Mark Reviews Movies: GLORIA BELL

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Review by Mark Dujsik | March 22, 2019

Some things become more explicit in writer/director Sebastián Lelio's Gloria Bell, an Americanized remake of his 2013 film, which was simply titled Gloria. This isn't a bad thing, though, because so much about this character is to be inferred from her actions, her relationships, her contradictions, what others say about her in sly ways, and what she doesn't say outright. The character in the original seemed a bit like a puzzle, if only because we were never sure if Lelio wanted us to believe in her as much as she believed in herself. We did, though, and we do here—perhaps even more.

Part of that easier sympathy for the character comes from Julianne Moore's performance, which so effortlessly communicates a constant battle between self-worth and doubt. That's the key to understanding Gloria Bell, the character, and it's much more obvious in this adaptation, written by Lelio and co-adapted with Alice Johnson Boher. Because the character is the key to the film, that also makes it easier to see Gloria as both the protagonist and the antagonist of her story of mid-life reflection, uncertainty, conflict, and, perhaps at the very end, at least a little revelation.

Despite achieving a bit more clarity, the film is still a beat-for-beat remake, although Lelio has evolved as a filmmaker in the five years since the original. This version is set in Los Angeles, and the director takes full advantage of the shift in scenery, as well as the shifts in scenery within that bigger change. Gloria's first appearance is inside a neon-lit nightclub, where disco music blasts while men and women of her age drink, mingle, flirt, and, naturally, dance as if only people who remember disco are watching.

She's at home here—a fact that she keeps from those who know her and almost apologizes for when someone, using that old pick-up line, asks if she goes there often. The first two scenes of the film establish a bold dichotomy for the character, but it's so subtle that we might not really notice it. At the club, she's comfortable by herself and even more comfortable in the company of others, especially any man who asks her to dance—a request she always answers affirmatively.

At home, though, she's alone and annoyed by the repeated visitation of a hairless cat from a neighboring apartment. Her upstairs neighbor is causing a ruckus with himself. She thinks he's on the verge of a breakdown. It takes a while for her to make a late-night call to the man's mother, her landlady, to express her concern. There's something just a little cruel in how she expresses her annoyance, telling the woman that, as a mother herself, she's worried about the young man, before holding the phone out the window so that the man's mother can hear his tormented cries. There's something false about her concern, given how she only thinks of it when the man is keeping her awake at night.

Gloria is like that, though—a little fake, a little passive-aggressive, a little too self-involved. She's divorced, and her adult children, Peter (Michael Cera) and Anne (Caren Pistorius), don't call as often she would like. She makes a bit of a guilt-trippy show of it when she calls them at work, leaving messages that she's busy but can take a call from them at any point. The implication, of course, is that, if she can take some time out of her busy life to answer a call, surely they can spare a little time to make the call in the first place.

The central relationship here is between Gloria and Arnold (John Turturro), a man she meets at the club one night. They hit it off well, laughing and dancing (This is when Gloria walks back her more honest statements about her life, so as not to seem too lonely or dependent on the club as a source of fulfillment). They spend the night together, and a few days later, Arnold calls to ask her on a date.

Like Gloria, he's divorced, although his ex-wife and two adult daughters depend on him financially and in various other ways. The romance begins sweetly, but the repeated interruptions of their time together from Arnold's daughters clearly starts to annoy Gloria.

She's also suspicious because Arnold hasn't mentioned her to his family. Gloria is more than willing to bring Arnold along to Peter's birthday party, where she sees her ex-husband Dustin (Brad Garrett) for the first time in years. One of the significant adjustments to this scene in the new version is that Lelio's camera is more attentive to Arnold, whose discomfort in the situation becomes painfully apparent to us—but not to Gloria.

It's at this point in the story when we might turn a bit on our protagonist, because a pattern has emerged. Gloria must always be, if not the center, then a significant focal point of attention. She feeds on it, and Moore's performance is subtle enough that we might only catch a tiny glimpse of self-satisfaction when she gains that attention. Note the way she ignores Arnold's calls after the party, instead of simply answering and explaining why she's hurt, and also notice the point at which she does answer one of those phone calls—when she thinks there's nothing or no one else left in her life.

Lelio, again, has made a film that's about just-perceivable observations, until Gloria arrives at a point when she actually has nothing left. Gloria Bell finds the fault in the character's way of looking at herself, other people, and the purpose of her life, but just as the dissection of this character is understated but complex, so, too, is the film's final hope for her.

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