Watched: Smashed
When I was seventeen and eighteen, I had no concept of moderation.
There was a party to celebrate the Eurovision Song Contest (because of course there was) in someone’s cellar. It was the sort of place in which you wouldn’t want to be sober; the place stank of urine and there was a constant draft from the cracked windows. That night, I drank far too much and then divulged too much of how I was feeling, post-breakup… to my ex. I scuffed my knees when I finally dragged myself upstairs, and passed out.
When I came to, I was still drunk in a room I didn’t recognise. It was 5am. Confusion set in. I walked outside. It was March, and spring was taking its time - the cold helped to wake me up, if little else. I was in Marple, which is six miles - a two-hour walk - from my house. I started walking. Along the way, I encountered an elderly couple, and pretended to be an Irish exchange student who’d been unceremoniously dumped miles away from his lodgings. They offered me a lift - maybe they were convinced, maybe they just saw that I was drunk out of my mind. The same morning, I went into the centre of Manchester with the rest of my family, still drunk and trying desperately to hide it, as my Mum ran 10 kilometres for charity.
I wasn’t an alcoholic, but I couldn’t drink without embarrassing myself for at least a couple of years. This film taps into that feeling - the loss of control and personal responsibility that accompanies true drunkenness.
Mary Elizabeth Winstead is mesmerising. There are a few actors who are lucky enough to have the sort of faces that scream empathy, and it’s tragic that she’s been handed so many shitty roles (Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, I’m looking at you). Here, she’s given room to monologue and display all of her talents.
It’s to the film’s credit that the early scenes of drunkenness aren’t played for the sake of pity - they’re genuinely sweet, and demonstrate that (surprise, surprise) excessive drinking can actually be fun. The problems creep in, rather than being present from the start. There’s a speech Winstead delivers at the first turning point of the film, and it’s heartbreaking to watch. This whole film is heartbreaking.
Films about coming to terms with addiction run the risk of either being irresponsible or preachy, and while this sometimes runs into the latter it’s so heartfelt and sensitive in its execution that you can’t help but forgive it. Like Leaving Las Vegas, it actually understands the perverse appeal of getting drunk, rather than using it as a convenient plot device.
Aaron Paul, Nick Offerman and Octavia Spencer (especially Octavia Spencer) round out the cast brilliantly, but this is really Winstead’s film. When her character fails, it feels like a punch to the gut; when she succeeds, you feel practically buoyant. This was fantastic.
(Yes. Another format change. I’m sick of being trite.)