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George Clooney about to head Up in the Air in Reitman's brilliant bitter-sweet comedy |
Director: Jason Reitman
Cast: George Clooney (Ryan Bingham), Anna Kendrick (Natalie
Keener), Vera Farmiga (Alex Goran), Jason Bateman (Craig Gregory), Amy Morton
(Kara Bingham), Melanie Lynskey (Julie Bingham), Danny McBride (Jim Miller),
Zach Galifianakis (Steve), JK Simmons (Bob), Sam Elliott (Marnard Finch), Tamala
Jones (Karen Barnes)
One of the worst days in your life can be the day you lose
your job. The uncertainty, the insecurity, the sudden feeling of no longer
knowing what the future holds – it hurts. Imagine, however, if you were the
other side of the equation. What if it was your job to actually tell other
people they no longer had a job?
Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) works for a Human Resources
consultancy company who specialises in firing people for companies. Ryan spends
his life flying from company to company across America, fires thousands of
people a year, and gives motivational speeches promoting his ideology of no
relationships with people or possessions. His relationships are on-the-road
flirtations, in particular with one of his female counterparts Alex Goran (Vera
Farmiga). However, Ryan’s world is facing threat: his company has hired young,
ambitious Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), and wants to introduce a video
conferencing system to conduct firings remotely. Ryan argues Natalie knows
nothing about the ‘human element’ of his job, and she joins him on the road to find
out more.
Up in the Air is a
marvellous, perfectly formed, small-scale film: thought-provoking, endearing,
with plenty of laughs as well as an air of bittersweet sadness. It manages to
focus on all its issues and themes equally without short-changing any of them,
and leaves you feeling rewarded and rich at its end. There are moments in there
that will make you cry, make you laugh but also make you a little angry.
Reitman never insults your intelligence though: he presents things as they are
and trusts you to make the judgements you want to make. It’s quite simply wonderful,
a little masterpiece of cinema.
It’s also a wonderful film of its time, which very
deliberately doesn’t shy away from the brutality of the economic climate so
much of its plot focuses on. Reitman used a series of talking heads of real
people who really had gone through meetings exactly like this, and their
emotional, very real reactions to losing their jobs gives the picture a profound
depth.
Up in the Air doesn’t
take the easy route of condemning Ryan’s work. Sure our sympathies are
naturally with those losing their jobs, but Ryan isn’t a heartless shark. He
genuinely feels he is there to support people: his principal objection to the
video conferencing is it removes the human element from an extremely difficult
moment in people’s lives. He has platitudes, and smooth professionalism, but also
a brilliant understanding of people and he gets so close to appearing that he
cares deeply about people’s lives (even if he can’t remember them days later)
it’s as near as damn it to counting. Watch the scene where he fires JK Simmons’
character – he’s read Simmons’ CV, gently questions why Simmons is working
anyway at a company he hates and encourages him to follow his dream of becoming
a chef. Sure it’s about defusing a situation – but to Ryan it’s also about
helping a person see possible future steps, if only for a moment.
It’s such a brilliant snapshot of how Ryan can analyse in
seconds what might encourage a person to find greater depth in their lives,
that you forget for a moment that Ryan prides himself on having nothing. His
flat is a facelessly cold place, which looks less welcoming (and cheaper and
colder) than the hotel rooms he stays in. He’s never happier than when in a VIP
lounge. He proudly lives out of a suitcase perfectly sized to avoid checking
bags. His motivational career stresses the aim of getting everything that
matters to you in the world into a backpack. He has no friends, he’s a stranger
to his family, no fixed abode (he spends over 320 days a year travelling). He
shares a few painful minutes with people and then never sees them again.
This might just be the part Clooney was born to play: his
handsome, slightly smug grin, his studied chuckles, his slight air of blankness
behind his good looks are perfect for Ryan’s surface, but Clooney’s great gift
as an actor is the emotional weight and depth he is able to show beneath this
veneer as soon as it is scratched. He’s a marvellous physical actor – watch his
growing flirtatious ease with Alex turn into a comfy affection. He understands
the psychology of Ryan completely and never judges him: he can see why Ryan
does what he does, and why it works for him. His performance gives Ryan the
dignity of his convictions, doesn’t present with any inch of satire Ryan’s
feeling that his job is partly about helping people. Even the slightest touch
of distance from the part would have shattered the film’s delicate equilibrium
– Clooney doesn’t do it for a second.
Of course, drama means Ryan is thrown into situations that
challenge this way of thinking, not least his relationship with Alex (essentially
the female version of himself). Vera Farmiga is outstanding as a woman with a
very male outlook on the world. Perhaps because they share so much, their
relationship grows from a sexually charged flirtation (a brilliantly shot and
edited sequence in a VIP lounge) into one that increasingly becomes more and
more tender. The film dangles before us and Ryan the option for a new way of
life – but it doesn’t lie to us about the nature of either of these people. The
relationship doesn’t develop the way we expect – and in fact it becomes a
commentary in its own way on the very same future prospects Ryan spends his
life selling the people he fires, that despair is a gateway to future
opportunity.
Anna Kendrick’s Natalie comes at the world of firing from
our ruthless modern age – how can we do this faster, quicker and cheaper? Let’s
put together a framework for all conversations, let’s do it remotely, let’s use
as many buzzwords and platitudes as we can. While Ryan’s work (to him) is all
about not forgetting you need to guide an actual human being through without
them getting angry or upset, for Anna it’s a simple progression from A to B.
Kendrick’s wonderful performance is all about unpeeling these layers. As she
finds out first-hand what the job involves, so we discover she is a far more
sensitive, “normal” person than we expect, someone who can’t see the logic
behind Ryan’s world-view.
And the film asks Ryan to look at the logic of this world
view as well. Everything he expresses at the start of the film comes under fire.
Change threatens to make him as redundant as the people he fires. His growing
closeness to Alex challenge his ideas about commitment (“we fall in love with
pricks and are then surprised when they are pricks” Alex comments, something
the film explores late on). The impending marriage of his sister – and the
realisation of the complete lack of presence he has in his family’s lives –
makes him start to think about the strength of his rootless existence.
But the film doesn’t hammer these points home, it juggles
them all perfectly within its framework of looking at corporate America today. In
a world where people are increasingly becoming faceless numbers on a
spreadsheet, is it surprising so many need a faceless man to do the firing for
them? Travel has made the world smaller, but also our lives smaller – like Ryan
we can be everywhere and nowhere. Up in
the Air is a sad and tender film, but one which leaves a kernel of hope
somewhere – there are moments that make you think there are opportunities for
change and rebirth. Sure it might be pulling the same trick Ryan does, but if
so that’s smart – and shows what a good trick it is. Up in the Air is a hell of a movie, and Reitman is one hell of a
director.
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