'Capturing Mary' is an excellent, original, brilliant, Jungian, existentialist, feminist film.
It opens with a labyrinthine stunning maze, photographed in calming, light Edwardian blue and white, which is revealed as a photograph at first then reveals itself to be the winding staircase in the massive, old, British establishment home that is Upstairs or "Outer Success" in the Upstairs Downstairs of the British class system.
The duality of the image: static photograph, then a moving, frustrating labyrinth makes this Opening Image stand up and announce what kind of film you will be seeing: a film about ancient institutions of power through which you will move in frustration trying to decide whether to attack or submit to in personal and professional ways. A Hamlet of a choice.
The breathtaking labyrinth has a dark side: the winding, claustrophobic corridors of the 'cellar' resonate Roman catacombs, Nell's path to King Charles under Windsor castle, escape routes by ancient lords and kings in underground tunnels of Country Houses, and of course, the daily trek by kitchen skivvies....Mary, us, people of the Third Estate, commoners. What resonates is the message "you are lost in the underworld; subjugated by walls too ancient to navigate...you haven't the key,...(a Jungian image which appears in Greville's hand in the film)... you haven't the noble status."
This message is the Belly of the Whale in Joseph Campbell's Hero's Adventure: in which the feudal relationship captures our heroine, Mary. Will she get out of the cellar, the kitchen, the draw to the handsome prince? Will she maintain her pursuit of the life of the mind?
The Jungian education you need to understand the script further shows itself in the question: is Greville real? Is Mary's drinking a plot point designed to hide the fact Greville is unreal? Greville can ruin your career, equally, by existing in a young defiant female journalist's head. If Mary chooses to write about the underbelly of her hosts' lives, won't she lose the weekend party invitations to large country houses? What a disaster for a girl who worked so hard to lose her Mancusian birth accent.
Mary's sharp rebuke to the lovely, modern Joe is the thesis: "Don't be impatient with me, Joe." Indeed I say this to Simon and all young people watching it. It is an atavistic trait in young people to strike out and change things, say things, do things. But if one is patient, one sees, that outer success, in the Upstairs world has too great a price.
Spoiler alert: the film is a valentine to women of a certain age. That Mary never succumbs is the triumph of the story, a feat almost impossible, one imagines, knowing how Katherine Hepburn fell to Howard Hughes, Clare Luce to Mr. Booth, etcetera. The mysterious Greville is handsome, discreet, immensely powerful in publishing.
Women over 50 will certainly welcome a film which beautifully, and seriously appreciates the efforts to adhere to her life of the mind that Mary makes. It is a welcome feat in a film world in which Lara Croft and Mrs. Smith use automatic weapons and the heels of their boots to smash open doors and behave rather like men. The simplicity of Mary's integrity, on the other hand, is a more accessible and beautiful role model of empowerment for women who wish to both have successful lives of the mind, and who wish to observe the world rather than make massive mistakes that previous generations of women felt forced to make.
Certainly the weeping and drinking on the park bench are her lowest points. Life is not a fairy tale as Hollywood dictates. But the next day, Mary sits in a dignified way, reading an intelligent book, sitting in a dignified position at her post in view of the inexorable Kensington Gardens. For those of us old enough to remember Princess Diana, this choice by the director of KG, rather than, say, St. James Park, is poignant. Diana's tragedy being similar to The Duchess' bears a remarkable counterpoint to our hero, Mary, who succeeded simply by saying no.
Succeeded? I see your scepticism and I raise you two: first, Mary is not, at the end of her life, someone's bit on the side, or even someone's wife. Rather, she retains her name, her thoughts, her memories, and retains the right to NOT write a book about Greville, thus the act of saying NO to the establishment, which would use her talent to illuminate theirs, is an act of empowerment in a Woolfian way. Don't forget the title is Capturing Mary. She remains free, unlike Diana, and the Duchess, and Liza, the pathetic pretty wife of Greville, forced to sit up from 5 in the morning in the 'House', waiting to give a come-on letter to her man's "prospect," her rival.
Secondly, Mary succeeds by finding Joe, her alter-ego. That she will not be rescued by the good man, Joe, is her last triumph. In a way, Joe is her animus. The film asks if rescue is triumph at all.
One can't help asking oneself at the end: was Mary even real? Has Mary only existed in the head of a black young male caretaker excluded from participation in the establishment, but welcomed by them to sweep it after hours? Was Mary just Joe's anima?
In a world where the teenage boy is the major purchaser of box office tickets, and writers are told to write at them, the writer has flown in the face of The Establishment. Box office success be damned. He has succeeded beautifully.
