The Hours was interesting. Set in three different time periods, it attempted to connect all the women in equally depressive/oppressive environments. The environment is most poignant, perhaps, in the case of the LA woman, the mother of Richard. She goes farthest, and attains her freedom most completely of all the women. Virginia Woolf kills herself--partly some form of insanity, partly (maybe mostly) the life she leads. All the women seem to be stuck. Most obviously Mrs. Woolf, also the Julianne Moore person; Meryll Streep's character was harder to discern. Her life is horrible and she plans parties to ignore the silence pervading in her life. All the women had awkward relationships with awkward silences--however, the first two women escaped theirs. Meryll Streep remained, with a fully grown daughter and a partner. Her and her partner's relationship seemed as strained and...stuck as the others.
In an attempt to make sense of everything i just laid out, the purpose of the movie came when Richard asked: "what do you do with all the hours? the hours after, the hours in the morning?" or something to that effect. Being scarred by some event, in this case emotional, what do you do with the remaining hours of your life? Is it your life? When did your life not become yours anymore--when did you lose control of your life? In answer of this, Mrs. Woolf kills herself, Julianne Moore saves herself and runs away--from traditional responsibilities of the wife, the kids and the husband. Meryll Streep didn't have a husband, she had a wife-sort of, and maybe she didn't have any physical thing to escape. But there is that void--the reason she is Mrs. Dalloway. That part of the movie I couldn't really figure, and I'm not saying it was a great movie, or that I'll bother to watch it again. Actually, I don't know if I have anything more to say.
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I had to view this film for another class and, needless to say in the following response, I too am not anxious to view this film again in the immediate future, or for the rest of my life for that matter:
Well, I can honestly say that I have never been as infuriated with any film I have ever seen up until I saw The Hours. Watching the lives of these three women play out on screen was an exercise in extreme patience as I listened to their plights and came close to screaming in agony. I’ve rarely ever seen such lack of interest in life in anyone. While I thought Julianne Moore’s story was the most infuriating to watch, it was the Virginia Woolf portion of the film that made me rethink my intentions to become an English major. A little while ago in another class, we asked the question focusing on authors of yesteryear. Was it a must to have a crappy childhood then go insane in order to become on of the greatest literary minds of all time? Apparently, and that is why I have such disdain for a lot of the authors we talk about in most English classes today. But this was different; this was the moment that made me snap with disgust. Towards the end of the film, she tells her husband that “someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more.” This was complete stupidity to me. Death, of course, can be life altering, but if this film taught me one thing it is this: watching the sad and depressing lives of these women unfold on screen made me appreciate my life a lot more than I did right before I watched the film. To simply give up and let go, like several characters in this film did, a la Ed Harris and eventually Virginia Woolf, is something that really ticks me off. The will to live is a much more fulfilling goal and worthwhile battle, with surrender not even being an option. If I could have my way, I would avoid this film for the rest of my life…at least Meryl Streep’s story had a somewhat decent ending (or at least she had the same reaction I would picture myself having if I had a girlfriend as just watched this film).
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