It may be too early to call "Can You Ever Forgive Me?" the film of the year, but I can tell you, it is a contender. But I can say, with certainty, that Melissa McCarthy delivers the performance of the year, in the role of literary forger, Lee Israel. The only other performances that come close--and they were not shown in theatres--was the feminine trifecta of Amy Adams, Patricia Clarkson, and Eliza Scanlen, in "Sharp Objects."
Last week, I wrote a post of my own, on the real Lee Israel, and my being on her periphery. In a way, I am too close to the subject to view it objectively, and there are many things the film does not get right. But let me start with what it does.
Look at Melissa McCarthy's face. Here, and in so many moments, she catches the desperation of the free-lancer, the hanger on of wannabe success, and the loneliness of being a lone creative artist in the still often seamy Manhattan of the 1990's. One commentator called this story a "New Grubb Street" (a novel by George Gissing, about those on the same fringes, a century before, in 1891) for the 21st Century. Having read said novel, I would have to agree.
Melissa may not look ethnic, Jewish, or have the New York, Brooklynese twang of Lee--and why she did not perfect this is one problem I have--but what she conveys is the loneliness of a spinster lesbian, clearly not comfortable in her own skin, using abrasiveness and stand-offish-ness, as a defense mechanism, to keep people away. The best scene in the entire movie, and I don't know how accurate it is to Lee, is a scene between McCarthy and Anna Deavere Smith. Smith plays an ex of Lee's, named Elaine. Apparently, the relationship got contentious, then impossible, due to Lee's drinking, personality, and her dependence on Elaine to consistently keep, to borrow a phrase from the film, "talking her off the ledge." This parallels a story I heard about someone I knew, who is a lesbian, of a similar personality type, who had the exact same problem. So, in many ways, this film connects with me, as it mirrors so many aspects having surrounded my life.
These include Julius', the city's oldest gay bar, and seeing those types, like Jack Hock, hanging out there, whether they were talking to Lee, or not. Library research is another area Lee and I crossed paths, especially, as I said before, during the time I worked at the Library Of Performing Arts, at Lincoln Center, where Lee was often a frequent patron and abductor.
The film gets so much right, it is sad it does not get all. Lee's cluttered, filth ridden apartment was on a par with her, as was her pilfering a coat and shrimp at a literary party. But when I have listened to people connected to the film, the message they seem to convey is that they want audiences to love Lee, and feel sorry for her. Audiences at the screening David and I went to clearly did. If I were not so close to the subject, it would not bother me. But it does.
Lee would not have wanted anyone's pity or sympathy. I would love to hear from those better acquainted with Lee, to tell me things like, was there ever a real Elaine? Because the Lee I observed never seemed able to get that close to anyone.
Plus, as a non-conformist and bona fide New York character, Lee was a mess, visually, socially, and hygienically. More than her personality drove folks away from her.
The only time I felt sorry for her, and McCarthy plays it for all it is worth, was when her cat, Jersey, dies. The scene where she clutches the dead animal to her in one last, loving embrace, is the only time I felt genuinely sorry for her, and may have been, in reality, the only bit of humanity Lee ever showed.
The film also recalls the New York of another era, the kind of thing Woody Allen once did so well. I have to wonder what this film might have been like, had he gotten his hands on it. I recall that time, barely 30 years ago, so well. Now, it seems the Manhattan today, the one I came to as a youth, has all but vanished. So, I have to wonder how much of Lee Israel is there in me, in all of us. During the time I observed her at Julius', I would either read, or write in my journal, an act, which, I could not have known, would foreshadow my blog. At my lowest periods of self esteem during this time, I saw myself as a Lee Israel type. Fortunately, as emotionally desperate as I might have been, then, I was together enough to keep myself going financially, and practically, and never once did I think of doing what Lee did. Fame may never kiss me, but if it did not come to me honestly, then I was fine with that. I could live with it. And still do.
All these thoughts and memories passed through my head, as I watched this film. McCarthy's husband, Ben Falcone, is terrific, and so is Dolly Wells, Stephen Spinella, Jane Curtin (whose bitchy handling of Lee is made clear in the entire scene's context), and, even Richard E. Grant, who does an excellent job, but whom I found annoying. A gay man of the 90's, in New York, who did not know who Fanny Brice or Marlene (Dietrich!) was? Come on; are you kidding me??????????????
I am not familiar with Marielle Heller, best known for "The Diary Of A Teenage Girl" (2015), which I did not see, but her mastery of film locales and actors is clearly displayed. And it looks like she is guiding Melissa McCarthy not only to an Oscar, but other critics' awards.
Still, because of my proximity, it bothers me this is how Lee Israel will be remembered. The movie is a study of loneliness in New York, loneliness of the arts seekers, and those who blend, unnoticed, in the general populace. The film had me looking more, at those around me, walking about, and I am sure it will do so, for others.
But I just can't help thinking there was more to Lee, than this.
I suppose, now, I'll never know.
See the film, and read the book. I intend to do the latter, but I may even visit for a second viewing.
It has been ages since a film made me do that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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