MOVIE REVIEW: The Ballad of Jack and Rose

Daniel Day-Lewis and Rebecca Miller’s first cinematic love-baby, The Ballad of Jack and Rose is far from smooth-skinned and gurgling—beneath the stunning surface is a disturbing whirl of chaos and sorrow.

Ballad’s director, Rebecca Miller, is Arthur Miller’s daughter and co-writer of the 2005 screenplay of Proof. She and actor Daniel Day-Lewis (Last of the Mohicans) have been married since 1996. They met while Day-Lewis was working with Arthur Miller on the pre-production of the film version of The Crucible, and this is their first movie together.

Ballad in fact echoes this family connection, though only in the sense of a girl meeting her possible “partner” in the house of her father. Unfortunately, the context and result of the situation is a bit less cheery than that of Day-Lewis and Miller. In the film, Jack’s (Day-Lewis) 16-year-old daughter Rose (Camille Belle, Jurassic Park), sees her world fall to pieces in a flash.

Having grown up in isolation with her father on a secluded island which was once the site of a 1960s commune of which Jack was a part, Rose has had very little contact with the world besides her father and the man who delivers her flowers (she has a deep interest in planting and studying botany). She is perfectly satisfied with this situation, but when her father becomes ill and they realize that he is dying, Jack decides to bring home his lover (Catherine Keener, Being John Malkovich) and her two sons to live with them.

In a mess of coming-of-age jealousy and temptation, the outside world comes flooding into the previously peaceful and idyllic home of Jack and Rose. Characters and relationships become more and more dysfunctional, drifting away from the practical, normal, and pretty initial state of affairs. On the way, Rose discovers her sexuality as well as how teenagers from the outside world act and think.

Besides superb acting (especially by Day-Lewis), one of the film’s greatest strengths is its aestheticism. The camera seems magnetically pulled into close-ups of faces, flowers, mirrors, textures, and bodies, constantly forcing the viewer to look at these surfaces for what they are, instead of what they mean.

The scenery—shot in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island—is dazzling, though it stands out from the usual picturesque cinematography because of the giddy camera work. A feeling of disorientation is echoed throughout the movie, from the heaving plot to the erratic soundtrack that shifts between the general quiet of the film and the occasional blaring melody.

The camera is constantly moving, especially when using a hand-held, and the montage of shots and images is often completely unmatched (cutting, for example, straight from a close-up of a flower to a shot of the swirling sky), resulting in a rather dizzying experience.

One should be warned ahead of time that, although the film starts in a romantic and dreamy setting, it soon becomes (intentionally) repulsive, not to mention unbelievably depressing. As the outside world comes in, the beautiful lives of Jack and Rose are completely ruined.

Ballad is one of those films where you kick yourself for having paid for such a saddening experience, but soon the feeling fades, and all that you are left with is the memory of how visual the film was, forgetting the misery. It elicits not a bawling depression, but more of a building frustration, watching as petals of innocence are trampled by the stinking feet of the world.

The movie moves along fast enough, despite its artsiness and the fact that, within the first 20 minutes or so, you can predict almost every element of the plot. This, I believe, is the point—as the movie progresses, and you know what will happen, you want to tell the dude in the back to stop the film and rewind to the beginning where we were showing fields of swaying flowers.

The Ballad of Jack and Rose isn’t just another teenager/drugs/sex flick (even though Jena Malone is in it, and she seems to be floating farther and farther away from little star-gazing Ellie of Contact). It surely isn’t the usual romantic movie (so don’t go into the movie expecting a kissy comedy, no matter what you dream about Day-Lewis). It doesn’t fit into the usual artsy category either.

Unlike the usual shellacked and blissful blockbusters that cover up reality’s grunge, Ballad is memorable for exposing the true condition of the characters and their world. For those who are willing to face such brutal honesty, this film’s message and vision are unforgettable.