In 2013, The New York Times shared a puzzled reaction to Joanna Arnow’s docufiction i hate myself : ). Acknowledging that the film is “ugly to watch and even uglier to listen to,” the review recognizes the aesthetic’s collaboration with Arnow’s peculiar, offbeat humor (if this wasn’t already indicated by the title). Recording her relationship with a racist boyfriend who performs spoken poetry, Arnow unabashedly elevates the unfiltered blemishes of reality, drawing attention to the unshakable truth that life can be terribly uncomfortable. If you like the film, it works. If you dislike the film, it works.
There are a lot of metaphors and personifications that one could draw for the concept of time (some of them will be scattered here like spreading the ashes of a 7th grade poem). In this example, the specific perspective of the brash/awkward woman circles around the idea of how time can displace gen pop acceptance and context. I think of the recent resurgence of interest in and thinkpieces on HBO’s Girls, as well as early derisive comments on Lena Dunham’s nudity and lack of social awareness (some valid). In Arnow’s return with The Feeling That the Time for Doing Something Has Passed, will acceptance be more instant?
The film certainly corroborates on its title — drabness, self-doubt, and all. The premise can be stripped down to the fundamental pursuit of Arnow’s character of Ann engaging in sequential BDSM relationships with men in a disengaged manner. On the exterior, it seems like Ann’s life is neutered to the daily droning of work, dating, and dysfunctional parents. And sure, scenes of watching Ann pour pre-packaged dal into tupperware or bickering with upper management on a faceless video call seems like the lifestyle of a sad sack. But do not mistake monotony for apathy; there’s a part of me that believes that Ann is striving for sunshine splashed among her gray apartment walls.
Whether it can be classified as a microscopic NYC-style odyssey for Nymphomaniac‘s Joe or Dunham on mood stabilizers, Arnow has the intention to make you chuckle. Like any comedy, the results will vary among people, but I found myself chuckling in the post-joke silence, which often presents after a deadpan tonal delivery of “It’s not my birthday” or something inane like putting “dense food that sits heavily in the stomach” as an interest on an online dating profile. Ann’s flatness makes it easy enough to cast your vote on whether you can enjoy this film, but you might also have to stick around for the revolving cast of characters. From a divorced, distant older man to an eager-beaver love interest, supplemented by Arnow’s real-life parents playing her parents in the movie, the people around Ann make up the needed ecosystem that allows her plainness to thrive tenfold.
In addition to Arnow’s frankness in sex scenes and self-deprecation, the film toys with the passing of time. It’s not completely clear how much time passes from beginning to end, but the vignettes can either feel like a marathon stretch or a flash depending on the content. In one humiliation scene, a lover repeatedly demands Ann to run from the bed to her back against the bedroom wall, emitting a dreaded anticipation that this could go longer than I’d wish. In other scenes, where something is said so flatly in the moment’s conclusion that you might find yourself missing a couple of jokes if you couldn’t catch it.
Other from the apparent story points at play, hypothesizing Arnow’s inner gears feel like discourse about someone’s diary. The best explanation, in this case, might be the simplest. Time is a circle, and when we are brought back to square one, we wonder where time has gone.
The Feeling That the Time for Doing Something has Passed
2023
dir. Joanna Arnow
87 min.
Opens Friday, 5/10 @ Alamo Drafthouse Boston Seaport
