Dec 10, 2018
It's not difficult to see and appreciate the intent of director Josephine Decker's Madeline's Madeline, an artsy, indie movie about artsy, indie people, but it is difficult to become immersed in their world when the message about the process and the craft-no matter how vital the performances or justified the feelings-fails to be intriguing to anyone beyond this realm. I love to write, I love the creative process, and while acting terrifies me I find a person's ability to give themselves over to the confidence it takes to embody something other than who they're already trying to work up the confidence to embody completely admirable. And yet, Helena Howard's titular Madeline never comes off as a performer authentic in her love of the craft, but more a young and impressionable soul struck by the mystic intangibility of what being an actor means. Madeline's Madeline tries its damnedest to sidestep ones expectations of any kind of formula within its filmmaking, but in the process of avoiding such trademarks it forgets to create one of its own that both demystifies and enlightens the audience as to why they should care as much about the method as they should the final, prepared version presented on screen. In other words, I just didn't get it.
