Happiness. (R; 1998; Philip Seymour Hoffman, Laura Flynn Boyle). Well, I don’t remember much from 1998, but I’m sure this wasn’t the feel-good movie of the year. Don’t be deceived by the title. No one in this movie is happy. Why? Well, because you have a group of miserable, self-loathing people: a prank-calling pervert, a pedophile, a flakey loser still living in her parents house, the parents, who are splitting up, an overweight, insecure murderer and several other fun-loving individuals.
This movie featured very painful dialogue and accurate depictions of people in society masking dirty secrets. The one thing that is lacking here is why these people are the way they are. I know, I know; I ask that a lot. And yes, I know; that’s the beauty of independent films – something totally appreciated by me. Perhaps in this instance it’s not important to know how they got to be this way; only that they are this way. But regardless you find yourself feeling somewhat sorry for them, wishing you could see that one painful thing that kept them from experiencing what they search for, non-stop: Happiness.
See this if you liked: Secretary, May