Yap vs. Yap: The Descendants

Oscar nominations are just around the corner, and the buzz for Alexander Payne's latest drama, "The Descendants," is growing louder and louder. This week, Joe Shearer and Sam Watermeier discuss whether a volume adjustment is in order.

Sam: Sometimes, living in this age of trailers and reviews can be a disadvantage. Such marketing and hype often strips films of their ability to surprise. To me, “The Descendants” is one of those victims. And ironically, the film is all about surprises, from the main character's wife falling into a coma to the revelation that she was unfaithful to him, and much more. But by the time I saw the film, I was so familiar with, or hyper-aware of, its story, tone and how it was supposed to make me feel that when the emotional moments came up, I was left cold. Perhaps that was fitting considering the characters, too, are often left with nothing but a sense of inevitability. I can't blame my reaction entirely on the hype surrounding the film, though. I think I would have found the movie predictable anyway, and I'll elaborate later, but many critics, including you, Joe, were jolted by the film, so I'm curious: What surprised you?

Joe: I'd disagree that the film is about surprises; yes, Matt (George Clooney) is surprised at his wife's sudden condition and that she was unfaithful to him. But it's more about Matt coping with his failures as a husband and father. It's also about him being too preoccupied with his career and the ancestral land for which he is the trustee, and his decision as to whether he should sell — and, for all intents and purposes, ruin — this land that's been in his family for generations.

More than anything, I found "The Descendants" to be about the needs of being a husband and a father — and how ceasing to be one of those makes being the other all the more important. Matt suddenly had to pick up the things his wife did — things he largely ignored, like caring for the children — in addition to the things he usually does.

I'd agree that there wasn't much that was surprising, but I'd argue that, narratively speaking, there isn't supposed to be. The wife's death, we know from the start, is inevitable, and it's that waiting, and what happens in that space of time, that's important.

Things that did surprise me, though, were characters who seemed to be in the background popping out for a run: Sid (Nick Krause), becoming more than the comedic relief, had a tremendous scene with Clooney, and Judy Greer absolutely owned a vital scene. Robert Forster had a couple of great moments as well.

Sam: I found the metaphorical connection between his wife and the ancestral land painfully obvious. The scene that embodies its skin-deep nature is the one in which Matt stares at the land solemnly and says, "Everything has its time" — a simplistic declaration of finality that, like much of the film, falls flat.

The film is full of broad, vaguely interesting ideas that never take shape. For instance, take the opening narration in which Matt speaks of the harsh realities under the sunny, seemingly happy surface of places like his home of Hawaii. This truth he exposes is, like the film itself, initially provocative but ultimately obvious and forgettable.

What did stay with me, though, was Matt's open anger at his wife, his revelation that she often made his life harder. Unfortunately, his feelings towards her are wrapped up too neatly in the end when he refers to her as his "joy and pain." But perhaps that is the only way to describe how he feels about her, as simplistic as it may seem.

In regard to the supporting players, the scene you mentioned between Clooney and Krause is definitely interesting, and it's one of the few moments that genuinely surprised me. When Krause reveals that his father is dead, I expected Clooney's character to utter a statement of sympathy, but he simply stares, as if startled, like the viewers, by the tender humanity and vulnerability beneath this character's abrasive exterior. I guess that is the one moment in which Matt's statement about sorrow lurking beneath the surface takes shape.

Joe: I would agree that some of those metaphors are less than subtle (the "joy and pain" line is certainly a cliche), but it was the family dynamic that impressed me most.

In some ways the movie itself is about the ultimate cliche — that of a middle-aged man realizing that he is a failure in life. In Matt's case, his wife was unfaithful, one daughter is locked up at a special "school" because she's out of control and the other is on the way to maladjustment herself. It's the Forster character who, after spending most of his time onscreen lambasting Matt for not being good enough, rams this one home when he points out the irony that Matt's coming into this incredible fortune just too late to take care of his wife with it. For middle-aged white males, it's the ultimate nightmare — that your entire life's work, everything, means nothing.

