SPECIAL REPORT:
MY "KEANE" ADVENTURE
by Ann (a.k.a. damiandreamer)
June 12, 2005 was an amazing day.
It was the day on which I would see "Keane" for the first time.
It was the day on which I would see Damian Lewis on the "big screen" for the first time.
It was a day during which I would spent a total of 12 hours driving my car round-trip to Atlanta to attend the screening of the 90-minute Keane at the Landmark Midtown Art Cinema in Atlanta as part of the Atlanta Film Festival.
Was it worth it?
Hell, yeah!
But before I go into more details, I want to express some words of thanks:
Thank you, Damian Lewis, for a truly outstanding performance and an amazingly wonderful film experience that I will never, ever forget.
Thank you, Lodge Kerrigan, for making this exceptional film and for choosing Damian Lewis for the role of William Keane. If anyone ever seeks an example of an empirically perfect match of actor, role and story, this is it.
Thank you, Atlanta Film Festival, for presenting this film.
Thank you, Yahoo! Groups: Damian Lewis -- and particularly "KathyV" -- for discovering that Keane would be screened at the Atlanta Film Festival and sharing the information with the YGDL group.
Thank you, body-of-mine, for having the stamina, alertness and concentration to make the 6-hour drive to Atlanta and the 6-hour drive back home all in the same day so I could see this film.
Thank you, my car, for getting me to Atlanta and back safely and problem-free.
And thank you, tropical storm Arlene, for staying away from where I was traveling.
Okay, now I'll begin ...
I arrived at the theatre early, having allowed myself quite a bit of extra travel time in case of traffic or accidents or slowdowns due to bad weather -- none of which happened. (I encountered one brief downpour that lasted a mere three minutes, and some traffic congestion on the approach into Atlanta, but that was it. Otherwise, I could not have asked for better travel conditions.)
Being the first person to arrive to see Keane, I ended up sitting on a bench outside of the screening room. Unfortunately, there was no poster for the film. Instead, there was a poster for some other festival film (I don't recall its title) near the door. One of the women working there for the film festival sat with me and we struck up a conversation during which I did a decent share of promotion for the film. She knew nothing about Keane -- not even the story. She asked me, "What's it about?" I said something like, "It's about a schizophrenic/mentally ill [I forget which of those I said] man trying to find his daughter who had been abducted a few months before." I then told her that the film had received tons of good buzz -- including some Oscar buzz -- when screened at other film festivals. I mentioned Telluride, Toronto, the New York Film Festival and the Directors' Fortnight at Cannes. I mentioned that Roger Ebert is among many reviewers who have given it great reviews.
Then, I talked up Damian by asking her if she had seen Band of Brothers (she hadn't) or The Forsyte Saga (she had). I told her that the red-haired actor from The Forsyte Saga, Damian Lewis, plays the lead in Keane. Her face lit up over that.
At some point in the conversation, I told her where I had driven from just to see the film, and that I was returning home right afterward. She said, "I'm impressed!" I later overheard her telling some of her festival coworkers. It was amusing to be the subject of their little buzz-fest!
Once she knew I wasn't a local, the woman asked me how I found out that the film was playing at the Atlanta Film Festival. Truth be known, I owe it all to the sleuthful "KathyV" at Yahoo! Groups: Damian Lewis. However, since I didn't want her to sense any bias in what I'd been saying about Damian or the film, I simply answered, "Over the Internet."
All in all, I think I may have done a fairly good job "promoting" the film. The woman said she might watch it too if she could swing it with her festival duties. I did notice that several of the festival workers did watch from the back row, although I don't know if she was among them.
Roughly about 30 or 40 people attended the screening (excluding the festival workers). The crowd was about half men and half women, or maybe a few more men than women.
Another of the women working there for the festival introduced the film and the festival to us before the film started. She didn't really say anything about the film -- mostly provided information about the festival, such as its 29-year history, who is sponsoring it, and so forth. She told us about a party later that evening that was free to people who bring their ticket stubs. It might have been nice to go, but I had to head straight toward home after the film in hopes of getting at least a few hours sleep before going to work Monday morning.
She also told us that the little slips of paper given to us when they took our tickets were ballots for audience votes on the films. At the end of the festival, she explained, the director receiving the most favorable voting by audiences receives a prize. She didn't say what the prize was, however.
Then the theatre went dark. It was time. ...
