Shaun Munro's Reviews (ShaunMunro.co.uk):
Halle Berry is a great actress when she wants to be, yet has encountered a distinct poverty of meaty roles in recent years, instead opting for high-budget, high-concept studio pictures. Alas, "Things We Lost in the Fire" is something of a salvation for the actress who performed so memorably in Monsters Ball. Alongside the ever-brilliant Benicio Del Toro, Berry reminds us here that she can add dimension to a character, herein conveying an unrestrained sense of heartbreak with maturity and fiery zest.
The central theme of the film is coping, and moreover, surmounting one's problems, as Audrey Burke (Berry) experiences the irredeemable loss of her husband, Steven (Duchovny). Audrey is struggling to deal with her loss, even neglecting to let people know of the tragedy. The picture Bier paints is a highly authentic depiction of the fallout surrounding catastrophic loss, and amazingly, she also succeeds in engaging the viewer.
Jerry Sunborne (Del Toro), a long-time friend of Steven's, is a picture of depravity himself - a Heroin addict, yet, particularly in his interactions with Steven and Audrey's children, is a rather likable fellow. Del Toro narrowly manages to sidestep the clichéd "addict with a heart of gold" routine, remaining just distant enough to rouse a little unease.
At Steven's wake, and through a series of flashbacks, we gather the impression, at least at first, that he was nothing short of a Saint, and enjoyed a flawlessly happy family life. Fortunately, Bier employs the good sense to add layers to this dynamic, introducing a conflicting force, who happens to be Jerry himself. Steven was relentless in helping Jerry quit drugs, even visiting him at the sacrifice of his own family's happiness. In his life, Steven was wedged firmly between his decades-long friendship, and his family - it's a conundrum which spins the web that the rest of the film clings to.
Naturally, the death of Steven, the only stabilising force in his life, hits Jerry hard, violently knocking him off of the wagon. Furthermore, this occurs at a time at which Audrey, who seems to have few, if any friends, needs an emotional crutch - her family life is extremely strained, and she needs Jerry as an outlet, yet he is himself battling the uphill struggle of recovery.
In what is a materially strange spin, Audrey asks Jerry to move into the house, and in an even more bizarre spin, Audrey isn't offering it as charity - she is in fact taking charity from Jerry, who offers his company to help rebuild her life, and vicariously, rebuild his own.
As such, Bier, with all the subtlety of a mortar strike, postulates the possibility of Jerry becoming a surrogate patriarch to this now-fractured family unit. Thus, there is the standoff - two down-and-outters attempting to rebuild their lives, whilst one battles a drug addiction and the other the constrictions of raising a family.
The relationship between Jerry and Audrey is an incredibly curious one - she almost seems to use him at times, at one point quite literally utilising him as a substitute for her husband. Does Jerry feel as though he's betraying his deceased friend? Even though there's little-to-no sexual tension, the situation is unabatedly awkward, and it's clear what is ticking over in Jerry's mind. Curiously, though, Audrey brings Jerry his clothes, as well as breakfast every morning, and perhaps she feels the need to fill the void left by her widowdom.
The idea of Jerry serving as a surrogate is posited in very clear terms - Bier fortunately hazards no attempt to shy away from or disguise this fact, and the viewer feels less insulted as a result. Naturally, this angle forms the film's central, and ultimate conflict - Jerry simultaneously fights his habit and tries his hardest with Audrey's children, even accidentally upstaging his departed friend in one instance.
This dynamic is a test of the cohesiveness of this new, synthesised unit - Audrey is grief-stricken and angry, and this battles against Jerry's genuine attempts to help her cope with the transition of her new life, and as such aid himself. Together they stand, and divided they fall - Audrey's growing ambivalence causes Jerry to lose his own grip, and this co-dependence is almost systematic in its prevalence - one falters and the other does so almost immediately.
As cinematically accomplished as Things We Lost in the Fire Is, as the situation becomes more depraved, Bier manages to retain a certain grittiness, with our characters briefly foraying into the seedy, drug-addled underbelly of their town. Del Toro's performance is equally gritty and authentic as he attempts to once-and-for-all conquer his demons - his Jerry is as heartbreaking as he is well-acted.
The film does begin to lose its steam in the final scenes, namely with an overly-sentimental dinner scene, yet steamrolls this with one of marked intensity, showcasing Berry's acting chops at their most mature and schooled, thus allowing much-needed catharsis for her character.
By its end, Things We Lost in the Fire does become too bogged down in predictable sentimentality, but in the overall scheme of the narrative, it never takes a melodramatic, or predictable sexualised approach to the friendship between Jerry and Audrey. This is a story of friendship, overcoming demons, and coping with loss - nothing more sensationalised than that.
An Oscar contender this film should not be considered, yet it still retains a noted authenticity, as well as allowing Berry in particular to deliver one of the finest acting roles of her career. This film is compelling thanks to its avoidance of contrivances that lesser films would have exploited, and should be commended for that.
