Billing Get Low as a “True Tall Tale” immediately exposes the contradiction with the premise that it’s been based on the true story of Felix Bush Breazeale, a bachelor in Tennessee, who in 1938 decided to “have a funeral party while he was alive so he could enjoy it.” The precariousness of movies “based on a true story” is obvious, and its inclusion in this film doesn’t really detract from the film; however, the dramatic liberties taken by film makers about Bush mask the value of the lesson given by the real Breazeale.
It’s true that Breazeale was a bachelor and a loner, though his curmudgeonly personality and filmic myths about his self-imprisonment are injected to make the character deeper, though it really only makes him one note, and in a sense, the transformation of the real-life Breazeale into a suffering man in his self-created perdition drags the audience along for ninety minutes until the allegations for his self-conviction are revealed. Because Robert Duvall plays Felix, the audience is much more fixated on the character’s plight; however, had a less-skilled and less-accomplished actor taken the role, the hokum of the movie would be the star. Sissy Spacek also gives a fine turn (as is expected) in her role as Mattie Darrow, a woman mysteriously connected to Felix’s isolation. And again, without Spacek’s performance, the dynamic between the two would be exposed as it truly is: flimsy and manufactured.
This is not to say that Get Low is terrible. Really, it’s not even a poor movie, but it also illustrates how actors and actresses can transform silly, predictable material into an attractive, emotional narrative.
Despite these performances, the highlight of the film is Frank Quinn (Bill Murray), the local funeral home director, whose transition from every-salesman to death merchant is impelled by his recognition that death is a product that everyone must experience, and the commerce of death is not only legally necessary – everyone needs to be disposed of in a sanitary way – but often showcases how much fraternal and familial capital one has accumulated throughout life.
And this is where the movie takes a wrong turn. Instead of getting us to the funeral that purports itself to be a confession of sin, Get Low could have focused on death as product and really created a discourse on how financially focused we’ve become on the spectacle. Moreover, the narrative of Breazeale could have illustrated the importance of celebrating and creating a spectacle while we’re still around to enjoy it. In other words, Breazeale’s funeral party should encourage us to focus on life at hand, not to recognize life when it’s over. The latter is merely a gut-reaction to the acknowledgement of our own mortality and a fleeting desire to live life to the fullest; however, these are often amalgamated in an event that is bred from death and includes mourning.
Get Low didn’t have to drag the audience along with a carrot that bespoke a terrible tragedy. It also didn’t have to weave the illusion that Bush did something horrendous that led to his isolation. However, it does, so using should and could are rather irrelevant here. At the same time, a fascinating discourse was lost on a project that was more focused on hooking the audience, rather than offering a philosophy as to why it should be hooked.
