The buzz around Martha Marcy May Marlene was initially kindled by the emergence of an Olsen sister who isn’t a twin; however, the first few moments of the film erase this potential novelty, entrapping the viewer in a film that is much less a cult film and more a film about a cult. To cut to the chase: Elizabeth Olsen is stunning as Martha cum Marcy May, a girl taken in by a de facto family in the Catskills whose leader, Patrick, (the characteristically impressive John Hawkes) subscribes to the communal theory that the land “is as much yours as it is mine.” It’s Hawkes’ subtle intensity and eerily charismatic cadence that sells his character and makes it less exaggerated than it could become in the hands of another actor. Much like in Winter’s Bone when he was opposite Jennifer Lawrence, Hawkes has a worthy foil in Olsen, whose mannerisms resemble those of a doe simultaneously frightened and mesmerized by the oncoming high beams of as SUV on a country road at midnight.
The film begins with slow and steady shots of an old farm house with people tending to various chores in the vast yard. There is no soundtrack but the laughter of the girls and the sound of wood being chopped. Soon, the men gather at the dinner table to eat, with Patrick at the head. A circular light hangs from the ceiling and introduces an angelic image to the segregated meal. The girls wait on the staircase outside the kitchen, playing with each other’s hair and waiting for the sound of silverware on ceramic to cease. When it does, the girls rise and wait for the men to exit. However, the presumed tension is allayed as the men exit the kitchen and kiss the girls on the cheek. These girls are not being starved or punished; they’re simply waiting their turn, something that’s clear in the next scene as they all sit down to dinner. While it “takes time for people to find their role in a family,” Patrick encourages a return to traditional, and anachronistic, gender roles: the women sew, cook, and clean; the men take care of the heavy lifting, building, and farming.
And, this is where Marthy Marcy May Marlene threw me for a loop. In a sense, I was waiting for this torturous commune that completely brainwashed a young girl, prompting her escape and casting Martha into a bin of “torture-porn.” Instead, what I found was the introduction of a utopic society. Is it completely on the level? No. There are a number of issues, but as writer / director Sean Durkin shows us, these issues – or at least variations on these issues – are prevalent in what would be considered the contemporarily traditional nuclear family.
Certainly, Patrick is a bit twisted. Despite his soft voice, slightly hunched shoulders, and diminutive frame, he holds a firm hand over his family, but in a charming, romantic fashion. Music is common in the commune, with men playing the guitar, but they do not sing. Instead of words, they hum in various patterns replacing lyrics with throaty sounds and beats. The lone exception is Patrick, who softly croons “Marcy’s Song,” which was originally written by Jackson C. Frank, an American folk singer, and includes the lyrics “I’d give you, give you quite freely / All the clothes on your gipsy bait / And I’d suffer, suffer so long in prison / If I knew you’d have to wait.” First and foremost, this song brings Marcy notoriety and labels her Patrick’s momentary favorite of the group. Secondly, these lyrics reach an emotional nerve in Martha, who “people have abandoned” her whole life. Patrick simultaneously informs us of this information while he reveals his seeming omniscience to Martha who is taken aback by his knowledge.
This song also reaffirms Martha’s new identity as Marcy May. If perchance anyone else was still using “Martha,” this song makes it a distant sobriquet. Even the way she is initially renamed is subtle and simply consists of Patrick saying hello, introducing himself and noting “You look like a Marcy May” as he smiles, exiting to complete whatever work he has. In a sense, Patrick has built a commune and deemed himself the Adam of his Eden, taking on the responsibility of naming each and every creature (if you adhere to the third creation story in Genesis). Clearly, Patrick’s method has two effects: it psychologically disassociates the new family members from the past; it further establishes Patrick as the alpha patriarch, something that is duly affirmed when he “cleanses” each girl of their former pain.
In Martha Marcy May Marlene, the “cleansing” is a euphemism for drugging and raping. Martha’s – er, Marcy May? – first moment is difficult to watch, primarily because she’s initially asleep, but it doesn’t become visceral until she wakes up, and it is clear to both her and the audience what is happening. However, the more disturbing event is subsequent as Marcy is wrapped in a soft, white robe being counseled by a fellow woman who repeats how “truly good” and “cleansing” the act is: it erases the pain of her past and fully initiates her into Patrick’s flock. At the same time that this moment gives Marcy a veritable family that she can trust, it duly confirms Patrick’s “Adam complex” as he has a penchant for bringing in young women he can deflower, symbolically becoming the introducer of original sin, and literally making him unforgettable as the “first one.”
All in all, the most powerful and haunting scenes contain Hawked and Olsen. They are best when together but hold their own while playing off of other actors. The main issue with the film, however, is the supporting cast. At times, it feels as if Durkin wrote a film about a girl in a cult and then needed to expand on the story and, instead of just having Martha flee in fear, he had her flee to her rather aloof, ignorant, indifferent sister.
The juxtaposition of Martha’s former life and her life in the commune further drives home the stigmas we have about “socially acceptable” and “socially proper” behavior. At the same time, these examinations are often the weakest part in the film, particularly because they feel forced. I’m not sure if they would be better with a subtler actress and actor playing Lucy and Ted (Sarah Paulson and Hugh Dancy), Martha’s sister and brother-in-law, but the inexplicably exaggerated reactions of both characters are often nonsensical.
For an example, which happens to be the first of many, Martha and Lucy sit on a dock while Ted swims out in the lake. Lucy and Ted are very wealthy, and their home is gigantic and immaculate, and their lake front neighbors are far enough away that the audience (and presumable the characters) can’t really see any other residences. When Martha decides to jump in the lake, she removes her clothes and jumps, making sure to swim to the extreme left hand side, which is well out of the view and path of Ted. However, Lucy has what could best be called a conniption, decrying Martha’s actions as “inappropriate!”
The main problem with this scene is not Lucy’s embarrassment. (Despite what we may often believe, our society is still rather prudish.) Rather, the issue is that her reaction does not logically correspond to Martha’s action: the anger and frustration that seethes from Lucy is unnecessary. Sure, it casts her as a bit of a wench and an image-conscious control freak, but it seems that the only mode of conveying Lucy’s anger is by getting louder, something that creates a rather unrealistic character in an otherwise powerful, convincing study of a girl whose various memories are manifested into haunting realities.
