The House of Mirth
Jeffrey S. Wettig

The sleeper romantic drama of the year may very well be The House of Mirth, which hit major market theaters in late January. Adapted by director Terence Davies from Edith Wharton's turn of the century novel about the upper crust of New York society, the film stars Gillian Anderson (of X-Files fame), Eric Stoltz, Laura Linney, Dan Aykroyd, and Anthony LaPaglia.

Anderson gives a riveting performance as Lily Bart, a woman bred to marry among the filthy rich who is running out of time and money in the pursuit. Her moral dilemma is that she has fallen for Lawrence Seldon, played casually by Eric Stoltz, who has neither the means nor the reputation to live up to the standards placed upon Lily by her uppity peers. Those suitors deemed appropriate, fail to spark the subconscious fire in her, leading Lily to sour her chances at almost every opportunity, which eventually causes her to realize the frailty of her situation.

The play between the unwritten rules of high society, the chauvinistic propensities of the men she loathes, and her puritanical benefactor's unwillingness to help (Eleanor Bron plays Mrs. Peniston excruciatingly well), leads us down the path of her self-destruction. There isn't much redemption in this story. Lily's pride gets the best of her, her peers use her and then cast her aside, her upbringing and situation leave her unable to cope with supporting herself and unwilling to reach out to the one person that loves her for who she is.

This film and story is emotionally taxing on both Lily and her audience. Never have I seen a character break down so utterly on screen and have it seem like genuine distress. As a performer, Gillian Anderson tends to wear her feelings near the surface, but I never expected the complete breakdown, the frenzied outpouring of emotion, all with perfect delivery, as was captured in this movie. There is a strong and pervasive emotional reality depicted throughout the entire film. Not since The English Patient have I walked out of a movie theater so completely drained, devoid of thought and emotionally exhausted. It was all left lingering inside with the final scene. The difference this time was that it felt good, more like a thorough counseling session with a good therapist than a forced interrogation by your spouse or parents. Judging from the comments I heard after the credits rolled, I wasn't the only one who felt this way.

Another common theme among the crowd was that of confusion. For the casual filmgoer The House of Mirth may seem a bit much if you haven't read the novel. The beginning is presented as a series of vignettes, going from one scene to the next without much in the way of explanation. Anyone that doesn't pay close attention to the dialogue or have the story firmly in place ahead of time may get confused easily. Some time after the first hour, though, it all comes together. The reasons for Lily's situation, and why she is being treated so, become clear. From here on out the exquisite imagery, period detail, and stunning performances lull you in.

This movie is both sensuous and emotional. The aesthetics of the set locations and costumes provide a visually breathtaking backdrop for the dramatic portrayal of Lily's downfall. And what a downfall it is. If you are like me, you will feel all of the pain and tragedy of this story to the marrow of your soul. It will leave you ravaged, an empty shell trying in vain to pick up the pieces scattered on the murky theater floor. I won't hesitate to wager that most people have endured emotional pain in the pursuit of true love at some point in their lives. This story, this film, may well unleash those pent-up feelings through the intense, vulnerable performance of Gillian Anderson, as Miss Lily Bart, when the horrific realities of her world come crashing down. The underground rumblings concerning an Oscar nomination for Ms. Anderson could, and should, match the intensity with which she portrayed this role.

CineScene, 2001