Film programmer, critic, and documentarian Kent Jones’
feature-film debut, Diane (2019) tells the story of an old, selfless woman
relentlessly looking after all the damaged and diseased people in her life. In
fact, there’s not much of a story here, but a deeply textured observation of
the elderly woman; her Sisyphean angst and regrets haunting the autumnal phase
of her life. This is expressed intriguingly in the film’s very first scene,
which opens at a hospital’s terminal patients’ ward, the sound of vital-signs
monitor beeping in the background. We see a woman dying of cervical cancer. But
this isn’t Diane. She is Donna (Deirdre O’Connell), Diane’s cousin. The titular
character (Mary Kay Place) is sitting opposite Donna, asleep in a chair. Donna
casts a worried look at Diane and asks, “Are you okay, honey? You look all
tuckered out.” It’s a very simple yet a graceful way of setting up the central
character.
Diane lives alone in Massachusetts who often visits her
dying cousin and her drug-addicted son, Brian (Jake Lacy). She works at a soup kitchen showering empathy
on the dispossessed people and treats them with dignity. Diane shares her pain
with her long-time friend, Bobbie (Andrea Martin). She also frequently visits
her aunts and uncles (played by gifted veteran actors including Estelle Parsons
and Phyllis Somerville), who laughs and reminisce about the old days despite their
weak physical condition. Diane doesn’t do anything for herself. Her maternal
instincts keeps taking her back to Brian, who begs his mother to leave him
alone and provide the chance to cure the addiction in his own way. Many
characters in the narrative also insist the same. Surprisingly, Brian does find
a way and heals himself. But circumstances change, as it always does in
ordinary life, that at a later point, the mother asks the son to leave her
alone.
Regret and shame it seems keeps pushing Diane into an abyss.
It looks like she hasn’t yet forgiven herself for the past transgressions (she
still keeps it to herself the pain and guilt caused by her deeds). Although we
only get to know about the grey chapters of her past only later in the
narrative, Mary Kay Place deeply carries a look that conveys Diane’s tenacity
for seeking atonement. Diane’s misery is only heightened by the deaths of her
loved ones, which takes away her only ‘pleasure’ of being a caregiver for
others. It may sound like a bleak domestic drama on death, aging, and life’s
monotony. But the film finds enough warmth and humor within the damages and
fatigue of quotidian life. The subtly staged communal gathering of Diane’s
family is such a treat to watch. The miseries that have shaped the lives of
these resilient old people are conveyed with a resounding impact. In one of the film’s most heartwarming scene,
we see Diane, drunk on margaritas, standing alone outside a bar in a wintry
night. Just as she starts wailing, her aunts appear out of nowhere, offering
comfort rather than questioning her.
Kent Jones who had collaborated on documentaries with Martin
Scorsese (My Voyage to Italy and Letter to Elia), has made his first feature-film,
evincing the delicate directorial touches of Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Robert
Bresson. Unlike the pillow shots of Ozu, Jones keeps showing variations of a
car traveling down the road. It is shot from the point of view of the driver
which apart from conveying the passage of time contemplates how we are mostly
‘passengers’ and not ‘drivers’ in this life. It does feel at times that Jones
have packed a lot and keeps rushing to various narrative events that only
serves the purpose to pose the greater spiritual, existential questions. Yet
the strongly grounded characterization of Diane and the precisely textured
melancholic tone engulfed my attention in the narrative.
We are very much alone in this life. Hence, it’s important
to escape from the emotional prisons we confine ourselves to and to be able to
live comfortably with ourselves. It’s what this humble character study tells to
the Diane within us.
Trailer
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