Things We Lost in the Fire was a melodramatic film that peaked my interest and curiosity. Both being a widow and having gone through Katrina, I was interested in what "things" were lost in the fire. Regarding the fire that happens before the movie even starts, in an intense scene, widow Audrey admits that deceased husband Brian's interpretation was that the lost material things didn't matter as long as you still had each other.
It's quite remarkable that while Brian is taking his childhood friend Jerry Sunborne out for his birthday that the message "accept the good" comes across as the theme of the film. Also while together, Jerry remarks about how good Brian has it. Strange to see that from the inception of his relationship with widow Audrey from the funeral to the rehab center that Jerry learns to "accept the good" and "the good" being all that Brian possessed including his wife, children, friends, property and affluent lifestyle.
However, there is much more to this story. Simply put, the movie opens with the ever-devoted loving husband, Brian, romancing his wife, Audrey. He interrupts the atmosphere when he announces he has to pay a birthday visit to his childhood friend, Jerry Sunborne. Audrey becomes rigid with fear and resentment and explains that she worries every time he goes to visit Jerry that he will not return (could this be because Jerry is an heroin addict that lives on skid row?).
The movie toggles back and forth from present to past, eaves-dropping particulars of Brian's murder as he heroically tries to help a woman being beaten by her crazed husband -- but not in skid row as Audrey had feared -- but in front of a Cold Stone Creamery in an upscale Seattle neighborhood. Audrey's premonition was correct, but the environment was way off the mark.
Jerry is retrieved by Audrey's brother, Neal, and brought to the funeral reception held in Brian's home and it is there that the love/hate relationship between Audrey and Jerry begins. Jerry shares conversation and a cigarette with neighbor-friend Howard and is unassumingly drawn by Brian's adorable children and bereaved wife, Audrey. The status of being Brian's best friend gives Jerry a feeling of acceptance and he graciously accepts the hospitality offered by Audrey when she suggests he move into and help with the renovation of the apartment that was burned in the fire. Neighbor Howard generously offers to furnish the apartment with hand-me-downs and Jerry opens the apartment door to a new beginning. This relationship broadens when Howard offers to go jogging with Jerry in the morning where they encounter the corner where Brian was murdered strewn with flowers, stuffed animals and mementos.
As the story progresses, Jerry finds that Audrey needs him to share her bed to get through her insomnia. He spends the night sharing Brian's bed with widow Audrey and ritualistically rubbing her ear lobe to lull her to sleep as Brian had always done. Jerry's facial expressions steal every scene as he is truly perplexed by his invitation into their lives. But why Audrey couldn't take an anti-depressant or sleeping pill like most widows -- I don't know. The plot thickens as Jerry is drawn in more and more by Audrey's need. He becomes more like a surrogate father to her children and friend Howard rejuvenates his lackluster career by offering him a job where he can utilize his legal skills.
Heroin addict Jerry is slowly but surely evolving into a refined, decent human being, coming out of the half-way house slums and into a "well-developed" lifestyle with the support of his newfound friendships both with Howard and his recovering friend, Kelly (Alison Lohman). All of a sudden his self-esteem is shattered when Audrey claims he's trying to take over her husband's place in her family prefaced by her opinion that he should have been the one to die -- not Brian. She insists he leave and leave he does ... straight back to heroin, skid row and slumberland! When pal Alison calls Audrey and is fearful Jerry has relapsed since he didn't show up for an important NA meeting, Audrey goes on a mad search to find him in the decrepit alleyways of the down and out. She brings him back to the apartment where after a long trial, he is detoxed with Neal's assistance.
This was the best part of the movie, Oscar-worthy in my opinion, watching Jerry go through the DT's and dry out. It reminded me of a scene from the "Man With the Golden Arm." Del Toro's expressions and interpretations take over the movie and make him endearing to everyone's heart. Berry, on the other hand, is quite self-involved, even in her marriage, and seems not to be aware of the feelings of others but being more intent on control and attraction without regard to the damage she can cause to a weak spirit.
Things We Lost in the Fire seems to have a positive outlook with Jerry going off to rehab and leaving flowers on Audrey's doorstep with the message "accept the good," giving us the impression that the healing will continue and the two best friends of Brian Burke will find love and romance on Jerry's return. What has been salvaged through this tragedy is that they are all still together even though they have all gone through the "fire" with the loss of their husband, father or friend.
I had a love/hate relationship with Things We Lost in the Fire similar to what jealous Audrey had with Jerry. At times I had wished that the movie's DVD would have been one of the articles lost in the fire. I thought Audrey was a beautiful woman who lured her husband's best friend into a comfortable situation, then stomped on him like a bug without any regard for his dependent nature and addictive sensitivity. I absolutely loved the part of Jerry. He was drawn into a situation of plenty, and played it humbly and with thankfulness. His distorted face revealed indecision, doubt and confusion yet with understanding and sensitivity. His role as a tortured druggie was believable and gripping.
After viewing the featurette, "A Discussion About Things We Lost In the Fire" in which Danish director Susanne Bier (After the Wedding Oscar winner) explained her quest in portraying the reality and depth of healing through a tragic occurrence, I had a much better understanding of the film. This is a character-driven movie where feelings and thoughts are captured through the iconography of creative facial closeups. Tom Stern's photography was riveting and relevant and kept me glued to the film despite the storyline.
Things We Lost in the Fire will compel you to rethink without judgment or logic the psychological and physical reactions created by pain and death. The movie was undoubtedly depressing, but as director Bier suggests, offers a glimmer of hope and happiness for the future. "Enter at your own risk" should be the signage on the cover of this film. It was "R" rated for violence, drugs and language but little sexuality -- except the insane rubbing of Berry's ear lobe.
