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In the Bedroom
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USA, 2001. Rated R. 136 minutes.
Cast:
Tom Wilkinson, Sissy Spacek, Marisa Tomei, Nick Stahl, William Mapother,
William Wise, Celia Weston, Karen Allen, Frank T. Wells, W. Clapham Murray,
Justin Ashforth
Writers: Todd Field and Robert Festinger, based on the short story
"Killings" by Andre Dubus
Music: Thomas Newman
Cinematographer: Antonio Calvache
Producers: Todd Field, Ross Katz, Graham Leader
Director: Todd Field
LINKS
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Note: This analysis discusses the story in full, including
the ending, and therefore contains spoilers. It is intended for readers
who have already seen the film.
he best
drama of 2001, In the Bedroom, packs an emotional punch that by the end
leaves you reeling…if you have the patience for it. Based on a short story by
Andre Dubus called "Killings," the movie's interest is not in the killings per
se, but in how the characters get to the killings and the killings' effects
on the survivors. To emphasize this focus, many major plot developments occur
off-camera, including the precise moment of the first shooting and the scene
in which Matt Fowler (Tom Wilkinson) informs his wife Ruth (Sissy Spacek) that
their son Frank (Nick Stahl) has been killed. First-time director Todd Field
shows only Matt standing in the hall outside the rehearsal room, where Ruth
teaches music, wordlessly working up the courage to go in and shatter his wife's
world.
Because In the Bedroom can be mistaken for just a languid portrait of
the stages of grief, the revenge killing at the end could, upon casual observation,
seem inconsistent in tone with the rest of the film. It isn't. In the Bedroom
is a film of superlative detail--detail that, if you pay attention to it, shows
that the story ends up where it does because there is no other place for it
to go. There is a sense of inevitability to the ending, just as there is with
the first killing.
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The Big Picture
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| Alison |
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| Carlo |
A
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| Jeff |
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| ratings explained |
In the case of most real life tragedies, there are usually several contributing
factors that form an explosive mix just waiting for the right catalyst. Frank's
murder by Richard (William Mapother), the first killing, is no different. The
most obvious factor--other than Richard being a violent, abusive asshole--is
Natalie Strout's (Marisa Tomei) inability to defuse a situation whose obvious
danger she willfully ignores. She won't break things off with Frank and is unwilling
to avail herself of any legal means to keep Richard away. The fact that she
married Richard in the first place is itself a monument to her lack of good
judgment.
There are other contributing factors as well. As a father, Matt has failed
to set boundaries for his still-teenaged son. Matt is indulgent of Frank's affair
with a much older not-yet-divorced mother of two--he won't confront his son
or question his behavior. After Frank's death, Ruth seethes with suppressed
rage at Matt's permissiveness and Natalie's selfishness, but she's not absolved
of responsibility. Overcompensating for Matt's hands-off style, Ruth is too
controlling. Her relationship with Frank is strained. On some level, carrying
on with Natalie gives Frank the satisfaction of spiting his mother.
A prominent feature of In the Bedroom is its lack of verbal communication.
Silent anguish permeates the film. Matt and Ruth avoid discussing their pain
and fail to provide each other the emotional support necessary to put the tragedy
behind them. Finally, the recriminations burst out in one of the most natural
marital arguments ever seen on film. Matt and Ruth hurl cutting accusations
at each other. None of them are entirely unfounded, but all are hurtful in the
extreme.
Matt and Ruth's failure to process their grief makes the second killing inevitable.
When Richard, out on bail, begins to appear around town and it looks like he
might spend only five years in jail for manslaughter, Ruth finds it too much
to bear. 
Her
need for vengeance becomes more pronounced, as does Matt's. They have failed
to take any actions, such as actually sharing their feelings, that might have
begun to cleanse them of their grief and anger; therefore, they have too many
bottled-up painful feelings needing an outlet. That outlet becomes an act of
revenge. Murdering their son's killer becomes necessary to continue living.
The patience of the film is, in part, why the ending works so well. In the
Bedroom is so assured, so well written, that you completely understand how
Matt experiences the world. You understand how, from his point of view, Matt
has no choice but to kill. His wife is emotionally manipulating him into taking
action, and it's obvious that neither of them will ever be able to return to
any semblance of normalcy without a desperate act of closure. Field's achievement
is that he wraps you up so tightly in Matt's psychology that you never step
outside of him and say, "Wait, this is vigilante justice; what a load of dangerous
crap!" Matt's revenge is dangerous vigilante justice, but the film makes
you feel as if, in his situation, you might do the exact same thing.
Of course, Field is not advocating vigilante justice. He's not advocating much
of anything. He's telling a story, and in the process, he paints a finely detailed
portrait of how grief and anger can fester, coloring your entire world. There
is a scene that symbolizes how Matt and Ruth are dealing with their grief: the
moment when Ruth takes a container of food out of her refrigerator, sniffs it
to discover that it smells foul, and puts it back inside instead of throwing
it out. If Field is advocating anything, it is to be aware of your feelings
and not shut them away if they're too painful, because they can destroy you.
At the end, Matt's removal of the bandage from his finger to find that his
cut has scabbed over may signify that his emotional wound has also scabbed over.
Killing their son's killer could allow Matt and Ruth to do what they could not
do on their own--get over their son's death. If so, it comes with a price, as
Matt's demeanor and expression in the final scenes makes clear. Matt has to
live with the knowledge that he has murdered, and that some part of himself
is no better than Richard.
Matt must also live in fear of someday being discovered. Being caught seems
unlikely, thanks to the participation of Matt's friend Willis (William Wise),
with whom Matt shares an intimate bond that goes back decades. 
Field
declines to show us the scene where Willis agrees, or perhaps offers, to help
Matt, but his participation is believable because Field has taken time to establish
the longstanding nature of their friendship. In one of the film's ironies, Matt
and Willis don't need to talk much to understand each other perfectly, a quality
Matt and Ruth's relationship lacks. Although the two friends have planned the
murder well, Matt would be the most logical suspect if the police come to suspect
foul play.
The film's central metaphor is its title. As it turns out, the titular bedroom
is not a bedroom at all, but the interior of a lobster trap. In an early scene,
Matt explains how the trap can only accommodate one or two lobsters. Once a
third lobster gets in, the lobsters tend to hack each other to pieces. In the
case of both killings, three is a destructive number. The three must become
two. Richard kills Frank because he can't stand for Natalie to share her life
with another man. Matt kills Richard because he and Ruth cannot go on existing
in a world in which Richard also exists. Matt and Ruth's desire for revenge
is natural, but their need for it goes beyond that natural desire. They are
stuck in an emotional trap of their own making, and believe that killing Richard
can free them. The trouble with this scenario is that, even if one of the lobsters
dies, the other two are still stuck in the trap. Matt and Ruth's catharsis may
prove illusory. Field doesn't reveal what happens next, though, leaving it up
to viewers to decide whether Matt and Ruth have earned an uneasy tranquility.
In the Bedroom is a moving and powerful emotional profile superior to
two other recent, patient low-budget dramas similarly drenched in sorrow and
pain--Lantana and Monster's Ball. In the latter two films, characters
also wrestle with grief and emptiness. They are both first-rate films, but they
each contain a handful of contrivances that introduce a hint of falsity. By
contrast, In the Bedroom is truthful in every detail. It is in those
details that the beauty of the film lies.
Review
© January 2002 by AboutFilm.Com and the author.
Images © 2001 Miramax Film Corp. All Rights Reserved.
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