almost always, harrowing story.

I suppose heartbreak is especially pertinent in this year we've just been through off the screen.  When Mare mentions the year everyone has been through in Easttown, she's talking about the deaths and breakups and breakdowns in this fictional world.  But she could just as easily have been talking about the world her viewers have inhabited and tried to live in during the lockdown due to the pandemic and the bashing of democracy by the former President.   In that sense, Mare of Easttown may be perfect viewing for our time, and, like Jude the Obscure, a sad kind of masterpiece.

 

I Know This Much Is True: Much, True, and Worth Watching

My wife and I binged I Know This Much Is True, which ended its six-episode run last night on HBO.  Let me say this about the mini-series for starters:  If you thought Jude the Obscure was a grim narrative, wait until you see I Know This Much Is True.  But do see it.

This is the story of twins, Dominick and Thomas Birdsey.  Neither one is well adjusted.  They don't know who their father is, and their step-father is harsh and abusive.  Thomas, the difficult of the two boys, grows into a schizophrenic as a young man.   He's not a danger to others, but he is a serious danger to himself.

Dominick has to deal with this, after understandably not helping things at all when he was a boy.  In addition, he suffers a life-crushing experience that has nothing to do with Thomas.  This is what I mean about being in Jude the Obscure territory.   One soul-piercing experience is more than enough for most tragic dramas.   Two, unrelated to each other, is, well, over the top or at least a little hard to take.

And Mark Ruffalo's acting as both brothers is so powerfully effective that you have no problem believing all of this is happening.  He deserves an Emmy for best actor.  And speaking of Emmys, so does Rosie O'Donnell, as supporting actress playing social worker Lisa Sheffer.  O'Donnell brings just the right mix toughness and empathy to this role, and along with Ruffalo she'll bring tears to your eyes, if you have anything close to a beating heart.

So see I Know This Much Is True, expertly written and directed by Derek Cianfrance, based on the 1998 novel of the same name by Wally Lamb, which I haven't read and don't intend to because, well, no offence, but Thomas Hardy's 1895-1895 Jude the Obscure was more than enough.