Her very own kind of shero
It looks like none of the recently-released films, which includes everything from sci-fi fare to family animation, pose any threat to the box-office juggernaut that is Captain Marvel. Comic movie fans and casual moviegoers alike have shown up in droves to see the first female-led superhero offering in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which sees the always-intriguing Brie Larsen command the screen in the title role. Released on the heels of International Women’s Day, Captain Marvel’s symbolism signifies a huge stride in the representation of women on the big screen.
In a lot of ways, the movie feels like the culmination of many years of screen heroines, who have fought not only life-threatening adversaries but also a slow moving society which, despite continuously changing times, has more often than not kept them from reaching their fullest potential. However, this has thankfully not always been the case. In honor of Captain Marvel’s success, and strong female characters in general, I thought a tribute to a film featuring a lesser-known heroine coming into her own was a little more than appropriate.
After making a name for himself with the Oscar-nominated drama The Fisher King and the box-office success of The Bridges of Madison County, screenwriter Richard LaGravenese made his directorial debut with the 1998 dramedy Living Out Loud. In the film, Holly Hunter plays Judith Moore, an Upper East Side divorcee trying to put her life back together following a split from her successful doctor husband (Martin Donovan). Alone, confused and with her head in a million places, Judith battles her own neuroses and goes about the motions, while also catching the eye of Pat (Danny DeVito), the lonely doorman in Judith’s building.
It might be safe to assume that on the surface, there’s isn’t a great deal about the main character of Living Out Loud to emulate; and yet at the same time, she’s the film’s most compelling feature. Judith’s life is one full of regret after having traded in her own dreams and overall sense of self for life as a society wife. It’s a life that has completely disappeared with divorce and left Judith pondering the frightening and inevitable questions: Who am I now, and who am I REALLY? In searching for the answers to these questions, Judith almost becomes a late-90s version of a shero as she begins to explore the world outside of the stereotype attached to someone of her status and becomes more and more determined to find her own place within it. Judith’s journey in finding out who she is sees her seeking clarity through the characters she encounters along the way. Her bond with Pat shows her someone who is likewise nursing deep wounds, but is clinging to some sort of hope for the future, while an unexpected friendship with lounge singer Liz (Queen Latifah) ushers Judith into in an alternate side of womanhood she never thought applied to her. The beauty of Judith throughout the course of Living Out Loud is the way she absolutely refuses to become an afterthought to those who knew her, especially herself. It’s that steadfast determination which shows up even in her weaker, more vulnerable moments that makes Judith one of the most compelling female protagonists of late-90s cinema.
Because LaGravanese is who he is, the screenplay to Living Out Loud is nothing less than masterful. There’s comedy in moments such as Judith treating herself to a sensual massage, taking ecstasy and spontaneously pouncing on Pat in the elevator, unleashing rage on her ex and having a spectacular alcohol-fueled breakdown in the middle of Liz’s club. As funny as these moments are, the script and the direction never stray towards the cartoonish, staying firmly in the vein of human exploration. The superb dialogue all but ensures this with lines such as Judith saying to Liz after said breakdown: “When you’re laying in the gutter, you can see underneath people better than usual…I’m a native. I just clean up well.” In fact, the deeper we get into Judith’s journey, the stronger the script becomes, echoing the self-revelations she’s experiencing. “It’s like all this time I haven’t been paying attention and all of a sudden I could see it,” she muses to Pat. “I don’t know anything anymore, I don’t know how long it will last or if it’s right or wrong,” Judith continues. “Maybe all we have are seconds we see clearly.” Making Living Out Loud all the more special are the slight touches of magical realism LaGravenese adds to it. There are fantasy moments with a fractured Judith seeing two realities of random situations playing out (one showing what she would like to have happen and the other showing what actually does happen) and a musical number in a dance club which culminates with her literally encountering her younger self.
For an actress who can count classics such as Raising Arizona, Broadcast News, The Piano, and The Incredibles on a resume chock full of strong performances, Hunter has never turned in work quite like the one she does with Judith. Not only does she rise to the comedic beats of the script (succeeding gloriously), but she opens herself up to the level of soulfulness and vulnerability needed in order to bring her layered character to life. DeVito (who also produced the film) turns in what might be his greatest performance ever as he foregoes his usual comedic nature and unearths a beautiful rawness that ranks with some of the best. Finally, though she may be a peripheral character, Latifah does wonders by giving off light touches of flash as a woman who has battled her own storms and emerged victoriously.
Sadly, though unsurprisingly, Living Out Loud was not the commercial success some thought it genuinely had a shot at becoming. The film received its share of critical acclaim, with the cast, script, and direction all earning well-deserved praise. Yet the movie’s blending of tones, a complex female protagonist, and a refusal to adhere to standard cinematic storytelling tropes meant that it was in a way destined to not be the most audience-ready effort.
Still, it’s that refusal to play it safe or cling to convention (very much in the spirit of its own heroine) why Living Out Loud is worth revisiting to this day. Living Out Loud also happens to be one of those rare films whose very title virtually signifies its core essence. For much of the early part of the film, the lonely Judith is shown reacting to life around her through a series of neurotic internal ramblings (expertly and hilariously delivered by Hunter), with the “crack baby” rant being the most potent. As the movie goes on, Judith’s thoughts find their way out leading to life changing exclamations such as “I want to stop agreeing to things I don’t really want,” in a bid to find the woman she was always meant to be. Most films in a vein similar to Living Out Loud tend to share that common goal of being life-affirming on some deep level. While many succeed, few manage to provide such a captivating illustration of reinvention and how powerful and profound an act it can be.
