INTRODUCING
THE DWIGHTS
By
Jacqueline Monahan
Jacqueline
Monahan is an English tutor for the GEAR UP program at
UNLV. She is also a consultant for Columbia College
Chicago in Adjunct Faculty Affairs.
jaxn8r@msn.com
Part-time comedienne/full-time restaurant worker Jeannie Dwight (Brenda
Blethyn) is not aging gracefully. Well into middle age, with working class
sensibilities and responsibilities, she deludes herself about her chances of
making it big.
Her two devoted sons have wildly different roles in her life. The eldest,
Tim, (Khan Chittendon) has a one-truck moving operation, which is how he
meets future main squeeze, Jill, (Emma Booth) who breaks him in sexually and
supplies a lot of gratuitous flesh-baring for no apparent reason.
Then there’s Mark,
(Richard Wilson) brain-damaged from birth, the sweet ever-dependent
man-child who will never leave her. But in using words like apparently and
wise-cracking timely, insightful witticisms, there are only the requisite
thick glasses and spastic hand movements to remind us of Mark’s condition.
His demeanor nearly negates his character and relegates him to plot device –
the clever provider of timely observations who has license to say anything
while remaining vulnerable.
Uprooted from England to Australia via her marriage to now ex-husband John
(Frankie J. Holden), another fame seeker, Jeannie is losing control of her
sons and is afraid that they too will leave her. They are currently her
captive audience and girls cannot take them away, even though both have
admirers.
John has recorded a CD
of Conway Twitty songs while keeping his night job as a security guard. He
was a one-hit wonder for two weeks in 1975 and keeps coasting on that small
taste of fame while patrolling parking lots. Jeannie’s male companion,
Ronnie, is in show business too, and seems to serve as her enabling yes-man.
These poor fools all feed each other’s dying dreams with denial and alcohol;
in Jeannie’s case there is rage and resentment as well.
Jeannie fills her already busy schedule with coaching child singers,
volunteering at Mark’s workshop, or organizing fundraisers where she will
perform. Her mind must be occupied at all times so that she won’t dwell on
her state of affairs. When she does, it’s with a simmering resentment that
finds its way to her tongue and lashes out at anyone unlucky enough to be
present. Because the actress is exceptional, you are willing to give Jeannie
much more of a pass than she deserves. Boozy and bombastic, it would be very
tiring to walk on eggshells every day like the boys have become accustomed.
You want to like
Jeannie, but she has an alienating mean streak that can rear its head
whenever she feels threatened, cheated or abandoned. That’s pretty much the
length of the film. No one can make the room uncomfortable so quickly or so
scathingly.
The character of Tim is shy and a fumbling virgin, which makes horny
girlfriend Jill seem predatory, demanding sex and getting pissed if she
doesn’t get it. Jill is nothing more than as seductive piece of meat that
gets under Tim’s (and in a different way, Jeannie’s) skin. Mark serves no
purpose other than being Jeannie’s safety blanket and making targeted quips
far above his brain-damaged capability, all this in a voice reminiscent of
Boris Karloff.
Brenda Blethyn is the
zaftig heart and soul of the often drunken Jeannie Dwight, splitting her
personality between humorous standup comic and short order cook. She is the
live wire and all that such energy and ego implies. Unfortunately a lot of
that energy has a negative, somewhat delusional bent and a shrill voice
attached to it.
Tim’s coming of age combined with Jeannie’s mid-life crisis makes for an
intense collision course which gets ugly, hurtful and insulting in the way
only people who love each other can achieve. Bitter Jeannie can shriek or
coo with invective, Blethyn’s trademark.
It’s disappointing when
a female director, here Cherie Nowlan, chooses to go the always unnecessary
route of obligatory female nudity and objectification. Used unconvincingly
to get Tim to finally let go of his virginity, he is never as fully exposed
as Jill in any intimate scene (surprise!). The resolution to this
relationship feels forced and artificial by film’s end. When sex is
highlighted to such a degree, how can real communication take place?
A death is mentioned, but not explained or explored. Pseudo-boyfriend
Ronnie’s role in Jeannie’s life seems included only to add another odd
character in her semi-delusional orbit. Choppy, random editing doesn’t help
matters. The film doesn’t know where it wants to go and we don’t care
because we don’t want to follow.
Of course there’s a
breakthrough and a realization. Whether it’s convincing is another story.
Jeannie can shine on stage, except for the one night it counts. Then she
becomes a two-bit hack for which she blames everyone in sight and crawls
into a bottle. Pointing fingers is an art form the she has mastered
throughout her thwarted career.
Titled Clubland for its release in Australia, Introducing the Dwights is
supposed to be about one woman’s realization of the blessings in her life
while letting go of unrealistic aspirations. Will Jeannie realize that her
children are the greatest of these blessings, not impediments to fame? Will
you buy it?
Though Blethyn is wonderful, the movie is not and she can’t save it. I’d
just as soon refuse the handshake that would introduce me to these folks.
