Meryl Streep

She-Devil

Ricki and the Flash

Greetings sweet readers and quick-passersby of this blog, I hope July is treating you well so far. While I considered watching some kind of patriotic double feature tonight, I’m just not feeling it this year, or any year really, so I’m instead dedicating a double feature to one of the finest actors America has to offer. This week we’re paying homage to an actress and artist whom I, and many people, regard to be one of the greatest to ever do it: Meryl Streep. One of the very first films I watched on this blog, Spike Jonze’s Adaptation, gave me an even greater appreciation of the depth of her talent and I’ve been wanting to devote a night to her ever since. Streep just celebrated her 75th birthday on June 22nd, and it just felt correct to have the bookends (kind of) of my Pride Month double features be Cher and Meryl Streep (who, once again I must mention played mother and daughter in Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again!, even though they’re only three [3] years apart in age.) Though acting and singing in plays her whole life, it was during her undergrad at Vassar University where Meryl really fell in love with performing. A professor of hers remarked, “I don’t think anyone ever taught Meryl acting. She really taught herself.” Which makes sense to this critic and longtime Meryl fan, as I’ve witnessed her inhabit such diverse and demanding characters and people on film with ease, and without going to the Daniel Day-Lewis or Joaquin Phoenix school of method acting. I’ve been watching Meryl in movies my whole life, like many of us, but I’ve never seen her repeat the same tricks or apply the same nuances or mannerisms to any two roles. She just feels natural, innate, effortlessly but undeniably born into each performance. While appearing in many plays throughout her young adulthood, she eventually found her way onto the big screen—with one of her very first major film roles in Kramer vs. Kramer earning her a Golden Globe and an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. Despite her rise to prominence at this point in her career, Meryl stated that she didn’t understand all of the hype she was garnering, and was very tough on herself as an actress and as an object of desire. Like so many beautiful, talented, successful women, she had equal amounts of negativity and positivity thrown at her burgeoning career, and often talked down on herself. Though she’s been nominated numerous times, Streep has a humble three Oscars to her name, and has made some of the most interesting career choices of any accomplished actress—appearing in just as highly-acclaimed, serious films as she has starred in silly, random, bizarre films. She has such a vast collection of film and television credits to her name that I was a bit intimidated to narrow it down to just two films, so I attempted to highlight a classic and a lesser-known gem. This brings us to tonight’s lineup of Meryl Streep features, which are both fairly random blips in her prestigious and illustrious resume, but were nonetheless instantly-significant to this critic. I wanted to begin with a campy film that Meryl did early on in her career, that would lead her to star in similarly-campy but more beloved films like Death Becomes Her and The Devil Wear Prada, and this is Susan Seidelman’s 1989 film She-Devil. She-Devil is proof that femme-centric cinema has always strived to expose and condemn the patriarchy’s stifling expectations of women, while often just participating in them, but we’ve come a long way. Where we haven’t improved is with opening title sequences—they just don’t make them technicolor and fun like they used to. A loose adaptation of the Fay Weldon’s 1983 novel of the same name, She-Devil (sort of) follows frumpy but devoted wife Ruth (Roseanne Barr, on the cusp of her television show airing) who works hard to please her hardworking accountant of a husband Bob (Ed Begley Jr., at his hottest) and their two children. We are shown a bevy of beautiful women and girls all getting dolled up at the mall, being donned in gorgeous clothing and vibrant makeup for their evenings ahead, and among the perfume and hairspray in the air we see poor, aesthetically-underprivileged Ruth. They really worked to make Roseanne extra ugly in this (which I only say comfortably because she’s gone a bit insane and racist), affixing a comically-large mole to her face, making her eyebrows bushy, and putting her in appallingly-atrocious clothing. Ruth tries to find something new to wear in this glamorous dressing room, which still feels like hell—I do not fear hell because I, too, have tried on clothes in a dressing room. Her husband Bob is taking her to a fancy company party in NYC, though he hardly cares as much as she does, and it’s at this party that Ruth and Bob bump into Mary Fisher (Meryl), a best-selling romance novelist and elegant, rich, high-pitched voiced damsel. While Ruth goes to replenish the drink she spilled on Mary’s pink powder puff of an evening gown, Bob and Mary hit it off instantly, as Bob buys in perfectly