I know I’m not the only person who watched the first five minutes of the new Netflix-released crime caper, “I Care a Lot”, and thought, ‘Oh yeah, I read the piece in the New Yorker about guardianship scams targeting the elderly...and watched the segment on John Oliver, too.’ I spent the next 110 minutes trying to accept that I could be surprised by the plot twists even though I know how it all ends.
Maybe I didn’t exactly know how it would end, but I knew, you know? The film’s premise is a pseudofiction; it’s mirroring a social justice issue that elderly Americans and their families really face. I wanted “I Care a Lot” to right this wrong, to be a fantasy escape from the familiar kind of investigative journalism that shows us a lot of problems for which we don’t have any great solutions. But I also knew better than to expect that. I knew how I wanted it to end and I knew it wouldn’t end that way.
If you haven’t seen the trailer (or the John Oliver exposé or the New Yorker piece), “I Care a Lot” is about the system of state guardianship and how it is often used as a legal scam to strip elderly people of their capital. Victims are declared incapacitated and made a ward of the state, with a state-appointed guardian managing - or controlling - their lives. Marla Grayson, the film’s antiheroine, is one such guardian, scamming innocents out of their assets, autonomy, and dignity - until things start to go awry with one of her new wards.
There won’t be any spoilers here. I recommend watching “I Care a Lot”. The film has a lot to like: dynamic pacing, a strong cast, and covetable costuming. The colour palette is punchy, and the cinematography is engaging, if overdramatic at times (see: the underwater sequence). It’s highly plot-driven, at the expense of character development, and yes, it relies on some lazy tropes and visual cues (taciturn convenience store worker, sleazy lawyer in a white three-piece suit). But whether you like the film or not, I think you can’t help but be drawn in.
Some of the visual and narrative shorthand seems like an escapist gift. This film is squarely positioned as entertainment, and the sleazy lawyer helps us locate ourselves in the fiction of “I Care a Lot”. It’s a relief to turn off the awareness that this could have been a documentary film - which it so easily could have been. I’m reminded how narrow and formulaic our consumption of news media and popular entertainment has become. It’s like an algorithm writ large, not only showing me the content that fits with my previous habits, but creating it for me. New Yorker + John Oliver + 2 years production time = my latest weekend Netflix watch. The social topics we’ve already explored are mimetically presented for amusement and this offers an excuse to explore them all over again.
The film is liberal with another piece of social commentary: its gendered depictions of rage. Characters get angry, throw smoothies, physically and verbally threaten others, let out a guttural roar. I read major differences in how characters of different genders are permitted to express rage in this setting, and even more differences in the consequences and outcomes of their rage.
Marla contains a whole palette of anger: a sort of steady, low-grade irritation with most people in her orbit; quiet anger that flashes when provoked; and rage that’s triumphant and survivalist. The femininity of her rage is in its invisibility. It’s felt but not seen, hidden as it is behind reflective sunglasses and a false smile that she acknowledges makes her cheeks hurt. This kind of emotional regulation is particularly expected of marginalised people, and my guess is that even viewers who don’t see much of themselves reflected in Marla - she being an affluent, conventionally attractive white woman - will recognise the frustration of this self-censorship. Only in a single moment, alone and vulnerable, does she show anger as something raw and undiluted.
Contrast this with the male characters, whose rage and frustration act like a blunt force weapon, like the rock in a game of ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’. The film is bookended by scenes of physical violence, driven by stereotypical masculine anger that hasn’t been taught to stay hidden and contained. And notably, the violence that a female enacts midway through the film (a thwarted strangulation) has less fatal consequences than when male anger raises a physical threat.
In the end, male rage is allowed to be more powerful. Socially, we’re the paper, covering up the rock and denying its danger; sometimes female anger cuts through the pretense like scissors. I just hope that’s where the metaphor ends and that female rage - and female power - isn’t doomed to be smashed by the rock every time.
Unsolicited Recommendations
Check out:
Björk’s Radio Hour to promote her new Sonos Radio HD Station. The hook is that her station compiles 21 years-worth of wave files into one glorious stream. The Radio Hour doesn’t have a single weak link; I think the field recording of Benjamin Britten’s gamelan-inspired improvising is a knockout.
Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle by Drs. Amelia Nagoski and Emily Nagoski. I listened to the audiobook last autumn and am still referring back to things I learned. (Human Giver Syndrome! Completing the stress cycle!)
Questions to Ask while watching Netflix.