Mental health issues were taboo back in the 1980s. If you could keep up your appearance that all was well, then all would be well, or so it went back in those days. Well, Robert Redford didn’t think so in his Academy Award-winning film Ordinary People.
Let’s get into it.
Official Synopsis
A family being torn apart by tragedy and the unrelenting pressure to maintain a façade of normalcy.
While that might be the shortest synopsis I have ever seen in my movie reviewing life, it does the trick when it comes to understanding what this film is about and what journey you’re about to go on.
The core and catalyst of the story start with Timothy Hutton’s Conrad, who can’t seem to shake the death of his brother. Conrad blames himself, so much that he tried to kill himself because of the large amount of guilt he carries with him. The attempt on his life left him disconnected from his parents and floating through his day-to-day without much direction or motivation. Having gone through a mental institute and shock therapy, Conrad reset his line of thinking and just prolonged the eventual return of his unresolved feelings. The first part of the film does a good job of establishing that Conrad is coming out of his safe place and needs more than just forgetting that he was there with his brother when he died. Redford’s slow and methodical journey to Conrad’s tipping point is impressive and frightfully accurate showing the build from overwhelming grief to a complete and non-functioning mess that eventually Conrad finds himself trapped in.
While Conrad is getting to that breaking point, the film shows us how both Mary Tyler Moore’s Beth (mother) is coping and how Donald Sutherland’s Calvin (father) is coming to terms with what Conrad is going through. It’s intricate trickles of emotions all the way through the first act. Beth has no feelings, as she has shut out any conversation and anything dealing with her older son’s death, which includes communicating in a healthy way with Conrad. In a sense, the film alludes that Beth blames Conrad for her older son’s death and that if she must stop and think about it then it’s going to consume her too. Instead of dealing, she tries to keep Conrad moving forward with his life, putting him in several sports and keeping him busy while ignoring signs that Conrad needs therapy as much as she does. In addition, she distances herself from Conrad in the process and hates him in a sense. The performance and build-up between the two characters are uncomfortable and prototypical for families in the 80s that would wear a smile instead of dealing with MHI.
Calvin is the opposite of Beth, as well as the opposite of most men in the 1980s. The 1980s were a strange time for men, as it was a revival of a 1950s mentality of how a family should be. The ‘man’ makes the decisions and works out in the world, while the woman stays home and is a homemaker. It was how the Reagan-led United States was projected onto family structure expectations. The only issue? It simply doesn’t work. If you need proof, I can write up a review of my parent’s marriage, which ended in divorce. That will get a 0 out of 10. Possibly a negative number. Anyway, Redford’s direction on Calvin’s arc is unique for this time. While men were stereotypically seen as strong and emotionless, Calvin was the opposite, where he was in tune with his son’s feelings and while initially unable to explore his own, wanted to help his son get through his problems. Calvin’s own slow build-up from a strong businessman to a concerned parent that wanted to become invested in his son’s state of mind was brilliant as it was touching, and ahead of its time considering the image of the family during this decade. I’m sure people walked out of the theater saying they wish they could be that connected with their children and maybe they did eventually.
All three characters were beautifully drawn up and intricately brought to a crossroads in the storyline thanks to therapist Doctor Berger, played by Judd Hirsch, who helps Conrad become that domino that forces his family to finally deal with the death of their son and brother. Hirsch’s Berger was accurately written and his technique to get Conrad to sort out his feelings and to bring all of it to light instead of hiding in the dark is satisfying as it is heartbreaking. Seeing Hutton’s Conrad go from a recluse that is ready to repeat history with another suicide attempt to getting help is powerful. Watching Berger disassemble all the unneeded stress and guilt that Conrad was putting on himself was a feat that is relevant by today’s standards.
Once Conrad’s domino falls and he breathes again, the story then focuses on the parents. Calvin is feeling his son’s pain and sees his relief, which eventually brings him face-to-face with Berger. Initially wanting to confront Berger to let him know that Conrad no longer needs his services, Calvin sees the value in therapy and realizes how important it is to talk out loud about his feelings. As simple as that sounds, you’ll find a lot of people stuck in the same situation as Calvin, where showing your emotions and sorting through them somehow is perceived as being weak when in fact is quite the opposite. Dealing with and sorting through a broken set of feelings is how people survive and move on, which is what Calvin gets from his brief encounter with Berger. From that moment, Calvin realizes that to save his remaining son, he must not only communicate with him but also let go through the same emotional processing that Conrad is going through. It’s a moment in the film where the father becomes an actual father instead of that 1980s perceived ‘man’. Let’s be honest, the ‘manly’ stereotype is something that needs to die, as it puts too much pressure on men and turns us into monsters down the road. It’s such an unhealthy way to live.
Once Calvin and Conrad are onboard with processing, Beth becomes a hard sell. I can see why Moore won an award for her performance, as she plays stonewalling emotions perfectly. Beth refuses to allow herself any inch to process the death of her son and demands her family not expect that from her. Her lack of processing means that her relationship with her husband is strained. Even worse, her belief that if she distances herself from Conrad then she won’t have to deal with the loss is even more warped logic that puts her on a mental island where no one else exists. Beth’s stubbornness to deal and cope is her end, as well as her family’s eventual fracture. The entire concept of family is poisoned when communication and emotional impotency happens, as it does with this family.
While I love everything that Robert Redford did with this story and how he treated the slow and steady progression of the family ignoring their broken feelings and eventually resolving them, even if it meant breaking the family, there should be a large amount of credit given to Judith Guest’s novel that was brave enough to even broach the subject of mental health. Guest’s Ordinary People came out in 1976 and was far ahead of its time, breaking the barriers of family structure and perception, especially when dealing with a tragedy. It also shined a light on the concept of therapy, where talking through one’s feelings meant eventual resolution. Therapy was a taboo subject within the family structure, and still is in some cultures today. Back in the day, if people knew you were in therapy, they would think that something was severely wrong with the family, a concept that most didn’t want to be perpetuated in the 1980s. It was thought that if you could ignore a problem long enough, then eventually it would go away, which we know is not the case in this day and age. Anyway, Guest’s dissection of a family going through a tragedy and Redford’s display of that on film, and the importance of knowing how to resolve it should not be understated. This is a film that people should watch and possibly a must-read when it comes to understanding the process of dealing with your mental health issues appropriately and healthily.
If you haven’t seen this movie, go watch it. If you like reading, go read it. Regardless, experience this story. It’s important.