to Mary’s old-fashioned, helpless feminine style of woo-ing. Before Ruth can even return to her husband, Bob is comfortably within the seductive clutches of Mary, who beckons Bob to her lavish, luxurious mansion by the sea. Occupying the frustrating perspective of a hardened and scorned housewife, Ruth is well-aware that Bob is cheating on her, but plans to be patient and win him back. After some stressful hijinks that stem from Ruth’s quietly-boiling distress, that include her accidentally cooking her son’s gerbil when Bob’s parents are over for supper, Bob walks out on Ruth, saying “You’re not even a woman, you’re a she-devil!” before waltzing happily into the arms of his rich, radiant mistress by the sea. A storm is brewing outside and inside the plain and desperate Ruth, who creates a list of Bob’s self-prescribed assets—home, family, career, and freedom—and crafts a plan of devilish proportions to destroy his life. Ruth simply begins her scheme by setting her house on fire, and sending the children and their dirty mutt of a dog right to the gargantuan mansion of Mary Fisher. Bob is furious and says, “The children belong at home, with their mother” to which Ruth replies, “There is no home. It’s gone. Ashes.” Mary speeds off in a taxi and continues on with her plan, each segment becoming more convoluted, brutal, and bitchy than the last. It was pretty satisfying to this Scorpio to see a revenge for revenge sake plot, but I also would've loved for Roseanne’s character to be afforded more than just a smug smile at the end of her complicated retribution. I’m satisfied if Ruth is satisfied, I suppose, but after all of her very hard work to undermine the success and happiness of her husband and his mistress, I do feel like she deserved more. I guess I should just be happy that the film didn’t dwell on Ruth’s inferior looks for too long or force her to undergo some kind of makeover—the costume design and makeup artistry in this film was all exclusively reserved for Meryl, who wore some of the most dazzling outfits I’ve ever seen. Her Barbie dream house of mansion was also just fun to look at, and I thoroughly enjoyed her bitchy comedic performance, as well as Ed Begley Jr.’s (who normally plays a nice guy) bitchy performance. These two really got to have all of the fun here—even though Ruth is relentlessly plotting their demise, they both remained blindingly-confident and hilariously arrogant, and they both added a lot of life to this somewhat tired premise. After being known for roles in Holocaust dramas like Sophie’s Choice and eco-horrors like Silkwood, many critics and audiences didn’t think Streep was capable of delivering a comedic performance. But, per usual, Meryl absolutely smashed this performance, became a natural comedienne, and even won a Golden Globe for her role in She-Devil. I think it is actually because of and not in spite of her experience acting in dramas that she was able to play a funny role, for no one else could display the raw, visceral pain and disappointment Meryl does when she breaks a nail as Mary Fisher. No one could’ve earnestly and playfully played conniving like Meryl, and to me, as imperfect as She-Devil was, it was the first film to showcase Streep’s genuine ability to play any part. While it may have made more narrative sense to center Ruth, and not Mary, Ruth is still a strong heroine here—opening a job agency and helping other discarded and under-appreciated women (one of whom was played by Grandma from Nora from Queens / Mei from Orange is the New Black) find jobs all while she’s enacting her revenge. While hopelessly goofy and not always coherent, She-Devil was the exact kind of campy, outrageous fun that I live for and struggle to find in this day and age. Nowadays, I feel that the best place to find innovative and authentically-quirky cinema is within the realm of independent film, where tonight’s next feature comes from. Jonathan Demme’s last film, Ricki and the Flash, seemed very odd but intriguing back when I saw the trailers in 2015, and was but a budding appreciator of film. Seven years prior, Streep had proven her musical prowess in her iconic turn in Mamma Mia!, and I found it a bit peculiar that she would then take on the role of an aging wannabe rockstar, who sings more like Bruce Springsteen than ABBA. Several many years passed, but I would still think of this perplexing-seeming film from time-to-time, particularly its theatrical tagline, which was just simply, “Get Ready for Ricki.” Meryl was donned in the most bonkers, hate-crime-of-a-hairdo ever—part braided, part overly-parted—and all while wearing less-than-fashionable leather attire, and I felt like I would be let down by this movie. Then I found out it was written by one of my favorites, Diablo Cody, and directed by one of my favorites, Jonathan Demme, and was starring eternal-hottie Rick Springfield as Meryl’s lover and bandmate, and my curiosity finally reached its peak and I said, “fuck it, let’s watch this weird shit.” And boy, am I glad that I did. Ricki and the Flash is partly based on Diablo Cody’s kooky