Stone Angel, The (2007)

Dir:- Kari Skoglund

Starr:- Ellen Burstyn, Dylan Baker, Cole Hauser, Christine Horne, Sheila McCarthy, Kevin Zegers, Peter MacNeill, Ellen Page

Scr:- Kari Skoglund adapted from the novel by Margaret Laurence

DOP:- Bobby Bukowski

Producer(s):- Elizabeth Jarvis, Phyllis Laing, Kari Skoglund

Margaret Laurence’s 1964 novel The Stone Angel is simply one of the best Canadian novels of the twentieth century. In the book the reader is introduced to the nonagenarian Hagar Currie Shipley, a passionate, stubborn, recklessly independent and bullying matriarch, who has gradually had what little power and authority she attained in her life steadily eroded by old age, creeping senility and the painful onset of cancer. Laurence, although only in her thirties at the time of writing The Stone Angel, manages to capture uncannily the voice of a woman who has uncompromisingly lived her life fighting against the wishes of what other’s – particular her stern, pioneer father – wanted for her. Hagar is the sole narrator of the novel and from the outset the reader is made aware of Hagar’s own self-knowledge of what is going awry within her. Gradually, over the episodic memory rush of the narrative, Laurence subtly clues the reader in to all of the ways in which Hagar is being circumspect or economical with the truth. However, what makes the novel so unforgettable, is the manner in which Hagar seems to resolutely strip away the layers of lies and nastiness that have clogged up her existence upon this earth, particularly when it comes to her relationship with her eldest son, and sole support, Marvin. This doesn’t mean that Hagar suddenly becomes a serene and pleasant old woman, who has resolved all of her myriad errors in life, but rather that she comes to some understanding of how she has deprived herself, and those around her, of that simple, yet powerful, human emotion love. Hagar is a masterfully created character, who seems almost utterly unique, but I have often wondered whether Laurence wasn’t influenced in some way by her Scottish forebear James Leslie Mitchell (a.k.a. Lewis Grassic Gibbon), whose character’s of Chris Guthrie in A Scots Quair and Meg in the short story Smeddum, share many similar characteristics and traits with Hagar.

Kari Skoglund’s recent adaptation of the novel is a picturesque and classy affair, buoyed by a remarkable performance from Hollywood veteran Ellen Burstyn. Despite the fact that this adaptation has much to recommend it, it still cannot adequately live up to its impeccable literary pedigree – a task made all the harder by the singular quality of Hagar’s first person narration. In an early misstep Skoglund takes the easy option of plastering a homespun voiceover all over the opening of the film. Not only does this insidiously weaken much of the visual elegance of the Manitoba frontier land that Skoglund has done well to recreate, but it can’t help but remind the viewer of painful examples of this kind of treacly reminiscence, particularly the absurdly lauded adaptation of Nicholas Sparks’ The Notebook – a film and novel that ruthlessly utilises the harrowing onset of dementia as a pretext for spinning a patronisingly romanticised fable about ‘true love’. Skoglund smartly drops the voiceover elements as the film progresses, but a little damage has been done and it takes a lot of work from Burstyn, Baker and Hauser to pull the film bag up to something approaching the cold majesty of the novel.

Some of the earthy sexuality of Laurence's prose comes through in the early heated exchanges between Bram (Cole Hauser) and the Young Hagar (Christine Horne).

The casting of this adaptation is fantastic. Burstyn has been an actress of staggering range and quality for over five decades, and yet since the late seventies her career has mainly consisted of quality television movies and minor roles in sub-standard Hollywood fare like Dying Young and Main Street. This is yet another reflection of just how wasteful the modern Hollywood system has been when it comes to talented middle-aged actresses, something that is only beginning to be rectified by the continued excellence of the likes of Julianne Moore, Meryl Streep and Glenn Close, within this current generation. It is something of a shame, as Burstyn proves just how great an actress she has always been with a performance that seems to embody the essence of Laurence’s Hagar, without ever overplaying the role. Alongside Burstyn, Dylan Baker, as her put upon eldest son Marvin, gives yet another of his multi-layered and impressively textured ‘men in distress’ performances. Baker, primarily as a result of his anaemic looks, is an actor who has tended to operate on the periphery of mainstream American cinema, turning in made-to-order bureaucratic middle-management roles in big budget releases, whilst offering up terrifyingly powerful performances in indie fare, like Todd Solondz’s Happiness. Here he paints a portrait of a middle-aged man having to look after a woman who he has incredibly complex feelings toward, whilst his business and home life is gradually falling apart.

