Adore: Trapped in Paradise

(Spoiler alert!)

One of my favorite scenes in Anne Fontaine’s film, Adore, is when Saul, Lil’s (Naomi Watts) dogging admirer, shows up uninvited and unannounced at her home. Roz (Robin Wright) is there. Saul is trying to have an intimate conversation with Lil, who has been avoiding both Saul and his affection for the whole film. There’s a stunning moment after Saul declares his undying love, when the two women, who have been friends all their lives, simply look at each other. No words are exchanged. The two actresses carry the communication off perfectly. Their eyes lock, then move, then move again, ever so slightly. As someone who has had that kind of communication, I was thrilled. And, I was thrilled again by Saul’s reaction. “Oh, I see! So, that’s how it is!” Saul’s undying love promptly dies. The two women are grateful to be mistaken for lesbians, considering what’s really going on, and they allow Saul to keep his misconception. They have a good laugh at his expense. (I also love the way Naomi pronounces “Saul.” Her attitude has such a lovely sneer to it.)

For me, that silent moment between the women defines the film.

Saul just doesn’t get it. In fact, no one does. Except the four people involved.

Let’s just put the sex aside for a moment. Even before the boys were grown, the four people, Lil and her son, Ian, Roz and her son, Tom, are in their own world. Another great silent scene shows the four standing together in their mourning clothes after Lil’s husband dies. Roz’s husband is looking on from the window as the two women and their sons mourn quietly together, gazing out at the endless blue sea which is their great comfort zone, symbolized by the raft to which they all continuously swim where they can float and simply be.

The film begins with Lil and Roz as little girls, bursting with life, breathlessly giddy with running and then swimming effortlessly to this raft, where they have a stash of treasures, one of which is a flask of liquor. There, the two little girls drink of the forbidden alcohol and get a bit high on the day and on themselves.

That’s it. They are high on themselves.

It’s happened before. Blue Lagoon. Again, sex aside - remember the part where the two young parents decide to turn their backs on the rescuing ship and return to their island life with their new baby? In Out of Africa, where natives said that white people went quite mad from the altitudes of Kenya, the expats created their own kingdom. Cheri – why, oh, why couldn’t Lea and Cheri just be together? I mean, as a prostitute, Lea lived in an alternate reality where she could have made her own rules. No, instead, the prostitutes pretended they were respectable. It simply wasn’t done. Cheri had to marry and Lea had to be alone. Right, that worked.

In real life -The Brontës had it. The Alcotts had it.

Of course, having it means that you cannot exist outside of it. The air outside of the small kingdom by the sea in Adore is not breathable for the four main characters. They tried it. Thinking they should, two young men actually broke out of their dream life, went out into the “real world” and married women their own age. The part of the film I hate ensues – I like to call it – the monkeys. I fast-forward through monkeys. (Like Julie and Julia – anything that’s not about Julia Child’s life is about the monkeys. I fast-forward through it. They should have just made a biography of Julia Child. But, I digress.)

Now, let’s talk about the sex. Here’s where most people bring their own children into the discussion. Why? “I would never do such a thing!” Of course you wouldn’t and you’re missing the point. You and your children are not in this story.

At the risk of being too simplistic - Sex is a natural part of the natural life. I could watch this movie all day if these healthy, beautiful characters only ate and drank, laughed and danced, swam and surfed, and slept chastely. I am a voyeur of life. The sex is a part of that. But, no more important to me than the whole natural way of life portrayed in the film, a way of life – sans sex with a friend’s son - I would adore.

Adore is a heightened reality. The cinematography portrays a sunny, stunningly blue world. The air is brightly fair or misty blue. Critics have wondered if the raft is symbolic of the womb. Sure, if you could stay in the womb. I think the raft is a symbol of their isolation. For me, the ocean is a sort of womb that you can stay in. The ocean creates the life they live. Surfing alone is an insular life in which surfers must concentrate their entire beings around the waves; they must become one with the ocean in order to ride its back successfully. The four are creatures of the natural world and cannot leave it for long, except for short bursts of work. (The Brontës also suffered when they left each other for the outside world. The Alcotts brought choice persons from the outside world into their inner one.) Lil and her son work at a yachting company. Roz runs an art gallery. Tom is a director of plays. By the way, in reality, those are the jobs that are in paradise! Some critics have also suggested that the four need to “grow up,” “move on,” “get with the program.” Ah, no, actually that’s the point. They have already arrived. The four are in Heaven. There’s nowhere else to go. When Roz’s husband wants her to put paradise behind to follow him to his new job in Sydney, he feels he is a traitor. “No one thinks that, Harold!” is her reply. But, she and her son simply cannot leave.

