If you are looking for the sense in the plot of “Edmond”, you shouldn’t. David Mamet’s play in 1982 takes its form over screen for that crazy night the title character Edmond (William H. Macy) hunts on in deep and drenched streets of debauchery, violence and emptiness. The plot is a tool for the philosophy and the boredom of human life. The existence and consequences are constantly questioned in the screenplay of Mamet. Directed by Stuart Gordon, “Edmond” is a ride which has ramblings and rejuvenation of soul side to side.
The dialogues are the elements of keen importance in a story of frustrated man. He repeats again and again that how much his 47 years of life has been numbed. Following a sign over a number “115” in various forms, he begins to undress the courtesy, commitments, compassion and consideration. That leads him to a fortune teller (Frances Bay). Based on that, his thinking makes to leave his wife (Rebecca Pidgeon) as the first act towards expunging his emptiness. He hits a bar to get his lesson from a man (Joe Mantegna) sipping carefully his alcohol while pricking in a friendly gesture of discussion on the burden of life.
Edmond takes his body and soul in desperate determination of searching for sexual pleasure, of course for cheap. “It’s too much” he often says and he is a well paid man. This leads him further and further spiraling for feeling alive. He is beaten, robbed and humiliated but the hurt is not letting him down. It frustrates him but does not stop him to rethink his decisions. “American Beauty” had Lester Burham’s enlightenment in getting alive again through his pursuit towards the fantasy of sleeping with his daughter’s friend. Sexual goals become the evaluating tool to wiggle his senses in depression, frustration and inane presence.
Edmond is confused and wanted to have a clear understanding on the things happening in this world. We all do the thought and have a nice sometimes sound discussion over the monotonous events of our life and curse some, drink some and obviously return to the uneventful labour of the existence. Edmond has had enough. He takes it forward. He feels his skin and its control of power through a knife beating through a guy who tries to mug him. He is excited and the adrenaline rush lights his brain and may be even fry too. He walks in a restaurant and declares his desire to sleep with the waitress (Julia Stiles). Next thing he is in her apartment spitting his realizations. His eruption of revelation which gets the attention mellows down and gets out through the young girl. He is freed and he needs some one to listen, even if it is a spark of garbage fed as philosophy.
William H. Macy is the man for Edmond. He is geeky, neat, shy and bored. The weariness is in his eyes and the regular man in a managerial role beating in his head on his life, devoid of sensation is taken through by him into this complex man. It is a role of confused but not an insane. Macy has delivered perplexed individual many times at comfort but here the confusion misses and touches in whiskers with insanity. The film grins on us and we expect at any moment Edmond waking up in his own bed or desolated place and everything is a dream. Does Edmond want that too? The film asks us. The end is not the answer but there does not need to be one.
By any measure this is not a great film. It is a simple good film which smartly survives on its writing and the moody nightly streets of this relaxed chaos we all have encountered. The film is dark, comedic, satirical and philosophical but if it is reveling, it might not be. And it does not intend it to be. As Edmond flurries in short bursts of discovery on life, the moment is seized and we pleasure in that as him. But it leaves us muddled as it is been focused and accept the film as the play which carried its writing ingeniousness to keep us occupied in a peculiar way. “Edmond” might not be for every one but it sure is for me.
The dialogues are the elements of keen importance in a story of frustrated man. He repeats again and again that how much his 47 years of life has been numbed. Following a sign over a number “115” in various forms, he begins to undress the courtesy, commitments, compassion and consideration. That leads him to a fortune teller (Frances Bay). Based on that, his thinking makes to leave his wife (Rebecca Pidgeon) as the first act towards expunging his emptiness. He hits a bar to get his lesson from a man (Joe Mantegna) sipping carefully his alcohol while pricking in a friendly gesture of discussion on the burden of life.
Edmond takes his body and soul in desperate determination of searching for sexual pleasure, of course for cheap. “It’s too much” he often says and he is a well paid man. This leads him further and further spiraling for feeling alive. He is beaten, robbed and humiliated but the hurt is not letting him down. It frustrates him but does not stop him to rethink his decisions. “American Beauty” had Lester Burham’s enlightenment in getting alive again through his pursuit towards the fantasy of sleeping with his daughter’s friend. Sexual goals become the evaluating tool to wiggle his senses in depression, frustration and inane presence.
Edmond is confused and wanted to have a clear understanding on the things happening in this world. We all do the thought and have a nice sometimes sound discussion over the monotonous events of our life and curse some, drink some and obviously return to the uneventful labour of the existence. Edmond has had enough. He takes it forward. He feels his skin and its control of power through a knife beating through a guy who tries to mug him. He is excited and the adrenaline rush lights his brain and may be even fry too. He walks in a restaurant and declares his desire to sleep with the waitress (Julia Stiles). Next thing he is in her apartment spitting his realizations. His eruption of revelation which gets the attention mellows down and gets out through the young girl. He is freed and he needs some one to listen, even if it is a spark of garbage fed as philosophy.
William H. Macy is the man for Edmond. He is geeky, neat, shy and bored. The weariness is in his eyes and the regular man in a managerial role beating in his head on his life, devoid of sensation is taken through by him into this complex man. It is a role of confused but not an insane. Macy has delivered perplexed individual many times at comfort but here the confusion misses and touches in whiskers with insanity. The film grins on us and we expect at any moment Edmond waking up in his own bed or desolated place and everything is a dream. Does Edmond want that too? The film asks us. The end is not the answer but there does not need to be one.
By any measure this is not a great film. It is a simple good film which smartly survives on its writing and the moody nightly streets of this relaxed chaos we all have encountered. The film is dark, comedic, satirical and philosophical but if it is reveling, it might not be. And it does not intend it to be. As Edmond flurries in short bursts of discovery on life, the moment is seized and we pleasure in that as him. But it leaves us muddled as it is been focused and accept the film as the play which carried its writing ingeniousness to keep us occupied in a peculiar way. “Edmond” might not be for every one but it sure is for me.
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