Too much of everything

For all the hype it got I was expecting a lot more!

To all those who have watched it: I hope you enjoyed it as much as I do.

It’s fine. It's literally the definition of a fine movie. You’ve seen it before, you know every beat and outcome before the characters even do. Only question is how much escapism you’re looking for.

This film was put together very well for the most part, but at the same time it is very uneven. The biggest knock on it is the main character, Lisa, who is very unlikeable. She is the main cause for the accident at the beginning, yet she goes on a crusade thru most of the film, trying to get the bus driver, who ran over the woman, fired. But she caused the guy to get distracted in the first place, so the audience is supposed to jump on board her quest for justice? I wasn't buying that. Again, she caused the accident. And you can't buy into her developing friendship with the woman who's good friend was the one one who was killed, as they get together to sue the city of New York over the accident. The film was shot and directed well though, it holds your interest. But again, to me, the character of Lisa, comes across as a snot-nosed, manipulative, spoiled, teenager, which damaged what could have been a great film.

Between the end of principal photography and a final, minuscule theatrical release hastily shoved out of sight, two of Margaret's producers actually passed away. That's how long Kenneth Lonergan's sophomore effort languished in post-production hell. It's not hard to spot the half-decade anachronisms when they surface. The New York of 2005's Margaret is thick with post-9/11 malaise, where everyday anxieties become magnified in the wake of tragedy, and in which throwaway comments conjure a whirlwind of spiteful accusations, finger pointing and immediate partisan defences. Yet even with the sharp performances of Lisa's politically-inclined classmates, and the refreshing change of pace to see high schoolers not solely depicted as listless, disengaged drones, the moment has passed. These fiery exchanges seem like a relic of an angrier, younger political climate, America's zit-covered freshman picture that you cover up out of embarrassment. Anna Paquin plays Lisa Cohen (in a role similar to hers in Spike Lee's 25th Hour, which captures the aforementioned mood more effectively), a playful, privileged student on the Upper West Side, at least until a fatal accident thrusts her moral conscience into vertigo. Seeing the sheer confidence of tone in the opening half-hour makes you mourn for the mess that follows; barely minutes into the film, Margaret is skipping along the street until a chance encounter with a bus driver leads to a pedestrian being struck. The handheld camera jerks up towards the sky and then is suddenly still, we see and hear the visceral crunch of the victim's groceries, and then a woman is dead. The cinematography, which gives the appearance of grainy camcorder footage, assists, using available light to create believable grit. Lisa, being the teenager she is, returns home covered in blood, flippantly replies to her little brother's query, and only then unloads in the bathroom. Lonergan uses slow motion and compressed, telephoto shots to show a girl mute to the rest of the world, walking several blocks in the blink of an eye. And he positions the camera overhead (suggesting a voyeuristic surveillance) as she fends off the advances of her best friend in a cafe. But that's the least of her worries; you can barely hear their dialogue, the soundtrack gradually building a mass of nonsense and noise in the back of her mind. About half of the rest of Margaret documents the self-righteous entitlement of a teenager who witnesses a tragedy and, consumed by the guilt of her involvement, embarks on a quest to right wrongs and reveals truths. When the camera focuses on the agony and desperate etched on Paquin's face, and the lengths she will go to in order to assuage her own conscience, the film excels. She attacks each scene with the youthful ferocity of someone who believes she understands who she is, but fashions a role for herself that masks vanity for doing the right thing. Her delivery is almost always breathless, conviction weaved through her words but breaking down from the inside. Paquin is capable of anything - ask her to lose her virginity to the greasy stoner classmate, and she'll do it (a piercingly accurate first time sex scene, consisting mostly of fumbling, darkness and embarrassment). Ask her to seduce her well-meaning but naive teacher with the mock confidence of an adult putting the moves on in a bar, and she'll do it. Watch her wield cigarettes as a weapon to mark her independence to the world. But despite her brilliance, there's hardly any consistency or continuity between these two trysts, with large swathes of the film devoted to secondary characterisation that brushes and hints at developments that never arrive. There's an 'intervention' of sorts staged by the drama teacher which doubles as an acting exercise, with techie Lisa unleashing a torrent of tears for her fractured relationship with best friend turned ardent admirer (who then inexplicably disappears for the rest of the film). Lonergan himself plays the quiet, unassuming father a million miles away in California. His monthly long distance calls have the cadence and personality of one of his riveting business meetings, and you can see a streak of obligation in the way he closes out these conversations. One exquisitely timed sequenced sees his partner walk in and interrupt one of their calls, and the hassle that cascades from this conflict leads to the entire trip being cancelled. Lisa will be mournful and despondent one moment, and giggling in Central Park the next. Teenagers may be remarkably unpredictable, but Lonergan can't marry these sequences together with any conviction. They seem like two separate movies altogether, merged by vague contemplations via muted cityscapes in wide shot. The film aims to expose Lisa's phony, operatic crusade as nothing more than an immature brat shifting the centre of the universe in alignment with her conscience, but the main problem is that this spills out elsewhere. Each character exists in Lonergan's cinematic world, where strangers caught up in emotional crises run their mouths and spit each carefully cultivated word of his script without so much as a stutter. Every lecture directed at Lisa from the older, matured figures of Emily and Joan may be true, but the conversations become shrill and facile because of the way the dialogue is written, with Lonergan being unnecessarily wordy or unable to smuggle his thematic intents more effectively. Even Paquin, who's prone to outbursts of faux intellect and moral superiority, can't reign these in. Compare that to the single allowance in Lonergan's debut (delivered by himself, naturally), and the depths of emotion he musters with tortured glances and clipped words in Manchester By the Sea. So the final flourish, a lurid, unapologetically melodramatic opera where mother and daughter openly weep, is made dull by all the weeping and moping beforehand. It's par on course for hysterics, instead of being a torrent of emotional catharsis.

