Kathy Bates

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret

10/05/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I was an avid reader as a child, so of course I devoured Judy Blume’s novels. Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret was the first one I chanced upon in our village library, its long title drawing my eye. I’d never seen a book with a name like that before, and – I soon realised as I scanned the blurb – I’d never read one that dealt with such subjects either. Periods, bras and… God?

I wasn’t especially interested in the God stuff. I don’t think that has as much resonance here in Britain as it does in Blume’s native USA; we’re a much more secular place, and there are loads of kids in every classroom who don’t know or care what religion they are. Periods, however, and breast acquisition: they were just as relevant in my Welsh primary school as in Margaret’s New Jersey one.

Blume’s novels work because she doesn’t trivialise kids’ experiences. Sure, menstruation and supportive underwear soon lose their allure and become mundane once you’ve got them, but when you’re young and they’re ahead of you, their mystery looms large.

Writer/director Kelly Fremon Craig’s adaptation is faithful to its source material, and bound to be a smash with the novel’s ninety-million readers. It’s a simple tale: the eponymous Margaret (Abby Ryder Fortson) is eleven years old and living her best life. She’s just enjoyed a fun time at summer camp, and is excited to be returning home to her family in New York – her mom, Barbara (Rachel McAdams), her dad, Herb (Benny Safdie), and her Grandma, Sylvia (Kathy Bates). As far as Margaret and Sylvia are concerned, things are fine exactly the way they are – but Barbara and Herb have other ideas. They want to move out of their cramped apartment to a house in the suburbs, where Herb has found a better job, and Barbara can try out being a stay-at-home-mom.

At first, life in New Jersey seems okay. Precocious pre-teen Nancy (whose verve and sparkle is marvellously captured by Elle Graham) makes a beeline for Margaret, and invites her to join her friendship group. Unlike Margaret’s old friends, these girls are obsessed with growing up, and she is soon initiated into a world of body-consciousness and crushes, not to mention fashion rules. “No socks!” says Nancy, “And you have to wear a bra!”

Margaret follows obediently, although she’s not entirely on board. She’s still trying to figure out who she is. Herb is Jewish and Barbara is Christian, and they’ve never taken Margaret to any kind of church, telling her she can choose her own path when she’s old enough. So when her new teacher suggests she might research different religions for her sixth-grade project, Margaret is intrigued. Maybe this way she’ll find some of the answers she needs. And so she embarks on her quest, visiting the synagogue with Sylvia, a Presbyterian church with her pal, Janie (Amari Alexis Price), a Methodist church with Nancy and a Catholic confessional with her classmate, Laura (Isol Young). But God proves elusive, and Margaret eventually realises there are some problems she needs to sort out on her own…

This is a delightful movie, the characterisations bold but convincing, avoiding easy caricature. Fortson is perfectly cast as Margaret, imbuing her with just the right amount of self-consciousness and uncertainty. Bates shines as the slightly overbearing Sylvia, entirely redeemed by her devotion to her granddaughter, while McAdams exudes kindness and sensitivity. It’s a slight tale, but it’s beautifully told, and I’m taken right back to my own childhood. As a piece of nostalgia, it absolutely works, but I’m sure its appeal is wider than that. Today’s adolescents are bound to love it too.

4. 4 stars

Susan Singfield

Richard Jewell

(L-r) NINA ARIANDA as Nadya Light and SAM ROCKWELL as Watson Bryant in Warner Bros. Pictures’ “RICHARD JEWELL,” a Warner Bros. Pictures release. Photo by Claire Folger/Warner Bros.

14/01/19

We’re only two weeks into the new year, yet we’re already on our third excoriating movie exposé of a corrupt American justice system. Appalled? Yes. Saddened? Yes. Surprised? Not so much. Not any more.

Richard Jewell is the story of a hapless security guard, the focus of an intense FBI and media investigation. His crime? Discovering a bomb and alerting the authorities. But lazy  stereotyping (‘he’s a bit of an oddball and he lives with his mom’) is enough to convince the forces-that-be that Jewell is the perpetrator, responsible for two deaths and more than a hundred injuries, despite a lack of any evidence whatsoever. And, once that suspicion is leaked to the press, Jewell loses control of his life.

Paul Walter Hauser gives us a convincing portrayal of a decent man driven almost to despair. He portrays Jewell as utterly sincere – a naïve, mild-natured, over-zealous employee, a stickler for the rules. His mother, Bobi (Kathy Bates), has always taught him to respect authority, and Jewell has absolute faith in law and order. He is devastated when it proves to be a phoney, a façade.

Sam Rockwell plays Watson Bryant, the real estate lawyer who comes to Jewell’s rescue (in real life, Bryant employed a team to help him; here – for the sake of a stronger storyline – he goes it alone). It’s a terrific performance, giving us a real sense of the man’s selfishness and impatience as well as his deep-rooted morality. Thank goodness for Bryant; I dread to think what might have happened to Jewell if he hadn’t once worked in the same building and earned the man’s respect. Without representation, who knows?

It’s so depressing. How can a so-called mature democracy have a justice system that is so blatantly unfair, where guilt or innocence is decided by how much money an individual has, or by the colour of their skin, or by how desperate the law enforcers are to meet their targets? And Eastwood’s film delivers this message well.

A shame, then, that the women’s roles are so reductive, and that real-life AJC news reporter Kathy Scruggs (Olivia Wilde) is depicted as having slept her way to success. It’s an evidence-free stereotype as offensive and pervasive as the one the movie exposes.

It’s not the film’s only fault. Billy Ray’s script is somewhat pedestrian – long-winded in places – and the cinematography a little murky but, nevertheless, taken in conjunction with Seberg and Just Mercy, this amounts to a searing condemnation of a broken institution.

3.5 stars

Susan Singfield