There is something reassuring about talking about mental health in the 21st century. While it is a field that always seeks to grow and understand something more complex, it does feel like we’re living in a more progressive time. To think back over the decades, there were instances where to have any of the major diagnoses is to achieve unwanted astigmatism. Good people were mentally sound. People with depression or anger issues were seen as different, unable to ever be accepted by the general public. Nowadays, there is at least a discussion that’s being had that honestly feels reassuring for how open and healthy it is, removing taboos in favor of something more productive. I can only imagine where the conversation goes in the decades ahead.
What seems strange is that Silver Linings Playbook (2012) was considered to be a major turning point for that conversation. On the one hand, it was hailed as this romantic comedy that deconstructed the tropes by exploring the humanity of two unstable people. There’s definitely plenty to enjoy about it, especially as a Launchpad for Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence. However, having seen it a handful of times now, I don’t know that its views on mental health were all that effective, working more on a surface level than anything substantial underneath. I know there are those who will disagree, but it is a feel-good version of this story, where characters aren’t allowed to be flawed or interesting enough. They were, after all, existing in the throes of romantic comedy tropes first and foremost.
Which makes it exciting to note that I personally find Matthew Quick’s original novel much more satisfying. I do believe that there are still some subversive intentions, but what he does with the premise is much more than understanding why Pat finds this profound connection with Tiffany. I understand on the surface what makes that appealing, especially with Pat’s emotional instability being drawn to the aggression and putdowns following a notorious falling out with his ex. However, Quick understands much clearer what the film wants to skirt by, and what I found was something much more fascinating and rewarding.
The one factor that I feel makes the book superior is how it handles the exploration of sports as its own form of addiction and bonding. It is explored in the film, but I don’t think it’s as clear. Mind you, I am not an NFL fan. I have never found the need to yell with people in a parking lot “E-A-G-L-E-S! Eagles!” However, as a basketball fan, I know that feeling well of rituals, where wearing certain jerseys can instinctually make you feel like the game is going to go well. I recognize the emotional devastation when it goes horribly wrong (The Clippers still owe me for that 3-1 loss in The Bubble!), though I don’t know that I’ve lost sleep over it like Pat.
Still, I recognize how sports work as a bonding tool not only for Pat but for his family. It connects him with his father, to the loyal fans at tailgate parties. There are whole sequences where Quick explores the rituals of going into tents with these people and finding their own form of sanity. It’s brilliant because while I’m sure people have noticed the insanity of sports fanatics, I don’t know that anyone decided to explore the basic correlation between mental health and that dependency on a team winning, where stats become their own therapeutic language. Again, it’s explored in the film, but it feels tangential, mostly setting up for Pat’s occasional outbreaks. It’s nowhere near as dense or satisfying.
Of course, Quick also chooses to paint the whole thing like a diary that unfolds in ways that are brilliant. Sports fanatics may be vulgar with their emotions, but I imagine the stereotype is that deep down they’re insecure and don’t know the proper way to express themselves. They’re in need of that soul searching that one also experiences during a mental breakdown. For Pat, the easiest way is to use pop culture, specifically framing his life like a film where he deconstructs the tropes of his life in hopes of understanding the best ways to get back with his ex.
On the one hand, these are all elements that are meant to be flashy, creating a unique perspective on a familiar mental health story. There’s nothing particularly revolutionary on how his story evolves, getting to the familiar revelations that his obsession needs to give way to healing and eventually moving on. It stumbles out awkwardly, occasionally finding him relapsing and other times making basic revelations that may seem obvious to the reader. This isn’t to say that it doesn’t work, but at its core this is a deconstruction of why we fall in love, finding the real growth of the narrative is about how Pat learns to open himself to others, to be vulnerable and honest with those in his life.
As a psychological text, it’s a bit light. However, if one was to see it as a contemporary view of our relationship to emotions, it’s actually fairly effective. It’s often considered that mental health is something that one suffers from alone, treated as this traumatic incident that is sentimentalized. Pat is far from that archetype, and in fact, feels like someone who is more familiar with the American canon. When he reads a book that Tiffany likes, he tries to understand what she sees in it. His inability to understand sad endings as richly symbolic shows how much he has to learn, finding something much more complex in the human condition. Even in the pages that are mere analysis of other books (be warned, a lot of non-“Silver Linings Playbook” books are spoiled here in search of personal meaning), Quick finds a way to make it work.
The movie could never be as rich simply because it doesn’t work in that medium. Part of the effectiveness is the introspection. Pat gets to go on journeys that don’t forward the story, observing small details that open up small corners of his life. Sure, I think there’s room to argue that the NFL elements could’ve been better highlighted as bonding and rituals, but even that feels like it would sidetrack. The movie wants to be a romantic comedy. The book wants to be so much more, using the various media in our lives to show how we cope and grow, using art to better understand ourselves. When Pat understands a book, there’s something satisfying about it. By the time that he drops the initial narrative gimmick, it feels like a major growth point.
I wouldn’t call this a masterpiece, but a fairly surprising read for how timely it feels. Whereas most books are likely to be more sensitive and diligent to emotional growth, “Silver Linings Playbook” feels natural. Everything that Pat does is indicative of his character, where his love for Tiffany grows in a journalistic form, learning to understand her as well as himself. It’s funny and well-written, challenging the idea of who is impacted by things like bipolarity and anger issues. To be frank, more people are than what the media represents.
To dash faint praise, I always saw Silver Linings Playbook as a movie where director David O. Selznick was trying to atone for his own public struggles with anger. If you go through his production history, he’s got a few notorious stories that he’ll never outlive. With this film, it feels like he’s exploring a part of him, which is admirable though at the same time feels geared to appeal to wide audiences who still maybe aren’t as in tune with their emotions. It does enough to raise awareness, but it’s doubtful that this has anything more substantial to add to the conversation other than bipolar people fall in love too. It’s something we’ve frankly known for decades. If our idea of normalizing it is to have Pat dance to The White Stripes, then fine.
I still don’t like the film, so I was very surprised with liking the book as much as I did. While it was steeped a bit in too much novelty writing at times, it still had this ability to transcend and present something more human. I love that a novel like this exists and has helped me to recognize my own ignorance that people obsessed with sports are just as deserving of more intellectual reads than what we give them credit for. With that said, I have no interest in The Super Bowl on Sunday. I’m sure it will be good, but outside of The Weeknd bumming everyone out at halftime with coded songs about drugs and depression I’m not all that interested. You all go have a fun time without me. I’ll keep trying to better myself in my own way.
Comments
Post a Comment