Halle Berry is a great actress when she wants to be, yet has encountered a distinct poverty of meaty roles in recent years, instead opting for high-budget, high-concept studio pictures. Alas, "Things We Lost in the Fire" is something of a salvation for the actress who performed so memorably in Monsters Ball. Alongside the ever-brilliant Benicio Del Toro, Berry reminds us here that she can add dimension to a character, herein conveying an unrestrained sense of heartbreak with maturity and fiery zest.
The central theme of the film is coping, and moreover, surmounting one's problems, as Audrey Burke (Berry) experiences the irredeemable loss of her husband, Steven (Duchovny). Audrey is struggling to deal with her loss, even neglecting to let people know of the tragedy. The picture Bier paints is a highly authentic depiction of the fallout surrounding catastrophic loss, and amazingly, she also succeeds in engaging the viewer.
Jerry Sunborne (Del Toro), a long-time friend of Steven's, is a picture of depravity himself - a Heroin addict, yet, particularly in his interactions with Steven and Audrey's children, is a rather likable fellow. Del Toro narrowly manages to sidestep the clichéd "addict with a heart of gold" routine, remaining just distant enough to rouse a little unease.
At Steven's wake, and through a series of flashbacks, we gather the impression, at least at first, that he was nothing short of a Saint, and enjoyed a flawlessly happy family life. Fortunately, Bier employs the good sense to add layers to this dynamic, introducing a conflicting force, who happens to be Jerry himself. Steven was relentless in helping Jerry quit drugs, even visiting him at the sacrifice of his own family's happiness. In his life, Steven was wedged firmly between his decades-long friendship, and his family - it's a conundrum which spins the web that the rest of the film clings to.
Naturally, the death of Steven, the only stabilising force in his life, hits Jerry hard, violently knocking him off of the wagon. Furthermore, this occurs at a time at which Audrey, who seems to have few, if any friends, needs an emotional crutch - her family life is extremely strained, and she needs Jerry as an outlet, yet he is himself battling the uphill struggle of recovery.
In what is a materially strange spin, Audrey asks Jerry to move into the house, and in an even more bizarre spin, Audrey isn't offering it as charity - she is in fact taking charity from Jerry, who offers his company to help rebuild her life, and vicariously, rebuild his own.
As such, Bier, with all the subtlety of a mortar strike, postulates the possibility of Jerry becoming a surrogate patriarch to this now-fractured family unit. Thus, there is the standoff - two down-and-outters attempting to rebuild their lives, whilst one battles a drug addiction and the other the constrictions of raising a family.
The relationship between Jerry and Audrey is an incredibly curious one - she almost seems to use him at times, at one point quite literally utilising him as a substitute for her husband. Does Jerry feel as though he's betraying his deceased friend? Even though there's little-to-no sexual tension, the situation is unabatedly awkward, and it's clear what is ticking over in Jerry's mind. Curiously, though, Audrey brings Jerry his clothes, as well as breakfast every morning, and perhaps she feels the need to fill the void left by her widowdom.
The idea of Jerry serving as a surrogate is posited in very clear terms - Bier fortunately hazards no attempt to shy away from or disguise this fact, and the viewer feels less insulted as a result. Naturally, this angle forms the film's central, and ultimate conflict - Jerry simultaneously fights his habit and tries his hardest with Audrey's children, even accidentally upstaging his departed friend in one instance.
This dynamic is a test of the cohesiveness of this new, synthesised unit - Audrey is grief-stricken and angry, and this battles against Jerry's genuine attempts to help her cope with the transition of her new life, and as such aid himself. Together they stand, and divided they fall - Audrey's growing ambivalence causes Jerry to lose his own grip, and this co-dependence is almost systematic in its prevalence - one falters and the other does so almost immediately.
As cinematically accomplished as Things We Lost in the Fire Is, as the situation becomes more depraved, Bier manages to retain a certain grittiness, with our characters briefly foraying into the seedy, drug-addled underbelly of their town. Del Toro's performance is equally gritty and authentic as he attempts to once-and-for-all conquer his demons - his Jerry is as heartbreaking as he is well-acted.
The film does begin to lose its steam in the final scenes, namely with an overly-sentimental dinner scene, yet steamrolls this with one of marked intensity, showcasing Berry's acting chops at their most mature and schooled, thus allowing much-needed catharsis for her character.
By its end, Things We Lost in the Fire does become too bogged down in predictable sentimentality, but in the overall scheme of the narrative, it never takes a melodramatic, or predictable sexualised approach to the friendship between Jerry and Audrey. This is a story of friendship, overcoming demons, and coping with loss - nothing more sensationalised than that.
An Oscar contender this film should not be considered, yet it still retains a noted authenticity, as well as allowing Berry in particular to deliver one of the finest acting roles of her career. This film is compelling thanks to its avoidance of contrivances that lesser films would have exploited, and should be commended for that.