The reel began to play in silence. The first vision: the Magnolia Pictures logo, followed by the 2929 Entertainment logo and credits for Populist Pictures, Steven Soderburgh and Lodge Kerrigan. (I hope I didn't leave any out ... I'm recalling this from memory.) Then came THE name: Damian Lewis. Then the title followed: Keane. Here we go ...
I won't recount the story. It's been done by others. There is a wonderful write-up at YGDL by "Amy and Linda" from the Toronto International Film Festival screening they attended in September 2004. (It's fairly thorough, although it is missing a few scenes that stayed in my memories. For instance, there is the scene in which William Keane picks the lock to Lynn's room and looks around the place and through some of their stuff, and at one point curls up on the bed. I think that was also when he found the newspaper with the story about another abducted girl who had been reunited with her family, and he wrestles with the contrasts between their outcome and his situation, and he struggles to be hopeful against all hopelessness. And there is also the scene at the Port Authority when he is desperately seeking the abductor of his daughter and starts muttering Tell Me Why (a sweet little song for children written by Pat Benatar), which presumably he must have sung to little Sophie often before her disappearance -- and probably did the same with Can't Help Myself. Some pretty poignant and powerful moments.)
I'll also save my impressions of the film for a little later in this account -- so be patient, those of you chomping at the bit for those. Expressing them verbally will be a challenge, for I don't think that words exist in any language to give this film and Damian's performance anything even remotely close to the immense praise they deserve. But as I said, I want to delay this part of the story just a little bit longer.
When the film ended, I asked for another ballot. (I told them I had misplaced mine when, in fact, I wanted to keep it as a souvenir. But at the same time, I wanted to vote and lend my support to the film!) As I circled the "5" (the top score on a ranking from "1" to "5") and wrote "Excellent!" on the short comment line, the woman holding the ballot box -- a different woman from the one I had had the conversation with earlier -- asked me if it was worth the trip from [my state's name, which I prefer not to disclose here for the sake of Internet privacy]. I answered with an emphatic, jubilant "Absolutely! It was excellent!"
Then I left the theatre and headed for my car and the biggest challenge of my day -- to put the film out of my thoughts so I could drive another 6 hours, mostly in the late night hours, and get home safely. I had to concentrate on driving. I couldn't think about the film -- or anything else for that matter, such as the upcoming workday or what my mother would think if she had known I had taken this trip. (Actually, I know how she would have reacted, which is why I didn't tell her. She is a champion worrier.)
If I hadn't had that long drive ahead of me, I probably would have sought out some quiet little solitary place where I could have let the emotions and thoughts pour out and run their course. Some of the reviews have talked about how this film reaches viewers on a visceral level. Very, very true. It goes straight to the heart, straight to the soul, straight to the core of your being. It soars straight passed that part of us that analyzes and articulates.
It has taken me nearly a week to prepare this report, mostly because of lack of time, and partly because I don't think I can find words to do it well -- even though I've been writing for a living for ye-e-e-ears. On the morning of Monday the 13th, still weary from the long drive and trying to figure out how I was going to get through the workday, I posted a brief word at YGDL that I made it home safely and that a full report would be forthcoming sometime soon, and I gave this very cursory impression to help tide over the group:
"I haven't yet found words to describe my reaction to the film. When it ended, all I could come up with was "Wow" -- and I mean that in the absolute best of all possible connotations. If you have the chance to see this film, see it."
In the interim, I have been asked about the whereabouts of my more detailed report, the person asking insisting that I "must have more to say about the film than 'Wow'!"
Well, "Wow!" was in fact, my mind's way of summing up this phenomenal experience: My mouth formed the word involuntarily as soon as the final scene ended and the screen turned dark for the credits to roll. A single "Wow!" might seem like very little to some of you. But in all honesty, it says quite a lot. Bear in mind that this "Wow!" comes from someone who had already read a ton of reviews and other press about the film for the past nine months since its Telluride debut. I had read detailed synopses. I knew what many other people had thought of the film. And I knew -- as I always know -- enough to have extremely high expectations when it comes to any production in which Damian is involved.
To get a "Wow!" from someone who knows nothing about the film or has no expectations would be one thing. But a "Wow!" from a perspective like mine takes the meaning of that response to an entirely different, much higher level.
