"Dr. Matu spent three years studying the components of ice cream. The results are quite frightening. Plastic. That's what it is, basically. Plastic." Wow, with the rise of microplastics in our food, perhaps this film was prophetic.
The Plumber was tough to fully appreciate, in part because the title character is so outlandish and yet given such latitude. Something more restrained and subtle would have worked more for me. The husband's inaction is almost as maddening as the plumber's campaign of psychological terror. She tells her husband she thinks the plumber saw her changing; he asks no questions. He sees their bathroom absurdly destroyed when there was never a plumbing issue to begin with; he blithely goes off to work the next day. She tells him she's frightened; he says it's a bad time to call and to have her friend over.
I think a part of that was showing just how much a woman being victimized might lack agency, as everyone just kind of sloughs her off. To me that's what the film was best at showing. Still, I also wished she took more control, either leaving, calling the plumber's boss or the police, or demanding someone stay with her. How it plays out is too exaggerated and cartoonish.
There is a certain satisfaction in her ultimately turning the tables, but it's conflicting in how she goes about it. Perhaps that was the point, and along the lines of all the class commentary this film is said to have. Had the plumber just been an ordinary guy struggling to make repairs and had all of these assumptions made about him, I could have understood the praise in that regard. Maybe Peter Weir was making negative comments about both the intelligentsia, dispassionately studying indigenous people almost as if they were animals, the husband only snapping to attention when the expensive watch has gone missing, and blue-collar workers, lacking class and civility. If so, I don't think the plumber portrayal worked, and maybe that's where it fell short for me. It's reasonably entertaining though, and wisely only 77 minutes long.
The Plumber was tough to fully appreciate, in part because the title character is so outlandish and yet given such latitude. Something more restrained and subtle would have worked more for me. The husband's inaction is almost as maddening as the plumber's campaign of psychological terror. She tells her husband she thinks the plumber saw her changing; he asks no questions. He sees their bathroom absurdly destroyed when there was never a plumbing issue to begin with; he blithely goes off to work the next day. She tells him she's frightened; he says it's a bad time to call and to have her friend over.
I think a part of that was showing just how much a woman being victimized might lack agency, as everyone just kind of sloughs her off. To me that's what the film was best at showing. Still, I also wished she took more control, either leaving, calling the plumber's boss or the police, or demanding someone stay with her. How it plays out is too exaggerated and cartoonish.
There is a certain satisfaction in her ultimately turning the tables, but it's conflicting in how she goes about it. Perhaps that was the point, and along the lines of all the class commentary this film is said to have. Had the plumber just been an ordinary guy struggling to make repairs and had all of these assumptions made about him, I could have understood the praise in that regard. Maybe Peter Weir was making negative comments about both the intelligentsia, dispassionately studying indigenous people almost as if they were animals, the husband only snapping to attention when the expensive watch has gone missing, and blue-collar workers, lacking class and civility. If so, I don't think the plumber portrayal worked, and maybe that's where it fell short for me. It's reasonably entertaining though, and wisely only 77 minutes long.