Hot Mess Jim Parsons?
Vicious and Suave Zachary Quinto?
Yes please
I'll try not to gush too much, which shouldn't be too hard, as I didn't think the movie was by any means perfect. Perhaps it's just me, but it was a bit too arty for my tastes - a little heavy on theme, a little light on any actual movement of story. Which is fine - some people are clearly into that sort of thing. But it does amount to inundating yourself in something for an hour and a half fort aesthetic and meaning.
Fortunately, it does deliver on both those fronts. The sets and costumes are beautiful. Don't ask me if they're period-accurate or anything - I'm sure I wouldn't know. But the characters both look like they're from that era (to my untrained eye) and wear their clothing in a way that makes them feel like real people. Michael (Jim Parson's character) also has a house cluttered with his past, which leads me to the part of the movie I really liked. (Warning: Spoilers ahead, probably.)
Because the main meaning I took away from the movie was from the relationships between the characters. The whole movie is a roiling sea of interpersonal conflict, where powerful and distinct personalities clash. I won't go into all of the relationships, because I want to save myself the trouble, but I'll just rattle off some of the interesting ones in there:
- An unrequited love between friends
- A rocky relationship where views on monogamy don't line up
- A vicious friendship where barbs are traded freely, but deep down, both friends really care
- A young gay man and his 'community', valued for his youth and attractiveness but at the same time jealously despised for it
- Two men with a sexual history, and sexual tension, but one is in a relationship
- A vicious friendship where the barbs are not traded freely, because deep down, their relationship is a lot more complex than just wishing each other the best
It's the last one that really gets to me, and still gets me. In terms of friendships, I've been around the block at this point. I've gone from weird hermit to social butterfly and back again more times than I could possibly count. And I've noticed something along the way, and it stuck out to me so heavily in this movie, and that is this:
Friendships can fester and rot.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying all friendships do. I'm just saying that the possibility exists. In a lot of cases, once someone - a colleague, a neighbour, someone who shares a hobby with you - starts to be a toxic and unpleasant influence, you cut them out. You make an effort to avoid them, and eventually you move or change jobs or occupy yourself elsewhere, and that person's gone.
But what if you can't? What if you're stuck? I think it happens to a lot of people. In my own life, I've noticed that the gay community is a place that can very quickly cause you to form some very strong bonds with people, before you know if that's a good idea or not. I've recently experienced that writers - by virtue of our shared craft and struggle - can form similarly strong bonds as swiftly.
And the thing about those bonds is that they keep you together long after it's still practical - or healthy - for everyone involved. Friends drift apart - that's a natural, normal part of life. But sometimes we lose track of that - we think the strength of our bonds must stretch out through eternity, and hold us close together. And in doing this, we have the potential to destroy each other.
Maybe I fixated on the characters played by Parsons and Quinto too much because I love those actors, but I don't think so. (I love Matt Bomer too, and his felt kind of pointless.) I could also have been taken in by the chaotic way Michael fell apart as the evening wore on, and how Harold floated about dreamily and content, being hilarious and devastating.
But something resonated for me in who they are. Maybe it's a weird, inaccurate projection, but I saw in Michael what I've seen in some people who've hurt me before - an insecure person, lacking control in their own life, lashing out at the people around them to make themselves feel better.
And I hope I'm not being cocky by saying this, but in Harold, I recognised myself. Someone who lets a lot of things go, just trying to find amusement in contentment in life and let everyone be. But I can also be pushed too far, and I think if you're the sort of person who won't usually get into arguments, the result is often shocking. Although I don't think I've ever delivered a line this brilliant:
Are you now? You, warning me? Me? I'm Harold. I'm the one person you don't warn, Michael, because you and I are a match. And we tread very softly with each other, because we both play each other's game too well. I know this game, you're playing. I know it very well, and I play it very well. You play it very well too, but you know what? I'm the only one who's better at it than you are. I can beat you at it, so don't push me. I'm warning you.
What the movie didn't provide me with is answers. How I do I surround myself with people who don't make me become Harold? How do I make sure I'm not Michael? I'll possibly never know. But I don't tear people down any more, and that's a start. And I'm trying - though it's hard - to organically let people go. Not forever - not a banishment. But I won't work to keep something around if it's not good for me.
But above all, I'm going to keep trying to be nice, while still protecting myself. It's the best I can do, at the moment.
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