+ interview with the director, Fred Schepisi
+ another review of Last Orders by Kirsten Markson
Jack in a Box
At the beginning of Last Orders, three old friends
gather at a pub in South London to pay homage to one of
their own, recently deceased and set on the bar -- as ashes
in an urn. They toast, they laugh, they remember good
times. And then they drive off to fulfill Jack's "last
orders," that his ashes be scattered at Margate Pier.
The men's expedition is at once literal and figurative, a
day's worth of driving to the well-known working class
vacation spot, and a journey back in time (the present here
is 1989). During the trip, they hand off Jack's urn,
chortling, "Jack in a box!" while also trading stories
about their mostly shared pasts. As they recall how they
came to know Jack (played in flashbacks by Michael Caine
and, in his earlier years, by JJ Feild), you come to
understand the shifting, fraught friendships between Vic
(Tom Courtenay), Lenny (David Hemmings), and Ray (Bob
Hoskins), as well as Jack's son, Vince (Ray Winstone).
Adapted by producer-writer-director Fred Schepisi from
Graham Swift's novel, the film's nonlinear structure
includes flashbacks -- sometimes instigated by external
events, like their brief stops at the Chatham war memorial
(reached by a long walk up a hill that leaves those who are
unfit quite winded) and the cathedral at Canterbury -- that
don't always attach clearly to a single character.
The men's memories include happy gatherings at the pub
(singing -- or more like wailing -- Jack's favorite tune,
"Blue Bayou"), as well as more intimate moments, alone or
shared by two members of the group. So, you see Ray and
Jack's meeting during WWII, when both were stationed in
North Africa; Ray's impractical inclinations (gambling,
buying a camper), that end up ruining his marriage; Lenny's
anger at young Vince for impregnating and then abandoning
his daughter; Vince's decision to sell cars rather than
take over Jack's butcher shop (Jack claims proudly that he
refuses to sell the business and be better paid by a
supermarket because he must be "my own man"). Though these
scenes reveal diverse emotions and even some surprising
bits of history (betrayals and secrets kept), they also
appear refracted, from multiple points of view and often,
layered inside one another.
Adding to this structural complexity, the film
simultaneously follows another journey, by Jack's widow Amy
(Helen Mirren, played in her younger incarnation by the
arresting Kelly Reilly). Refusing to go to Margate with the
fellows, Amy instead enacts the same ritual that she has
for 50 years: alone, as always, she boards a bus to go see
her institutionalized autistic daughter, June (Laura
Morelli). June is unable even to acknowledge Amy, who in
turn has struggled for years with Jack, who, in an early
flashback, tells Amy they must "forget" their daughter,
whom he describes as not having "all her marbles." Amy
remembers wistfully, "It's easy to believe, when you're 18,
that you can make a 'fresh start.'" But of course, neither
of them can just forget. And so, though Amy knows that "He
always loved me," Jack's inability to love June irrevocably
changes the shape of their marriage.
All this reminiscing might easily turn melodramatic, but
for the most part, Last Orders avoids tear-jerking
and grand emotional revelations. Instead, it focuses on
structural complexities and the layering of perspectives.
This structural puzzle makes the movie an ideal project for
Schepisi, whose work does tend to be more emotionally
reserved and understated than sentimental and obvious.
Perhaps the subtlest illustration of affection and strain
involves Ray and Amy, as they discuss Jack's death. Set a
week before the drive to Margate, the scene is cut into
other flashbacks throughout the film, gradually exposing
efforts they made to be loyal to Jack, whom they both loved
but also resented, for his single-minded efforts to survive
tragedy.
While the movie is certainly about looking back and coming
to terms with long-held secrets and thorny life choices, it
is also, in the end, about looking forward. As a
hospitalized Jack advises his buddy Ray, "If you ever get
the option, you go first. It's the carrying on that's hard.
Ending, it ain't nothing." And in this context, and for all
the focus on the men's quarrels and make-ups, it is Amy who
has the most to lose and to create for the future. Her
relationship to Jack has been most clearly about a box, a
shared set of expectations and laments, as well as a set of
impositions by her husband, so loving and so unable to
love. This explains in part why her journey must be
separate from the men's, and also why, in what is the
film's most conventional move, she must also "find" herself
in a second romance.