In the first instalment of a new series of articles highlighting films that have you might have missed, Charles Rivington tackles Todd Solondz’s controversial 1998 ensemble piece, Happiness.

 I want to start by stating quite simply that Todd Solondz’s Happiness is not for everyone. It seems odd to say this given that I am meant to be encouraging you to watch it but I feel compelled to tell you that there is a good chance that you will hate Happiness. I have shown Happiness to a large number of friends and while half of them

       

Philip Seymour Hoffman and Lara Flynn Boyle form an unlikely bond in Happiness

have loved it and raved about it (never the ones you expect), the other half have branded it ‘tasteless’, ‘disgusting’ and ‘immoral’.  These people aren’t bible-bashers or Daily Mail readers either, they are well rounded and open-minded and yet they still take moral umbrage with this film. To be honest it’s not hard to see where they are coming from. Happiness presents us with a veritable smorgasbord of deviant and disturbing behaviour: sexual abuse, suicide, murder, masturbation, dismemberment and, most prominently and most upsettingly, child rape. And yet it if you can cope with these issues being discussed and alluded to in a film (for the most part they occur mercifully off-screen), Happiness is a brutally funny, unexpectedly moving and thoroughly rewarding experience.

The structure of Happiness is clearly inspired by Chekhov’s Three Sisters (also the inspiration for  Woody Allen’s brilliant, Hannah and Sisters which may well be the subject of a future ‘Have you seen…’). Happiness centres around three adult sisters, their families and neighbours who all live in a nightmarish version of New Jersey that would  even make a ‘real housewife’ rather uncomfortable. Trish (Cynthia Stevenson), the eldest sister is a smug suburban housewife and mother whose psychiatrist husband, Bill (a spellbinding turn from Dylan Baker) has developed a secret obsession with his eleven-year-old son’s classmate. Helen (Lara Flynn Boyle) is a famous poet who has become disillusioned with her success, leading her to fantasise about being raped. The youngest daughter, the ironically named Joy (a charmingly pathetic Jane Adams) is a meek, dormouse of a woman whose love life and singing career are equally as dead in the water, eliciting the smug sympathy of her more successful siblings. Rounding out the cast are Louise Lasser and Ben Gazarra as the sisters’ divorcing parents, Camryn Manheim as an overweight woman who ‘hates sex’ and a pre-fame Philip Seymour Hoffman delivering a hilariously repugnant performance as Helen’s lonely and sexually deviant neighbour.

While outlining the film’s plot above in such a perfunctory manner suggests that Solondz is merely attempting to provoke shock for the sake of shock (and there is clearly an element of this), Happiness’s success lies in its handling of these controversial issues and horrifically flawed characters, not only with blistering humour, but also with alarming sensitivity, compassion even . The is most striking in Dylan Baker’s masterful performance as Bill, a child rapist and the centre of the film’s most controversial and disturbing plot strand. While Bill’s actions in the film are despicable and calculated and I’d be loathe to go as far as to describe him as sympathetic, Solondz’s writing and Baker’s performance at the very least present Bill as being unquestionably human. His humanity is most apparent in a quiet yet pivotal scene  in which Bill confesses his crimes to his young son, Billy (Rufus Reed). The conversation between father and son is both deeply unpleasant and very moving; despite his heinous acts it is clear that Bill loves Billy and can’t bring himself to lie to him. It’s an unbearably painful moment that will sear itself onto your memory and stay with you long after the film is over.

Despite it’s disturbing themes, Solondz also manages to mine a large amount of pitch black humour from the material (Happiness is essentially a comedy, albeit a very dark one) and much of the film is laugh-out-loud hilarious and irresistibly quotable; a personal favourite being the sophisticated Helen insisting to her younger sister that “I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you” to which Jane Adam’s Joy, her eyes wide and watery, meekly replies, “but I’m not laughing”.  Solondz’s cruel sense of humour is apparent right

Jane Adams looking pensive in Happiness

from the off in the film’s fantastic opening scene which depicts a horribly uncomfortable dinner date between the pathetic Joy and her even more pathetic, soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend Andy (Jon Lovitz in a hilarious cameo). This remarkable scene is pretty much self-contained (it feels like a short play) and serves to lull the audience into a false sense of security, deliberately wrong-footing us so that we are ill-prepared for the horrors that await. Even if you don’t feel compelled to watch the film, I would recommend tracking down this one scene as it is very funny.

So there you have it: Happiness, a disturbing, disgusting and hilarious portrait of the dark side of human nature. Whether you immediately add it to your Lovefilm queue or you roll your eyes and close this browser window in disgust is entirely up to you. Happiness is not for everyone and maybe it’s not for you but even if its not can we please all take a minute and appreciate what a good thing that is. In a world where big studios spend all their time and energy chasing the broadest demographics and dumbing movies down in the process, I think we should all be grateful when a film comes along that isn’t ‘fun for all the family’, isn’t patronising, doesn’t talk down to us, is aimed solely at adults and, most importantly, doesn’t have ‘something for everyone’. Thank you Todd Solondz. Thank you Happiness.

Watch the (somewhat misleading) trailer for Happiness here:

Happiness Trailer

And the opening scene:

Happiness Opening