Smart spells dull in Bee Season
Bee Season
Starring Richard Gere, Juliette Binoche, Flora Cross, Max Minghella and Kate Bosworth. Directed by Scott McGehee and David Siegel. 104 minutes. At Canada Square 14A The spelling of “ oppidan” is a major plot point in Bee Season, a movie about deconstructed words and disconnected family members, and it illustrates the problem of trying to make drama out of arid pursuits. The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary defines “ oppidan” as “ an inhabitant of a town,” although the meaning doesn’t matter to young Eliza “Elly” Naumann (Flora Cross), who hopes to win the National Spelling Bee with her answer. Her halting response becomes a frequent reference point throughout this competently acted but ponderous film, which screenwriter Naomi Foner Gyllenhaal has adapted from Myla Goldberg’s recent bestseller.
Mental exertions might more profitably be expended on figuring out which of the very serious cookies in Elly’s family will be the first to crumble. It is not a fun task.
There’s her dad Saul ( Richard Gere), a religious studies professor at the University of California in Berkeley who seems to have confused teaching about deities with believing that he actually is one. We know he’s smart because it’s RichardGere- in- glasses — doesn’t he ever do sexy anymore? — but he’s also a pedant and bully. He chides his family for not being as brainy and spiritual as he is.
Elly’s mom Miriam ( Juliette Binoche), a research scientist, is no less intense, although her battle of wills is all on the inside. She suffers flashbacks about a fateful car crash ( shades of Blue, Binoche’s 1993 art- house hit), and she makes unexplained trips to strange houses, on a mission only she can fathom — does she suspect infidelity by Saul, or is there something deeper at play? Older brother Aaron ( Max Minghella) is on his own vision quest, having determined that his family’s Jewish faith isn’t fulfilling him, but he’s not sure what he truly believes. He drops into a Roman Catholic church, receiving Holy Communion on a lark, and he’s an easy recruit when the local Hare Krishna temple looks to expand its membership, using the fetching Chali ( Kate Bosworth) as bait.
This leaves 11- year- old Elly, a child old before her years who favours a look of tightly clipped hair, pleated skirts, long turtlenecks and a permanently sad expression. She has discovered a talent for spelling that co- directors Scott McGehee and David Siegel have chosen to represent in mystical and magic terms, with letters flying through the air ( a giant “ A” lifted by helicopter winks to Fellini’s La Dolce Vita) and through various symbols, like the floral burst into “ dandelion” or the paper bird that wings the letters of “ origami.” McGehee and Siegel are big on metaphors and symbols, a passion they put to good use in their previous movie The Deep End, in which watery motifs floated a mother’s desperation. The symbology’s heavy and clumsy in Bee Season. Religious belief, family pride and the art of spelling combine for a veritable Hive of Babel, leaving us mystified about what really motivates these characters, and indifferent to whether they succeed or fail.
After ignoring his quiet daughter for quite some time — she resorts to sending him a letter under his office door, which he doesn’t read — Saul suddenly becomes the spelling- bee version of a hockey dad, pushing and promoting his child at every turn. He insists that her word skills, and the trance- like state she goes into while employing them, is akin to “ reaching the ear of God” — although why the Almighty would care about the spelling of “oppidan” is anybody’s guess.
Meanwhile, son Aaron is feeling neglected. He’s used to getting special attention from dad, who would join him in violin and cello duets in the family parlour. Now father is too busy coaching Elly, and Aaron turns to religion for solace. But is the young man really interested in chanting, or the charms of Chali? We get no clue. ( In the book, the Krishna recruiter is a man; the gender switch is a weak attempt at upping the passion quotient.) Miriam is also rapidly unspooling, her nocturnal prowls and obsession with bright shiny objects becoming stranger by the moment. Binoche excels at illustrating inner torment, but her badly defined role gives her precious little to work with. So intent is the film on finding symbols and magic in anything and everything, it forgets that flesh-and-blood humans are waiting on screen and off for something to really care about. And don’t blame the topic: the documentaries Spellbound and Word Wars
found both drama and humour in logophilia. How do you spell relief in Bee Season? This way: E-N-D-C-REI- T- S.