There's also a bit of The Garden of Eden to the situation, like Eve and her sons. Or Mount Olympus, two goddesses discussing the "young gods" they have created.

The only thing I don’t understand is the title. Yes, the two women adore their sons. And, the sons also adore both their mothers and their respective lovers. However, I don’t get the feeling that their adoration is absolute. I think they all have a very clear knowledge of who they are and who their sons and lovers are, faults, weaknesses, strengths, fears, et al.

They all adore paradise.

I think they also know, deep in their hearts, without speaking it, that the four of them are trapped in paradise, as exemplified by the very last scene when all four are stretched out, floating on the raft without relaxing, without smiling, without touching.

©Patricia Goodwin, 2013

Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, about Marblehead legends and true crime and its sequel, Dreamwater, about the Salem witch trials and the vicious 11-year-old pirate Ned Low. Holy Days is her third novel, about the sexual, psychological seduction of Gloria Wisher and her subsequent transformation. Her newest poetry books are Telling Time By Apples, And Other Poems About Life On The Remnants of Olde Humphrey Farme, illustrated by the author, and Java Love: Poems of a Coffeehouse.

Note: This author did not refer to the Doris Lessing short story, The Grandmothers, upon which the film, Adore is supposedly based. She wanted to write about Adore on its own.

Signs: When Two Women Die

Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, a novella about two women who died and became legends in the historic seacoast town of Marblehead, MA.



"Goodie Goodwin is a fine and earnest writer. I remember her stopping at the house a few times. She'd stop and stare at my old house, her long blonde hair blowing in the wind off the sea. 'Ed?' she'd venture, 'How are you? I know you've probably moved on by now, you being such a great old spirit, but can you give me a sign that what I'm doing is right? I know a lot of people will say it's not right.' Always made me chuckle. So, I sent her a few signs. With permission, of course."

Edward Dimond, Psychic, Marblehead, Massachusetts, 1690 - present day

I believe in signs.

My editor on the Seacoast NH article, J. Dennis Robinson recently published his new book America's Privateer: Lynx and the War of 1812. I was surprised to find in this history book, a story about a sign. While turning the pages upon just receiving my autographed copy, I stopped at the arresting image of a beautiful lynx in snow. The lynx animal has a lot in common with a privateer ship - both are lean, swift, agile and mysterious. Here's the Lynx sign story - A sculptor's friend was out hunting one day when he came upon a lynx. Knowing such sightings are rare, he ran back to his vehicle to get his camera, thinking the lynx would surely be gone by the time he hurried back. It wasn't. Showing no fear of the man with his camera, the lynx lingered. The photo was taken. Fast forward to the art exhibit where a man whose dream it was to re-create the historic Lynx comes upon the artist's sculpture of the lynx. The man took the sculpture as a sign that he was on the right track in attempting to re-create the Lynx; he commissioned two more such sculptures to be made for the historic ship he was building. According to Robinson's book, these sculptures now adorn "the port and starboard locations where the ship's anchors are secured, structures sailors for centuries have known as the cathead."

Nothing like a sign to hearten a daunting project.

I had written When Two Women Die in 1997. I carried the book in my heart for years, often trying to get it published, just as often moving on to new projects. When Kindle offered the chance to publish, I hesitated. Like any author, I wanted a physical book I could hold in my hand. But, I felt I had already exhausted that route. I was almost 60 years old. How much longer should I wait for publishing to catch up?

I asked old Ed Dimond for advice. Didn't get an immediate answer. I prayed also. I pray almost constantly, either begging God for help or gasping thank you. For a while, as I walked by the ocean, the idea would come into my head that I should see the film, The Weight of Water. "Oh, no, come on. I've seen it. I'm not a big fan of Liz Hurley and I hate Sean Penn." A few weeks later, walking by the ocean, "See The Weight of Water." Damn.

