In the 20th century, radio programs—quickly augmented and then supplanted by movies—were national communal experiences that brought Americans together. Then TV came into the home and changed everything, slowly eroding that past time.
Now in the 21st century, the shared movie going experience (the shared anything public experience for that matter) has become the exception rather than the rule. The Internet age has led to a new type of communal gathering in which momentous and inane events alike are "shared" online—fragmented into segments, interrupted by distracting live commentary as they're happening and, ironically, oftentimes viewed alone, physically apart from others.
Concurrently, social media has become the world's largest pacifier in which your 2,643 Facebook friends and 547 Twitter followers are ready to pat you on the back for simply getting out of bed successfully, let alone accomplishing anything that requires an ounce of effort beyond typing, or hitting the "return" key or "upload photo" button. Our thoughts on every subject are at the ready, and we opine like mad no matter the subject (or our knowledge level). Pictures of family, pets, personal occasions of every kind and, especially, oneself ("look at my new haircut!") are fodder for continued immediate emotional sustenance. Personal tragedies, too, are now routinely shared online. Grief, shame, loss, financial setbacks—nothing, it seems, is held back.
Thanks in a large part to the Internet and social media, we're beset with physical alienation, short attention spans, a constant need for validation (narcissism is rife) and a major case of defensiveness about our faults (real and imagined). This mass vulnerability daily collides with the oftentimes overwhelmingly snarky, mean culture we live in at the same time—led by the anonymous online comment—where it's not just the lethal level of the nasty wisecrack that matters, it's the speed with which it's delivered. Lagging behind whatever happened to change the zeitgeist 10 seconds ago, falling behind and, worse, not embracing the latest perceived technical marvel ("How old is your cell phone?!") is collectively thought to be not just crazy, but an act of sedition and at the very least, spite.
What's going on here, folks?
That's the general area Andrew Stern attempts to explore in his screenplay (his first) for Disconnect, a movie that focuses on three of the most potentially anxiety-producing, psychologically devastating areas of the Internet—social media, identity theft and online porn. Helmed by documentary filmmaker Henry-Alex Rubin, making his narrative feature debut and starring a group of heavyweight actors (Jason Bateman leads the cast), Disconnect gets under your skin at the outset—feeling you with unease about what's to follow.
The three stories, which eventually intersect, are based on real-life incidents and present worst-case scenarios. Bateman plays a hard-working corporate attorney, welded to his cell phone, who doesn't take much notice of his wife (Hope Davis), teenage daughter or son. The son, Ben, is a male version of the social misfit played by Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club—the kid who hides behind his bangs; dresses in baggy, dark clothes; and expresses his yearning through creativity. (Ben writes music on his computer.) Two young bullies at school concoct a phony online profile of a pretty girl who begins to send Ben texts and online messages. Eventually, they upload a randomly chosen female nude photo minus the face, and goad Ben into taking a similar picture and sending it back. Of course, these two punks immediately publicly share it with the entire school online.
Meanwhile, Mike Dixon (Frank Grillo), the father of one of the bullies and a private investigator, is hired by Cindy and Derek (Paula Patton, Alexander Skarsgard), a young couple who have been the victims of identity theft. After going through the couple's hard drive, Mike identifies a probable suspect, and Cindy and Derek—whose marriage is in free fall since the death of their infant son—decide to confront the man and get proof that he stole from them.
The third story follows Nina (Andrea Riseborough), a young TV reporter eager to make the leap to national television. She thinks a story on underage, online sex workers will do the trick. After several encounters with the sexy Kyle (Max Thieriot), she uses unethical means to convince him to give her the address of the house in which he and several other teen runaways of both sexes have been sheltered by their "friend" (played with oily finesse by fashion designer Marc Jacobs).
Stern's screenplay touches a nerve—the audience is nodding their heads at the outset of each of the stories and Rubin's excellent cast perfectly embody these familiar, everyday characters whose lives are suddenly upended because they've innocently (or not quite so) reaped the potential disaster that is awaiting at just the touch of a misguided click online. But he pushes each of the situations—especially the identity-theft scenario—into the melodramatic, thriller realm that is obviously heightened for dramatic purposes. In doing so, this cautionary tale loses a great deal of its punch and potential for lasting impact given its hot subject matter. And there are both logical and tonal gaps in Stern's script and Rubin's pacing which—ironically—are distractive and throw one out of the picture as it chugs along.
But Disconnect, like Crash, does offer something irresistible to audiences—the chance to engage in a lot of discussion about the up to the moment social problems it attempts to explore. Further irony: No doubt social media will be utilized by people having a cup of coffee at the local diner following a screening of the movie.
Film notes:
—The Gene Siskel Film Center, 164 N. State St., is programming Jean Genet's homoerotic 1950 silent classic short film Un Chant D'Amour and the little-seen 1975 underground documentary The Continuing Story of Carel and Ferd on Friday, April 12, and Tuesday, April 16. The latter is an hour-long black-and-white film that tracks the romance of a former porn actress from the '60s (Carel) and her protracted romance with a bisexual junkie (Ferd). The movie includes scenes from 1975 with Carel and Ferd looking back at themselves in 1972 planning their wedding and discussing at length their unusual relationship. The "Ferd" featured in the film is none other than Ferd Eggan, co-founder of ACT-UP Chicago, filmed in the years before Eggan came out as gay and became a noted AIDS activist. (He succumbed to the disease in 1991.) www.siskelfilmcenter.org
—Legendary Oscar-winning film director William Friedkin (The Exorcist, The French Connection, Cruising, Boys in the Band, etc.) will be in town at two events in support of his newly released memoir, The Friedkin Connection.
The first is at the Chicago Film Critics Association (CFCA) Film Festival at the Muvico Theaters 18 in Rosemont on Sunday, April 14, with a 6 p.m. book-signing followed by a Q&A with Friedkin and a screening of his 1977 action thriller Sorcerer (an overlooked classic). Friedkin's appearance concludes CFCA's first ever film series, a three-day event at the Muvico that kicks off Friday, April 12, with an appearance by actress/filmmaker Sarah Polley, who will present her new documentary, Stories We Tell, at 7 p.m. Complete line-up and advance tickets for the CFCA series at www.chicagofilmcritics.org
Friedkin, a Chicago native, will also discuss his book with movie podcast Filmspotting co-host and producer Adam Kempenaar at the Harold Washington Library Center, 400 S. State St., in the Cindy Pritzker Auditorium on Tuesday, April 16, at 6 p.m. The latter event is free but seating is on a first-come, first-seated basis. http://www.chipublib.org/events/details/id/102601/
Also, see the interview with Friedkin in this issue on page 20.
Check out my archived reviews at www.windycitymediagroup.com or www.knightatthemovies.com . Readers can leave feedback at the latter website.