After hearing of the lawsuit that delayed this film's release for 4 years, I was intrigued. The director claimed to have been granted the final say on the film's cut, but the studio was not having it. Another Alien 3, where studio mettling adversely altered the final product? No, not at all. This is just a very bad film.90% of the scenes are conversations filmed in shot reverse shot. These conversations also retread the same subject matter constantly. The other 10% are shots of the NYC skyline with opera music playing. This is not a viable method to give a vapid movie substance. I watched the 3 hour extended cut, and felt every second of its run time.Also worth mentioning are the two extended cameos by the director where he has meaningless conversations with the protagonist (I saw this as if there was a plot) over the telephone.There is absolutely nothing to be gleaned from watching this. There is no underlying message or any substance to speak of. Avoid it like the plague.

If you want to put a positive spin on this movie, you may say it has its originality. Those oversupplied subplots really got me going to see the end. Kudo to the director on that.I recently watch "Young Adam" and was quite taken in by the story. This one also has an unrelated title to the characters in the movie. However, I would say most audience would not be able to guess where it came from. It was shot in 2005, released in 2011 and not picked up by the main distributions even then. So you may see where the audience stood for. However, it's not the worst adolescent movie I ever saw so far. It had some witty dialogues at least.Starting the movie with excessively graphic car accident really confused me with horror than sorrow. The director seemed to have all the scenarios play out but failed to connect them cohesively. I also feel Anna Paquin was not the right girl to play the role. She has a full grown woman's figure. It's hard to disguise as a teenager. Ellen Page would be ideal. And Allison Janney should play Emily. Jeannie Berlin's performance was too theatrical and over the top in some degrees. The only success in this movie would be keeping you guessing what would happen next. This one reminded me of "Incendiary" which suffered the similar fate. I would say sometimes the directors lost their vision of the movie media should be. It's not like writing a novel. You only can use it to carry out the most vital messages.Throughout all the ordeals in life, everyone will end fine. That probably summed up what this movie is about.