mother-in-law, and it is also partly based on events that actually took place in Streep’s daughter Mamie’s life. Meryl stars as the titular Ricki, of Ricki and the Flash, the resident band at a rundown honky tonk bar somewhere in LA, where she plays alongside the still-hot Greg (Rick Springfield) and the cheering on of her bartender friend, Daniel (nepo baby Ben Platt who’s daddy did produce this movie.) The film opens with the band playing American Girl by Tom Petty, all but confirming Demme’s obsession with this song, since he also prominently features it in The Silence of the Lambs. I was instantly-charmed by this band of middle-aged rockers, who attempt to reach audiences young and old by covering songs like Bad Romance by Lady Gaga and Let’s Get it Started by P!nk. What I wasn’t charmed by, was the choice to make Ricki a republican who explicitly hates Obama, and doesn’t speak of the family she left behind, until she receives a call from her ex-husband, Pete (my beloved bday buddy, Kevin Kline.) After working a shift at her day job as a cashier at a grocery store, Ricki answers a call from Pete, who says that their daughter, Julie (played by Meryl’s actual daughter, Mamie Gummer), has just been dumped by her husband and she needs help. Ricki rushes back home to Indianapolis, where she can barely afford the taxi drive to her ex-husbands large home. Julie is deeply depressed amid her divorce and is not happy to see the mother who abandoned her and her siblings many years ago, calmly stating, “Couldn’t make it to the wedding but here just in time for the divorce!” Some moments that were unimportant to the story but significantly funny to this viewer were when Ricki’s family roasted her fashion sense, with Pete shadily remarking, “I can see you still put in the effort” and Julie asking, “Do you still dress like a hooker from Night Court?” which made me feel slightly less insane as I observed Ricki’s bewildering style. Everyone but the family dog is hesitant to be kind to Ricki, who they always knew as Linda, before she got drunk on ambition and dipped out, and rightfully so. But Ricki and the Flash displayed the complexities that come from growing older and not letting go of a dream, which is not a new story per se, but found new life in this film, with Diablo Cody’s unique vocabulary and perspective. Ricki’s sons, Joshua and Adam (played by Sebastian Stan and Nick Westrate), are also not happy to see their mother, as Adam remarks loudly out at dinner one night, “She costumes herself as an edgy punk rocker cool mom at the PTA meeting, but she voted for George W. Bush twice.” Later on, we see that Ricki also has a ginormous back tattoo of an American flag and a Come and Take It snake, just to hammer the conservatism home. Again, an odd, but not uninteresting characterization. Odd but also interesting were Meryl’s choices to make Ricki such a strong-willed softie with such a deep, throaty laugh and singing voice—as if she were doing an impression of Pierce Brosnan’s “singing” in Mamma Mia… Her family gives her a hard time, but eventually warms up to her once again, partly with the help of Pete’s new wife Maureen (Audra McDonald), who kindly took Ricki’s place as the mother of these kids when she left. As strange and cold as this family seemed at first, I was kind of obsessed with Ricki and Pete’s depressed adult children, who all were uniquely fucked up due to their mom’s disappearance. I especially loved when Ricki, Pete, and Julie all smoke weed together, and listen to the one and only album that Ricki and her band ever recorded, it felt surreal yet totally plausible and correct. What also felt correct were the flower crowns at Sebastian Stan’s wedding, the very-2015 use of the phrase “cray-cray”, and the fact that Meryl once again gets to make out with the hottest dudes, in nearly every role. Ricki and the Flash was exactly what I wanted it to be—a wild, weird, a little rough around the edges but still super sweet depiction of a complicated family unit that finds their way back to each other—and I thought it was lovely. Mamie Gummer was also left by her husband after a year and a half of marriage in real life, so I can only imagine how cathartic this highly-specific role was to play, especially alongside her superstar of a mom. Though a bit messy and puzzling, Ricki and the Flash was the exact brand of bitter but sincerely sweet that I’ve come to expect from Diablo Cody, and I thoroughly enjoyed the surprisingly deep ride it took me on. The music was fun, even the original songs were pretty good, and although Meryl wasn’t singing in her normal, musically-pleasant voice, she sang with just as much passion and energy that she always does. I loved both of tonight’s films, not in spite of their odd narrative and acting choices, but because of them. Meryl made both of these extremely different characters her own, just as she always does, and made both films more memorable just with her iconic presence. Thank you for reading along this week, my fellow Americans and appreciators of Meryl Streep. Stay cool, stay rad, stay Ricki.