Igby Goes Down

melodrama-a drama such as a play, film, or television program, characterized by exaggerated emotions, stereotypical characters, and interpersonal conflicts

melodrama on steroids-see "Igby Goes Down"

"Igby Goes Down" is a perfect example of the pitfalls of melodrama. This film may have worthwhile things to say about the aimlessness of youth or the emptiness and hypocrisy bred by capitalism. But in making these points, it uses a jackhammer where a flyswatter would suffice.

Igby is a 17-year-old professional smartass who specializes in getting kicked out of the expensive boarding schools to which his heartless mother sends him. With a schizophrenic father and an utterly superficial brother, he has little emotional support or guidance.

The film follows a similar vein to "The Graduate" and "Garden State," portraying the frustrations of a young man who just can't seem to care about the things people keep telling him are so important. But while those films were ridiculous at times (they had to be in order to point out their characters' hypocrisy), they stayed grounded enough that their critiques had to be taken seriously.

Thus, the protagonist of "Garden State" struggles to feel anything inside because his father insists he continue to take lithium. Igby, in contrast, witnesses his father angrily hurl pills at his mother, who greedily consumes one while throwing guilty looks at her sons.

Likewise, "The Graduate" pokes fun at capitalism through an older man who urges our hero to invest in "plastics." "Igby Goes Down" goes a bit more extreme, with a one-dimensional character named D.H. who cares about absolutely nothing except making money and keeping up appearances.

Oh, and I did I mention Igby's mother tells him that D.H. is his real father as she cheerily consumes a poison to commit suicide? This sort of thing happens every day among the fabulously wealthy, I'm sure.

The film is further undermined by its endlessly snide tone. We're treated to dozens of verbal jousts such as this:

"Jeez, you would think you hate your brother."
"I do."

"Igby Goes Down" seems to find the notion of hating one's relatives shocking. Even if it were, it doesn't astound quite as much when you pack your film with jokes about it. This line came about an hour in; by this point I already knew what Igby's punchline would be. My dog Chester could probably have figured it out too.

The film's conclusion tries and fails to show some emotional growth in Igby. He sobs "Sorry..." to his dead mother following her suicide. Yet the very next scene shows him calling her friends to giddily announce her death. He then embraces his brother, accidentally smashing his drink-a clumsy symbol of how they will never be close. Finally, Igby visits the man he thought was his father. Yet he has always felt close to this man, mainly because he believes that he himself will one day suffer a nervous breakdown. Far from demonstrating a desire to reach out to loved ones, Igby's intimacy here merely satisfies his delusions of martyrdom.

The real problem is that this is a film which, like its hero, thinks it's great. But with its hyperbole and too-hip dialogue, it wholly lacks the earnestness necessary to deal with its themes on a serious level.

Yi Yi

Modern cinematography is defined by quick cuts and copious close-ups designed to cater to our ever-shrinking attention spans. One of the problems with this approach is that it fails to give us a sense of place, a feel for how the characters interact with their environment.

Fortunately, there are still some filmmakers willing to pull the camera back and give their characters some space. Edward Yang's urban family drama "Yi Yi" perfectly illustrates the rewards of this approach. Yang lets us watch his players from a distance, paradoxically demonstrating both the claustrophobia and vastness of city life. In one scene, we see a young couple arguing while also viewing the street and park below. In another, the camera looks into a room as a woman sobs, while also showing us the reflection of the imposing city skyline off the windowpane. These characters are painfully packed in like sardines, yet their conflicts seem miniscule in the context of a sprawling city.

"Yi Yi" takes us through a turbulent year in the life of a Taiwanese family. At the center of the tale is NJ, an executive struggling to prop up a failing business while also rediscovering his passion for an old flame. His wife, Min-Min, is undergoing a spiritual conversion, while his children, son Yang-Yang and daughter Ting-Ting, struggle through the hormones and hassles of growing up. Min-Min's brother Ah-Di dreams big but can't get keep his finances or his marriage together, while her mother has gone into a coma.

Got all that? These characters obviously have a lot of emotional baggage, which leads to many poignant moments, as when Min-Min weeps to her unconscious mother over the depressingly dull routine of her life. Their various quests-for love, money, God, wisdom-lead them to a deeper understanding of both the joys and shortcomings of life. Like the characters of "Yi Yi," the viewer will need patience, but the results are quite rewarding.