Maudie is a big
little picture about a strange, difficult, yet exquisite relationship.
Primarily, it’s about the hard, yet ultimately fulfilling life of the titular
character Maud Lewis, the wonderful Canadian “naïve” painter who died in 1970. But
her life is intertwined with that of Everett Lewis, a fish peddler/junk dealer
and near recluse, who eventually became her husband. Although based on a true
story, Maudie is not a documentary; it’s a narrative film starring Sally Hawkins (Blue
Jasmin – 2013) as Maud and Ethan Hawke (Before Sunset – 2004) as
Everett.
Thanks to the passion for this project of Irish director,
Aisling Walsh, the visual sensibilities of cinematographer Guy Godfree (great
name!), and especially the deeply immersive acting of Sally Hawkins and Ethan
Hawke, Maudie is a poignant portrait of
an unlikely life and an even more unlikely romance. And although tinged with a touch of sentimentality,
it mostly feels unflinchingly honest and real. Maudie is one of those movies in which, although we may not know the
particulars, we have a pretty good idea right from the start where it’s going
to take us, but it does not matter a whit. The journey is the thing. I’ve seen the
film twice, enjoyed as much on the second viewing as on the first.
Maud was born in rural Nova
Scotia in 1903 and lived there her whole life. Early on, she became afflicted with juvenile
arthritis, a progressive disease that soon made her a bit hunched, with an
ungainly walk that brought such social ostracism that her mother had to remove
her from school and educate her alone at home. She also taught Maud to paint. By
1937, both parents had died, and older brother Charles (Zachary Bennett) sold
the family home, claiming the entire inheritance for himself, and left Maud to
be cared for by an aunt. This is the point where the film’s story begins.
Life with Aunt Ida (Gabrielle Rose) quickly proves
intolerable. Maud is forbidden to paint - her one pleasure – because it’s too
messy. She’s chastised for going out. Treated by her disapproving aunt with
such little accommodation or respect, Maud understands that this is no life at all.
While biding her time at the general store one day, another outsider, the irascible,
inarticulate Everett Lewis storms in announcing that he “wants a woman”, which is
his way of referring to a housekeeper. Being illiterate, he asks the shopkeep
to write a help wanted sign to post on the bulletin board. As soon as he’s
gone, Maud snatches down his posting and later, having painfully walked the
several miles to his cottage, offers herself for the job.
There’s a fad for so-called tiny houses nowadays, but I
doubt Everett’s place, as Maud found it, would get much interest. It was far
out of town and isolated. Measuring just twelve feet by twelve feet, the house
consisted of one mean room downstairs, with a cramped attic bedroom above. The downstairs had a door and window in front
and a tiny window on one side, plus a wood stove, a standing cupboard, a table,
and a few wooden chairs. Upstairs there was a bed and maybe a crude bureau. No
electricity, no telephone, no insulation or much else really (unless one
considers a chicken coop or storage shed amenities).
Everett is proud though. He owes nothing to nobody and is completely
self sufficient; owning his own place is icing on the cake - not that he has need of frivolities like cake. But the
man works hard all day and the idea
of having someone take care of the household chores has its appeal. Except for
the regrettable fact that he’ll have to deal with an actual person – a skill at
which Everett does not excel, to say the least. When Maud shows up, he’s less
than thrilled, much less welcoming. He has eyes and can see that she’s an
unlikely housekeeper – even for such a house as his. It’s unlikely Everett would
have gotten other applicants in any case, had Maud not eliminated the
possibility by snatching his notice. So he takes her on.
She’s not particularly capable, but Maud stays. It’s a trial,
particularly at first, for both. Each of
these folks is an odd duck; but physically and temperamentally, they couldn’t
be more different. Everett is a robust working man and proud of that,
but he's also a crusty,
earth-bound, misogynistic misanthrope. By
contrast, Maud - despite physical, economic, familial and gender handicaps - is optimistic, intelligent, a little dreamy, artistic, friendly,
shyly charming and, as needed, sly and clever to boot.
