Paul Giamatti FTWW

Having spent a recent spring break in Cherry Hill, NJ, and being a dedicated follower and fanatical defender of MTV’s Jersey Shore, I would consider myself, relative to the general population, an expert on Jersey culture. The rawness to the sounds and sights, both geographically and sociologically, of the east coast fringe absolutely mesmerizes me. And also, a little bit of that Snooki’s booty, that’s pretty damn mesmerizing. So, a film starring Lymph Node fave Paul Giamatti, a little Garden State magic, and a shockingly accurate portrayal of high school athletics? Dirty, dirty Fox Searchlight Pictures, you know me far too well.

Being that Win Win was at the top of T. Sean’s and my list for a good while now, we made the trek Wednesday night to go see it. After putting poor T. Sean through 106 minutes of my stifled giggles (I tried restraining myself, but there was plenty of lol-ing on my part), I immediately knew that my dad would love it. Being a fellow coach at Wheaton North High School, I was sure he would be picturing some of the also-rans on our own team when laughably-inept Stemler (played by David Thompson) graces the silver screen with his wrestling prowess. So, being devoid of any kind of social life, I decided to go that very next night with my pops.

The only aspect of the repeat performance that I did not enjoy was having to fight the urge to quote along with the characters during their more memorable lines (And again, while the effort in the suppression of this desire was there, a few lines may have slipped out. I’m only human). Thankfully, my dad is an understandable man, especially when it comes to my- to put it nicely- idiosyncrasies. And to keep the Rationalizing Wheel of Positive Spin rolling, I also like to think of my behavior as a personal attempt to eradicate the stereotype of African-American moviegoers being obnoxious; I am extremely white, and far worse than even the most insufferable, Apple-Bottomed chatterbox. Solidarity, y’all! One injustice at a time.

As much as I enjoyed the humorous depictions of prep athletes, I’m sure director Thomas McCarthy intentions for this movie were a little deeper under the surface. After reflecting on some of the core themes and aspects of the film, I definitely took away something much more profound than I had during my initial view. Through main protagonist Mike Flaherty’s struggles with the location and the community around him, and the resolution of these struggles, McCarthy shows us how the panacea for our manufactured problems and stress is nothing more than a little humility.

The fact that Win Win takes place during the winter months in “the Armpit of America”, seems evidence enough of the Flaherty’s (Giamatti’s character’s family) struggle versus their surrounding. Yet, McCarthy leaves a breadcrumb trail for us, using various ordinary mishaps to portray our fractured nature- a result of being at constant odds against the elements. In fact, the very opening scene is an example of this: Abby Flaherty, Mike Flaherty’s four-year-old daughter, wakes up to the crash of her stain-glass window ornament being blown to the ground by the frigid winter air. Bleary-eyed, she moseys on over to it, picks it up, and the dialogue is christened by the child’s sharp fricative,  

“Shit!”

It’s not long before we find our next example; as Mike heads out the door to work, his wife Jackie (Amy Ryan) reminds him, in her spot-on screech of a Jersey-Mom accent, that he needs to call someone to take care of the immense, looming Mercer Oak- or what’s left of it- in the front yard. The charred splinters at the top lead us to assume that this towering tree fell victim to a recent storm. Assuring his wife that he can handle it, Mike’s words seem just as hollow as his new wooden adversary.

Minutes later, we follow Mike to a weathered residence, home to his make-shift law firm with Vic (Jeffery Tambor). Going into the basement, he frets with Vic over the terminal state of their boiler, and the six stacks it will take to get a new one. While both of them try to downplay the dire need, the boiler clangs out with startling sonority, an iconoclastic mimicking of church bells.

“We better get the hell out of hear before this thing blows,” Vic suggest as the band-aid solution. As the movie progresses, we find even more problems with the crumbling building, as Mike’s secretary Shelly is quick to point on. The clogged toilet is unable to be unplugged by Mike pathetic attempts with the plunger. Just as crucial is the lack of a functioning copier, but it is Mike’s inability to correct the flawed electronic back-up system that brings him to the end of his figurative rope. These episodes of dilapidation exemplify our embattlement in day-to-day life, as well as firing up the forge in which our protagonist's mettle will be tested.

The dysfunctional undertones also transcends into Mike's interactions with others, and his surprising strong-headed nature is revealed. We see this kind of brashness in the archetypal rebellious teen (Kyle) and over-protective mother (Jackie), but it is much subtler in affable Mike Flaherty. Giamatti’s character (a far cry from the “I am not drinking any FUCKING merlot” Giamatti we saw in Sideways) clearly elicits the most empathy from the audience. We are subjected to his early-morning lumberings in sweat-drenched, ill-fitting sweats, as well as his single-cigarette satiations: he buys a pack at the local gas station, but throws the whole pack away after lighting the first.  Within these first twenty minutes of the film, McCarthy has struck a chord that resonates with the everyday man; he renders us unable to resist the charm of this loveable loser, the short, doughy un-athlete with whom we can all commiserate. 

But it is Mike’s stubbornness that is most humanizing, and as a result, contributes most to McCarthy theme of the necessity of humility. This is primarily visible through his insisting on trying to fix the aforementioned nuisances by himself. With the tree, he tells his wife they don’t need a professional. With Vic, he says they don’t need a new boiler. With Shelly he assures her that he can fix the toilet, and that they can make do with a busted copier. We all recognize this paternal, drive-off-a-cliff-before-asking-directions behavior that stems from a man’s primal role as provider.

However, it is this basic pride, initially harmless, that leads our endearing Papa bear to make the most egregious decision of the movie. Out of a financial desperation which he is keeping secret from his family, he deceives the judicial system, becoming his client's legal guardian, thus garnering a $1500 monthly stipend. Once the status of "guardian" is obtained, he ships his client Leo, against his will, off to Oak Hill Assisted Living, so that won’t have put any effort into caring for him. Further complicating matters, he spins a web of lies to keep the truth of this situation from Kyle, Jackie, Leo, and others.

Amidst swirling litigations, athletic disappointments, and uncertainty both familial and finacial, Mike now realizes that in trying to take control of what he cannot, he has risked losing everything that he cares about. Resolved to remedy the mess that he’s made, he spends the night on Leo's couch, planning to move Leo back home in the morning, and fight in court to keep him there.

The morality of this decision is clear, but the future of Mike and his family is facing unprecedented uncertainty, thanks to the external circumstances and complications brought on by his hubris. What was once a desperate attempt at salvaging his business and family, now threatens to destroy both. But Mike puts aside all concerns, and simply acts on his convictions. And his valiant humility is rewarded; thanks to the moral bankruptcy of his prosecution, he manages to keep his business and family intact. Yet as a consequence for his trickery, he now has to work two jobs and take care of Leo. Despite these hardships, we find Mike admitting at the movie’s close that he is truly content. And it is with this contentment we see that Mike has finally heeded the ring-side advice that he gave Kyle before Sectionals:

“Stay in this, ok? This is your place, this is your place, remember? You control this!”