|
 Burt
and Verona are two young chicks who haven’t quite left the nest yet.
Yes, they’re in their thirties and living on their own, but within
yelling distance of Burt’s parents, which will be mighty handy for them
when the little bundle who’s turned up as a surprise to the couple is
born. A small wrench is thrown into the portrait of prenatal bliss when
the grandparents-to-be impulsively decide to run off to live in Europe,
missing the birth of their grandchild and taking away any help the first
time parents might need. Having no reason to stay in the shabby little
house they moved into to be closer to Burt’s family, the pair reassesses
their situation and decides to seek out a true home of their own;
somewhere they want to live and make a family for their baby while it’s
still just the two of them. Calling on friends and relatives across the
country and Canada, Verona and Burt see various examples of motherhood
and relationships that range from the tender and supportive, to the
terrifying and strange. It is somewhere in these snapshots of domestic
life that Verona and Burt will sort out exactly the kind of family they
want to build around their baby.
Above
all its road movie trappings, Away We Go is first and foremost a love
story. Sam Mendes’ most personal film is an adoring Hallmark card
to mothers and young love everywhere. He captures the shock of
outsiders being thrust into some bizarre family dynamics; the carelessly
abusive stridency of Verona’s outrageous former boss’ family, where the
parents are loud and vulgar and don’t speak to their children except to
humiliate them. The insufferably pompous new age mom treats her
children as gods and observes no structural boundaries, no matter how
inappropriate; looking down on parents too primitive to follow her
overbearing example. Their Canadian friends, Tom and Munch, who live
like a pair of Old Mother Hubbards, in a passel of adopted children of
all races and ages, whose real devotion to their tribe can’t erase the
pain of not being able to sire a child of their own. Burt’s brother,
Courtney is knocked sideways when he suddenly finds himself a single
father after his wife abruptly abandons him and their little girl.
There are also the couple’s own frailties to face; Verona’s refusal to
make an honest man out of Burt, and her own unresolved issues with her
younger, more settled sister and their parents’ death. Every new stop,
for better or worse, helps the expectant parents decide the home and the
life they want to provide for their own child.
Heartwarming, insightful, and truly funny, Away We Go is an utter gem.
Each vignette works well on its own and their arrangement makes the most
of broader moments while bolstering up the more heart wrenching scenes.
At the center are Burt and Verona, who, like so many other young folks
these days, simply don’t know what they want. They’ve reached their
thirties, the years when they believe they should have been settled down
ages ago, and this unexpected new addition to their tightly-drawn
nucleus forces them to take a critical look at the rest of their lives.
Much
of the charm of Away We Go is derived from its fantastic cast. As the
thoughtful, sanguine Verona, Maya Rudolph is absolutely luminescent.
Overwhelmed at the thought of bringing a life into the world, she’s a
study in maternal doubt and worry, edged with the determination to find
the best path. As her babydaddy, John Krasinski is adorable as the
shaggy, adoring Burt, optimistic and hilariously supportive, his
misgivings have more to do with what their relationship as a couple will
be than in being parents. Rudolph and Krasinski together are naturally
charming and wonderful and I could have watched their travels for
hours. As their first stop on this pre-natal road trip, Alison Janney
is a bawdy hoot as the outrageous Lily, taking her discomfort at
settling down and raising a family out on her husband, kids and anyone
within shouting distance. Catherine O’Hara and Jeff Daniels are a riot
as Burt’s parents, who suddenly opt for selfishness over grandparent’s
duties; moving thousands of miles away from their adult kids, leaving
them anchorless in the midst of their first pregnancy. Maggie
Gyllenhaal is fabulously slap-worthy as LN (née: Ellen), the
pretentious new age mother who practically faints into the vapors when
Burt and Verona thoughtfully buy a stroller for her kids. Apparently,
thought of “pushing away” her babies is anathema to the arrogant,
superior supermom, who shares her bed with both her small children and
her lover with no need to censor their adult needs. Melanie Lynsky is
mesmerising as the heartbroken Munch, who despite being at the center of
a loving home full of adopted kids, cannot fill the void of an empty
womb. Her sensuous pole dance at a bar’s amateur night achingly reveals
the vitality and useless youth of a woman who simply cannot give birth
and so desperately yearns to.
This
is one road trip that made me so sad when it was over. I simply wanted
to keep following this wonderfully written couple all the way into the
birthing chair. Mendes’ leaves us with a light, wistful note that does
satisfy and brings together the real point of Burt and Verona’s journey;
not just to find a new place to live, but to find a real home and
themselves. They discover that both of these are sometimes found in the
last place you look and how good it feels to know you really can go home
again.
Really
lovely, this.
~ The
Lady Miz Diva
June 4th,
2009
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