One of the wonders of Maudie
and a testament to the director and her lead actors is that neither of these
folks comes across as a caricature. They are complicated and ultimately
endearing individuals. Maud sees and appreciates the beauty in her world, but
she’s no stranger to sorrow, and she’s not immune. Throughout her life (and throughout
the film), she must cope with uncertainty, setbacks, heartbreak and all the
rest that life (and her husband) throws at her. Hawkins gives a great, great nuanced
performance, bringing Maud to life so believably, she (the actress) disappears.
Everett too is brought from the screen
into our hearts as a person struggling in and with his place in the world. He’s
mightily flawed for sure but, in Hawke’s portrayal, he’s a human being – a man who
says little, but feels deeply. As he gradually comes to realize just how
special his wife is and, more significantly, how much he actually cares for and
needs Maud in his life, he changes – slowly, subtly, but surely. It’s a fine, beautiful
thing to watch – and one of the best performances of Hawke’s career.
Why are we interested? Why do we care? From a story point of view, it obviously it
has to do with Maud’s eventual notoriety as a folk artist. Her art mirrors her personality in many ways: simple,
appealingly upbeat, joyful, and charming. It seems to just pour out of her. As
a child she painted postcards to sell in the neighborhood. As soon as she moves
into Everett’s house, she’s painting colorful flowers and birds on the wall, then on the window, brightening up the place with her art. She paints
on wood scraps and cardboard - whatever’s at hand. And after awhile, people
notice, she sells little cards for a nickel apiece, bigger pieces for maybe
five dollars. Summering New Yorkers pick up on this naïve art. They love it,
and talk about it – and her. By the end of her life, Maud has become a local
celebrity. Not rich, but kind of famous.
By this time, her arthritis is seriously crippling – so much
so that she can barely hold a brush. She also suffers from emphysema – a consequence
of the persistence of oil paint fumes in her tiny workspace and of her heavy smoking
habit. Still she paints.
There are many fine cinematic moments in Maudie. The first actual meeting between
Maud and Everett is one. Funny and awkward-sad at the same time. Another comes
later in the film, when the loathsome Charles returns to see his sister, now
that she’s getting some publicity and (he presumes) making money. Oh, how she
sees through him! There are a couple of crucial scenes frankly depicting Maud
and Everett navigating the delicate issue of sex. It’s awkward, not a Hollywood
fantasy of lovemaking, but part of “the weird, strange, scratchy messiness of
life”, as Hawke put it in a recent interview.
Visually, how Walsh and Godfree were able to capture the
intimacy of the Lewis’s tiny house is incredible. The landscape has a big role, too - like
another character in the picture: the vast beauty of distant blue water, the sweep
of the grassy fields in summer and autumn, the chill of the wind gusting across
a snowy, country winter. I was reminded of Andrew Wyeth landscapes.
The film is not perfect (what is?). From what I understand, Maud’s
story may have been bleaker than the one Maudie
depicts - the level of poverty harsher, the relationship less endearing. The Lewises
are gone now, and they had few if any close friends to testify. We shouldn’t
take a narrative film quite so literally anyway, and I doubt anyone does. As
cinema, though, Maudie can be faulted for the way it shows us the art of Maud
Lewis. Mostly we see flowers and birds – the cute stuff Lewis painted to
decorate the little house she lived in. These images are iconic in a way, but
prompt the disconcerting question: what’s the big deal about her art? And if
that was all there was, it’d be a valid question. At the end, though,
interspersed with the final credits, we get the real deal and with a smile of
relief, we say to ourselves “Oh! OK, now I understand.”
There seems to be a big ad campaign building in support of
Maudie. That’s a good thing. It is a lovely and deserving film that captures
and illustrates one of the things movies can do best: provide, in an artful, way
an appreciation of other people’s lives and a reflective insight into what it
means to “live a life.” I hope lots of
people see it.
115 minutes – PG13
Grade: A
At
select theaters via rolling release: 6/16/2017 NYC and L.A.; 6/23/17 San Francisco, DC
area, L.A. area; 6/30/2017 SF Bay Area, Philadelphia, Cambridge; and additional
cities over the summer.
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