The Big Chill (1983)

A surprising Oscar's BEST PICTURE nominee, writer/director Lawrence Kasdan's sophomore feature THE BIG CHILL focuses on a weekend reunion of seven 30-something alumni of the University of Michigan, 15 years after leaving the ivory tower, but what convenes them together is anything but jovial, their friend Alex's shocking suicide. The overhanging question shrouds the cohort of eight, joined by Chloe, Alex's much younger girlfriend, is what is the reason behind Alex's given up on his life, but like Alex himself, whom we are not privileged to see in his physical form (Kevin Costner is cast as Alex but all his scenes with his facial appearance are left in the editing room), it is elusive and open-ended, it might be just as well a spur-of-the-moment decision out of depression. In lieu of solving the mystery, Kasdan takes in his stride to examine the sophisticated interrelations among our subjects, who begin to introspect their own feelings in the aftermath through gingerly disposed small talks and congenial interactions infrequently salted with discord and liaisons. Pivoted around a ballast of camaraderie, nothing egregiously dark will emerge to tickle a cynical mind, Sarah (a radiant and Oscar-nominated Glenn Close in the mode of a good wife/mother which in retrospect appears at a premium in her tracking record) admits that she had an affair with Alex, which unfortunately dampens their friendship, before marrying Harold (Kevin Kline, full of panache), the ultimate version of an understanding and competent husband, who has no qualms at the bidding of her wife to become an inseminator of Meg (Mary Kay Place, embodies the career woman stereotype with considerable pizazz and tizzy), who adopts a modern view of independence and plans to become a single mother of her own accord when the biological clock starts ticking. As per the likability quotient of their characters, in the descending order, the next-in-line is Karen (JoBeth Williams, a fine performance), a housewife forgoes her writing dreams to raise her children and gets bored with her stagnant marriage, the reunion tantalizingly rekindles her romance with her old admirer Sam (Tom Berenger, emits a refreshing air of forthright amiability and attractive unassumingness before being typecast in the villain compartment, for keeps), a well-known TV actor in L.A., divorced but sagacious enough not to wreck a family just for the old time's sake (after a mutually desired consummation, of course). Then the only new blood, Chloe (a lissom Meg Tilly channeling a less convincing orbit wobbling between a barmy nymphet and a post-traumatic soul), takes a liking to Nick (William Hurt, tangibly tackling the most complex character here with searing precision), a Porsche-riding, pill-popping Vietnam veteran who has no place called home and stigmatized by impotence, whose defeatist outlook cuts through the sweeping but bland melancholia like a scalpel, before receding to its residing harbor in the well-intentioned but anodyne ending. Finally, Michael (a jaunty Jeff Goldblum) is a People Magazine's writer who seeks both a new career opportunity and some carnal dalliance, falls between those two stools at length, nevertheless his can-do spirit is always in full swing to bring exuberance. A cracking ensemble piece punctuated by a potpourri of hit parade ear-worms, THE BIG CHILL enthralls viewers with its fabricated spontaneity, palpable warmth and liberating candor, yet as a matter of fact, there is a discerning aftertaste apropos of the elephant-in-the-room: "Who is this enigmatic, gone but not forgotten Alex and what drives him to his undoing?", after all, is it a tactful circumvention as an enigma is better left in lacunae or a flagrant glossing-over in favor of something less perturbing? The jury is out, seemly.

I was a college kid when I first saw this movie. I was a college kid at a University for 10 years and have nothing to show for it. But I did see this movie, and by the media gods it told a lot about life.Back then it told me that People magazine was on the path to the shark that everything must jump. It told me that the really good interviews were those given in the past. That is kind of scary, really when you think about it and then live your life.Now, I am contemplating watching it again and I have not seen it since then. The reason for this is about the long slow walk to the shark that I must jump and about interviews in the past being a lot better than any thing I have to say now....

***sort of plot spoilers, broadly speaking*** I think a more accurate synopsis of this movie is: seven old college friends get together over the funeral of one of their cohorts. They each center themselves amidst the tragedy of the suicide of their friend, i.e. "it's all about me, b/c I should have...." They reminisce over their convictions when in college as compared to now. They realize they're sell outs but agree they are okay with it. The one person in the group who reminds them how cushy they've always had it gets chastised for so doing while everyone else agrees they're all still good people. Everyone ends up happy because they all have money to continue pursuing their own interests. Meg Tilly's character complements the self-serving dialogue of the others with unpretentious, guileless candor. The movie attempts to convey the bittersweet-ness/ sadness/ realization that the white baby boomers who grew up privileged and "came of age" during the 1960's~ a time of social consciousness and change ~ really did not carry those same convictions into their post college lives, and they must face this. A star-studded, entertaining movie w/ a cool soundtrack, but definitely told from a privileged POV.

I would have given this a 7 20 years ago, but it hasn't worn that well with me. The basic point of the story, that this could be you and your group of friends (and probably will be one day), is not lost. Many have already experienced a similar situation. Everyone raves about the music, and while there is no doubt it is good, this is where I have my largest bone to pick. The overly clichéd use of most of these songs is unforgivable. "Bad Moon Rising", in fact, makes the leap from cliché to utterly absurd. Add in the fact that Glenn Close has never done a thing for me, and a 6 is generous I'd say