I mentioned the performances earlier, but I want to mention again how universally good they are. Clooney is reliably strong, Greer, as I mentioned, nailed one scene in particular, and Alexander Payne even got a good, if small, performance out of Matthew Lillard of all people.

But it was the girls who really hit a home run. When I initially heard that Shailene Woodley was in this movie, I cringed. I knew her because my wife watches "The Secret Life of the American Teenager," a horrific show centered around teen pregnancy, aimed at teenaged girls, where every character repeats the word "sex" over and over. (I'm not joking; I once counted in a preview for an upcoming episode; in the 30-second promo, they said "sex" seven times. IN 30 SECONDS.) Woodley, like everyone else from Molly Ringwald to the guy who played Bobby Baccala in "The Sopranos," is TERRIBLE. But Woodley was tremendous in this film, and Amara Miller (as the younger daughter) acquitted herself very well too. Her best moment occurs in the slow-motion, music-swelled scene where there's no dialogue. She was really great.

Sam: I think you're right that the movie is sort of about a cliche, but I think it could have been addressed more explicitly. In terms of Alexander Payne's other films, "Sideways" is a more direct address of a cliche, commenting on Peter Pan Syndrome through Thomas Haden Church's character. I felt like "The Descendants" was indulging in cliche rather than commenting on it.

I must admit, though, that you're making me like this movie a lot more, especially in regard to the performances. I initially thought Clooney was phoning it in, giving a solid but unremarkable performance. Now, I can't remember seeing him play a more vulnerable character. And you're right about the girls, especially Woodley.

Damnit, Joe, you're swaying me over to your side!

Joe: And don't forget in "Sideways" that Paul Giamatti as the whiny, tortured writer is a cliche as well, right down to quoting other writers.

There was perhaps a little indulgence, as you say, but there was enough there that wasn't to lift it above. For instance, the scene where Clooney turns on the charm and kisses Greer's character goodbye was terrific. He was so tired and morose up to that point, but he was pissed that this guy had been banging his wife, and even more pissed at the cavalier attitude he had about her, and it brought out that old Clooney sparkle in his eye at that moment and he enacted a little threat of his own.

It was Clooney, but it was also the character — once a dynamite charmer, now having settled into life and forgotten about impressing his wife. That's something I've learned in my last decade or so as a husband. From adolescence on, men work hard to snare the mate, to make them feel special and appreciated. But once they've hooked them, it's like "finding my soulmate" is just another checkmark on the bucket list. We forget about maintenance (if you'll forgive that crude metaphor) and keeping that other person happy just because we are happy ourselves. That was Matt's biggest problem and, indeed, the biggest problem any husband has: We forget to appreciate our wives, and there are plenty of other guys all too happy to appreciate them for us.

It was an awesome character moment, not to mention the bond that entire episode helped him forge with his daughter, who was also fully immersed in finding the scumbag who'd been defiling her mother.

That's what Payne does for me; he gets past the cliche and finds what's behind it. It's only a cliche when it rings false. But here, for me, Payne digs into it, and the end result is it helps schlubs like me who have watched movies about snaring a mate my entire life: Rarely do movies tell you how to keep one.

Sam: Damn, that's beautiful, man.

I can't say I related to the film on that level, but I did connect to other aspects, such as illness in the family and the helplessness it evokes. That's what I like about this story — it crosses generations. While the subject matter of Payne's other films is super-specific and largely aimed at the middle-aged male psyche, "The Descendants" feels more universal.

But with all of his films, Payne achieves a fly-on-the-wall intimacy with his subjects and ultimately makes their feelings and worlds our own. In that sense, perhaps my reaction to "The Descendants" was one of human recognition rather than a sign of mere predictability.

Joe: So, sounds like you're converted! I'll admit this isn't my favorite of Alexander Payne's films. It may be his worst film (though I still would say I prefer it to, say, "About Schmidt"), but it's still very strong, makes a statement and is full of under-the-surface emotion while it retains Payne's signature biting wit. It's certainly, from a weak year for film, one of the tops and should net multiple Oscar nominations this year.