I have never had a film reach me like this before -- in this way and so deeply. From the very beginning, my heart ached for William Keane. I wanted to help him however I could. I wanted to help him find the child. I wanted to calm him, comfort him, embrace him, ease his distress, make everything all right. My heart went out to him -- so much. I felt that throughout the entire film.
And it wasn't because it was Damian on the screen. I know that for certain, because there is something very unusual about all of Damian's performances that I have never experienced with any other actor. When I see any of Damian's performances, I don't see Damian. I don't see Damian's other characters. I see only the character he is playing in that performance. He disappears so totally into the characters he portrays that what I experience is the pure character. There is no "hey, there's Damian" or "hey, this character reminds me of the one he played in ..." or any of that sort of thinking. It's amazing, and, as I said, that has never happened to me watching any other recognizable actor -- no matter how talented they might be. And considering the high level of interest I have in Damian and his work, well, this ability to transcend himself into his characters so well just boggles my mind. To say the man is gifted is a huge understatement, in my opinion.
If I have one regret about this trip -- aside from not being able to stay over and see the second screening on Monday evening -- it is that I had to tuck the film away in the deepest resources of my "memory warehouse" (I just love that concept from Dreamcatcher; it really "works" for me) in order to drive home that night. And in order to get what sleep I could when I did return home, so that I could attempt to function quasi-normally on Monday, I couldn't really open that memory file box until Monday night.
Then Monday night finally arrived, and I opened that file box in my mind, letting those stored-away feelings and thoughts surface. It was tears-on-my-pillow time. And the tears were a diverse mixture of emotions.
I was feeling so proud of Damian and his performance. I was feeling the pain of his character and wanting to heal it, even though the story was fictional.
I was feeling the joy of having had the chance to see this film. I was feeling some sorrow over probably not being able to see it again for months ... or perhaps longer.
I was feeling a bit proud of myself for having taken this solo journey to Atlanta. I was feeling a bit guilty over not being able to tell my mother about it, and relief that she hadn't spent all of Sunday worrying profusely about me.
I was feeling sad about all of the real people in the world who are in situations similar to William Keane and Lynn and Kyra. I have had encounters with some of them. Most of us probably have at one time or another. And I think I reacted much like the people in the Port Authority -- with indifference, perhaps feeling fearful but trying not to show it. I never really thought twice about that indifference ... until now. It makes me start to weep now as I write this report. ...
And to continue on the dichotomy of emotional reaction, I felt -- and continue to feel -- so very fortunate to have the means to put a roof over my own head and food in my stomach, to have a fairly secure livelihood, to have people in my life to love and who love me, and to have Damian Lewis -- someone I have never even met -- adding so much richness and joy to my life.
If ever I had the chance to ask Damian about Keane, I think I would ask him, "How did you live in this character through the shoot?" It must have been so incredibly draining.
Some articles about the film have suggested that audiences might feel drained or exhausted from watching it. I didn't leave the film exhausted or drained. Mesmerized is probably a better description of how I felt. I was completely absorbed in the film from the first frame through the final one, so it surprises me a bit that I had energy remaining in me at the end, especially after the long drive that brought me there. But somehow, I suppose, my brain and body were preparing me for the long ride to return home by trying to conserve my energy and emotional reaction so that I could concentrate and focus on the driving. The emotions came, but I know for certain that they would have come stronger if that ride wasn't ahead of me. And stronger yet if I had been watching in a private place such as my own living room rather than a public theatre. Nothing was lost because of that though. It was simply internalized, tucked safely away, and surfaced when the time and place were right. In a way, it helped the experience last longer and made the memory even stronger, which is a good thing.
If this movie were released to all theatres tomorrow, it would already feel long an immeasurably long wait between now and then. I wish that moviegoers could purchase DVDs of movies they've just seen as they exit theatres. Yes, I know that's not practical and would lead to all sorts of piracy. But for those of us who would just simply like to have the film for ourselves so that we could watch it over and over, reliving this phenomenal film-going experiences that is so rare and so amazing, well, wouldn't that be wonderful to eliminate the wait?!
But that won't happen, so I suppose I'll sustain the experience through memory and re-reading articles, reviews and synopses until the great day comes when I can view this film again.
I am immensely grateful to now count myself among those who have had the fortune to see this film, and I feel a tinge of guilt because so many have not seen it yet. If any of you have an opportunity to see this film, well, I think you must know at this point that I strongly recommend that you see it if you are able.
I will never forget this trip.
I will never forget this experience.
I will never, ever forget this film.
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