#5: Philomena

I am no stranger to old-people films at Plaza Frontenac, where I am the youngest person in the theater by thirty-five years.  I try to choose those films wisely, though, directing my mother to stuff that runs at the 20-screen cineplex five minutes from the house and saving the olds conventions for the stuff she really wants to see.  I managed to miss Philomena and I never regretted it, but I liked it way more than I thought I would. I realized I hadn't watched a movie in over a week so I needed to get on it, and this was one of the choices on the DVR.

Judi Dench, naturally, was flawless as Philomena but I need to talk about Steve Coogan for a second.  As you know, I don't see nearly the movies I want to so I'm not really in the know but I literally never heard of this dude before Philomena.  Apparently he's been around since I was eleven, so what do I know? Anyway, he produced and co-wrote this film (based on the book The Lost Child of Philomena Lee by journalist Martin Sixsmith) and acted as sort of an audience proxy, becoming enraged when I did and letting a nun have it in a very satisfying manner.  I don't want to stereotype all nuns because there are some good ones out there, but if you've been around enough of them you've probably had the urge to punch one in the face at least once.  I've never actually done it and Coogan doesn't either, but the ending is nearly as satisfying.

Irish homes for unwed mothers have been getting some deserved bad press of late, and I think the little that I've read about the Tuam scandal brought Philomena's story to life for me.  Even the girls and their babies who were treated "well" by the sisters running the homes suffered, and boy is the movie gut-wrenching.  I mean, these poor girls.  Their poor babies.  What madness.  What tragedy.  It's amazing the happy ending Philomena was able to scrabble from the shambles of her story, and there are so many women out there who never knew what happened to their children.  One thing I thought of while watching was, I wonder if these idiots on Teen Mom know how lucky they are, being able to fuck up their own kids so royally?  (I want to make it clear that I do not think girls are idiots for getting pregnant in high school: Shit happens.  But I have yet to see one of these MTV fame rats not prove my worst suspicions about them.)  If they'd lived in mid-century Ireland they'd be ironing bedsheets and watching through barred windows as their kids were sold off from underneath them.  What luxury, then, to keep your child in your house and develop relationships with them.  Underlying the whole film is a sense of the luxury we live in now, and how much we take it for granted.