What I "hear" isn't exactly a voice. It's a thought that doesn't seem to come from me, but from outside of me. I'm not psychic. Maybe, sensitive.

I saw the film. That's when I got encouraged. Originally, When Two Women Die was in two parts - 1690 and 1991. After seeing The Weight of Water, which goes back and forth in time, I began to see my book in point/counterpoint style. Then, someone asked me to develop the novella into a screenplay. Ok, that clinched it. I re-wrote the book as a screenplay and as a novella, both formats in point/counterpoint, alternating between 1690 and 1991, the scenes and chapters getting shorter and more urgent as the screenplay and book rushed to the dramatic finale.

Along the way, there were lots of signs. I can't remember half of them because I squelched them in my fear of being laughed at, sneered at for being arrogant or just plain not believed. Not everyone can handle the universe talking to them.

I can recall, however, many a night, turning on the television, suddenly seeing something strange and relevant to the book and looking at each other, my husband and I exclaiming, "Oh, my God, it's another sign!" A sign, let's be clear, not that I am sent by God, but more like this project is in line with things. This project is okay.

Here's another sign. Most unnerving.

I walked down to the local market one evening, around 6:30 PM to get something a little different for dinner that night. Very unusual time for me to be in the store. Generally, I'm a morning shopper. Get in, get out, get on with the day. Lots of people like to hang out after work and chat at this particular market, and I have done some networking there myself, I admit. This evening, I was to network on a spiritual level.

I got my dinner - a can of Pastene white clam sauce (My mother would cringe; she makes her own) - and proceeded to the check out. There was a man standing at the only available register who was so beautiful, I hesitated. He was very tall; I'm small. He was very handsome; I was wearing old clothes, something I do when I stay in to work. His hair was long and glowing white - it literally glowed under the ceiling lights in the dim store. I stood beside him, sneaking glances his way. He kept a slight, ironic smile on his face. He bought his groceries and left the store.

I felt I recognized him from somewhere, but wasn't sure. A few weeks later, while I was re-writing, I saw that the 1996 movie about the 1692 Salem witch trials The Crucible was on Netflix instant viewing and I thought, let me check out some of the clothing details, see how they are handled. Now, I don't get all my facts from movies, believe me. I've been studying colonial history for some time and I saw a few errors in The Crucible while I watched it this time. Those lace collars for instance - forget it! Those actors would have been hauled into Salem court and fined for vanity.

I saw something else too. Right away. I saw the man who had been standing at the cash register. Tall and handsome, with glowing white hair. The actor Bruce Davison. I checked to see if he lives in town. He doesn't. We see a lot of actors here in Marblehead. Mark Wahlberg, Jake Gyllenhaal, Tommy Lee Jones, Dustin Hoffman, Jack Nicholson - oh, yes, no kidding! So, it's not that unusual or weird.

But, it was a sign. A big one. Whether the man I saw was that actor or just the spitting image, it doesn't matter. It was still pretty relevant to me.

While promoting When Two Women Die to anyone I thought would be interested, I came upon a website that celebrated the wonderful gardens of Celia Thaxter at her home on The Isles of Shoals. On that website, I also came across actual newspaper articles from the Smuttynose murders, the mysterious murders of two women on Smuttynose Island, NH in 1873. I wrote to the editor. The Smuttynose murders were the subject of Anita Shreve's book, The Weight of Water. That website was Seacoast, NH.

One more. This last summer as we drove around town, we saw in the harbor, not far from the site of both murders, unexpected and unusual visits from tall ships. The sight of a tall ship on the ocean with no modern structures to interrupt her beauty is breathtaking. We saw three tall ships in the harbor this summer. One of them was the magnificent Lynx.


©Patricia Goodwin, 2011

Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, about Marblehead legends and true crime and its sequel, Dreamwater, about the Salem witch trials and the vicious 11-year-old pirate Ned Low. Holy Days is her third novel, about the sexual, psychological seduction of Gloria Wisher and her subsequent transformation. Her newest poetry books are Telling Time By Apples, And Other Poems About Life On The Remnants of Olde Humphrey Farme, illustrated by the author, and Java Love: Poems of a Coffeehouse.