It opens with a labyrinthine stunning maze, photographed in calming, light Edwardian blue and white, which is revealed as a photograph at first then reveals itself to be the winding staircase in the massive, old, British establishment home that is Upstairs or "Outer Success" in the Upstairs Downstairs of the British class system.
The duality of the image: static photograph, then a moving, frustrating labyrinth makes this Opening Image stand up and announce what kind of film you will be seeing: a film about ancient institutions of power through which you will move in frustration trying to decide whether to attack or submit to in personal and professional ways. A Hamlet of a choice.
The breathtaking labyrinth has a dark side: the winding, claustrophobic corridors of the 'cellar' resonate Roman catacombs, Nell's path to King Charles under Windsor castle, escape routes by ancient lords and kings in underground tunnels of Country Houses, and of course, the daily trek by kitchen skivvies....Mary, us, people of the Third Estate, commoners. What resonates is the message "you are lost in the underworld; subjugated by walls too ancient to navigate...you haven't the key,...(a Jungian image which appears in Greville's hand in the film)... you haven't the noble status."
This message is the Belly of the Whale in Joseph Campbell's Hero's Adventure: in which the feudal relationship captures our heroine, Mary. Will she get out of the cellar, the kitchen, the draw to the handsome prince? Will she maintain her pursuit of the life of the mind?
The Jungian education you need to understand the script further shows itself in the question: is Greville real? Is Mary's drinking a plot point designed to hide the fact Greville is unreal? Greville can ruin your career, equally, by existing in a young defiant female journalist's head. If Mary chooses to write about the underbelly of her hosts' lives, won't she lose the weekend party invitations to large country houses? What a disaster for a girl who worked so hard to lose her Mancusian birth accent.
Mary's sharp rebuke to the lovely, modern Joe is the thesis: "Don't be impatient with me, Joe." Indeed I say this to Simon and all young people watching it. It is an atavistic trait in young people to strike out and change things, say things, do things. But if one is patient, one sees, that outer success, in the Upstairs world has too great a price.
Spoiler alert: the film is a valentine to women of a certain age. That Mary never succumbs is the triumph of the story, a feat almost impossible, one imagines, knowing how Katherine Hepburn fell to Howard Hughes, Clare Luce to Mr. Booth, etcetera. The mysterious Greville is handsome, discreet, immensely powerful in publishing.
Women over 50 will certainly welcome a film which beautifully, and seriously appreciates the efforts to adhere to her life of the mind that Mary makes. It is a welcome feat in a film world in which Lara Croft and Mrs. Smith use automatic weapons and the heels of their boots to smash open doors and behave rather like men. The simplicity of Mary's integrity, on the other hand, is a more accessible and beautiful role model of empowerment for women who wish to both have successful lives of the mind, and who wish to observe the world rather than make massive mistakes that previous generations of women felt forced to make.
Certainly the weeping and drinking on the park bench are her lowest points. Life is not a fairy tale as Hollywood dictates. But the next day, Mary sits in a dignified way, reading an intelligent book, sitting in a dignified position at her post in view of the inexorable Kensington Gardens. For those of us old enough to remember Princess Diana, this choice by the director of KG, rather than, say, St. James Park, is poignant. Diana's tragedy being similar to The Duchess' bears a remarkable counterpoint to our hero, Mary, who succeeded simply by saying no.
Succeeded? I see your scepticism and I raise you two: first, Mary is not, at the end of her life, someone's bit on the side, or even someone's wife. Rather, she retains her name, her thoughts, her memories, and retains the right to NOT write a book about Greville, thus the act of saying NO to the establishment, which would use her talent to illuminate theirs, is an act of empowerment in a Woolfian way. Don't forget the title is Capturing Mary. She remains free, unlike Diana, and the Duchess, and Liza, the pathetic pretty wife of Greville, forced to sit up from 5 in the morning in the 'House', waiting to give a come-on letter to her man's "prospect," her rival.
Secondly, Mary succeeds by finding Joe, her alter-ego. That she will not be rescued by the good man, Joe, is her last triumph. In a way, Joe is her animus. The film asks if rescue is triumph at all.
One can't help asking oneself at the end: was Mary even real? Has Mary only existed in the head of a black young male caretaker excluded from participation in the establishment, but welcomed by them to sweep it after hours? Was Mary just Joe's anima?
In a world where the teenage boy is the major purchaser of box office tickets, and writers are told to write at them, the writer has flown in the face of The Establishment. Box office success be damned. He has succeeded beautifully.