Of the other cast members Cole Hauser makes a laconic appearance as the young Hagar’s uncouth husband Bram. Hauser has matured into an interesting and rugged acting presence with a rich voice, that is all the more powerful for going unused for large parts of the film. Hauser plays most of his scenes with relative newcomer Christine Horne, who manages to give the younger Hagar a cool sensuality, whilst not entirely convincing as the determined and divisive matriarch of the novel. There is something a little bit insipid in Horne’s relationship with her children, that doesn’t sit comfortably with either Burstyn’s later rendering of Hagar, or Laurence’s source material. Sheila McCarthy, Kevin Zegers and Ellen ‘Juno’ Page all deliver nicely realised, if slightly underdeveloped supporting turns, as Hagar’s daughter-in-law, spoiled youngest son and unrecognised niece, respectively. Skoglund’s casting even allows her to use some impressive CGI in richly composed shots that morph Burstyn into her younger self and vice versa.

At times Bukowski does an exceptional job of utilising the poetic resonance of the Canadian plains.

The location shoot, in and around Winnipeg and Hartney, gives a degree of authenticity to proceedings, with cinematographer Bobby Bukowski managing to utilise the flat plain lands and blurry horizon lines of central Canada to almost painterly effect. At points, particularly in the lake shots, it is as if Bukowski has hit upon a near perfect rendering of some halfway house between reality, dream and memory, a place in which objects become the focal point of shots acquiring a thick patina of meaning through their steady repetition (Hagar’s crystal decanter, for example). It’s a little disappointing that the quality of the cinematography isn’t maintained throughout the film, with many of the present-day interior shots being filmed in a dull and lifeless manner – without that appearing to have been an aesthetic choice.

It is with the present-day setting of the film that Skoglund appears to have made at least one conscious deviation from the novel. Whereas Laurence’s book was set in the sixties and looked back toward the turn of the century, it would appear that the film is set in the contemporary period looking back toward the 20’s and 30’s. This pushes the film a little farther from the faint pioneer history of the novel. Problems are created with one particular character as a result of this decision. Hagar’s father Jason Currie, a proud Scots pioneer with a mean, violent and resolutely dour protestant outlook on life, is almost embarrassingly muted within the opening flashback scenes of the film. In much the same way as Hagar is a domineering and dominant presence in her sons lives, Jason Currie is the gargantuan figure against which Hagar is constantly toiling. Little sense of the deeply conflicted love and loathing within their relationship comes out in the movie, not helped by a rather inept turn from Peter MacNeill whose accent is literally all over the map. Almost all of Hagar’s inhibitions toward love – not the physical sexual act – stem from the deformed nature of her father’s paternal affections, something that the film really fails to get to grips with.

History repeating - the manner in which Hagar (Ellen Burstyn) and Marvin's (Dylan Baker) relationship echoes, in a diluted form, Hagar's own relationship with her father, is something this adaptation gets absolutely spot on.

It would have been impossible to make a bad film of such a powerful and affecting story, but Skoglund’s effort, although by no means a failure, should not be seen as a successful adaptation. As director, she has assembled a strong cast, but shows limited visual ambition, despite good location photography from Bukowski. As screenwriter she fails to find an adequate means of cinematically interpreting Hagar’s rich first-person narrative, which only serves to weaken, or wholly trivialise, some of the key relationships in the movie. Finally, the moments of sentiment towards the film’s close, seem thoroughly at odds with Hagar’s own chillingly misanthropic view of love as a thoroughly impractical delusion.

Pros

• Great casting with Ellen Burstyn and Dylan Baker particularly effective as the older Hagar and Marvin.
• An impressive use of the Manitoba plains and lakelands, that at times creates a transcendent sense of reality and memory converging.
• Interesting use of subtle CGI when rendering past timescapes and character shifts.

Cons

• Neither entirely faithful as an adaptation nor radically experimental, the film seems to simply amble through Hagar’s stirring tale.
• Peter MacNeill is completely out of his depth as Hagar’s smothering father Jason Currie.
• The voiceover is ghastly and cheapens some of the sterling visual work.

Rating:- 5/10