Up in the Air is a Downer for Unemployed

Trailers for sale or rent

 Rooms to let ... fifty cents.

No phone, no pool, no pets

 I ain't got no cigarettes.

Ah, but ... two hours of pushin' broom

Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room.

I'm a man of means by no means

King of the road.

Roger Miller – King of the Road

Christine and I went to the movies on New Years Day to see George Clooney’s latest film, Up in the Air.  No offense to George, whom I’ve liked since his ER days and absolutely adored in Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?, but the story of this particular king of the road is a stab in the heart for those of us currently on the dole.

No doubt, Clooney is an Oscar magnet and, judging by the early notices and various minor nominations, the movie will surely make its presence felt when the Film Academy hosts their annual backslapper.  But the story of an axe for hire who travels around the country to fire people from jobs because their own bosses haven’t got the nerve (or the skill – I’ve done it myself and it’s difficult) to do it themselves leaves me less than sympathetic to the Ryan Bingham character.  He likes his job … the prick.  He enjoys the separation from society brought on by his constant travel.  He watches blankly as the news of termination sinks into his victims and their worlds implode in an instant and then later congratulates himself for his professional lack of empathy.  It’s hard to get behind that kind of person, at least for me.

I can say to myself it’s only a movie.  But its seeming success in garnering sympathy for the executioner only increases the impression that those of us who are unemployed rate a bit lower on the scale.  It doesn’t say why we were let go, nor it does it issue any promise of hope for the future.  All it does is announce that, hey, the guys with jobs aren’t much better off.  Where’s Frank Capra when we need him?

Maybe I expect too much from the current generation of filmmakers.  After all, the Depression-era “Get Happy” musicals and screwball comedies were just as oblivious to the real suffering of their time as the current output.  At least the Thirties were acknowledged by all as hard times and the light fare was viewed as “escapist.”  This time around, Hollywood is allowing itself to remain disconnected from reality and forcing its audience to do the same, while totally ignoring the actual travails of society’s minor characters.  Mentioning some woman jumping off a bridge after being let go was Up in the Air’s only effort to describe the cruel aftermath. The shock value didn’t last more than a few seconds and, seriously, people with jobs jump off bridges, too.

Air's director Jason Reitman should consider doing a remake of Sullivan’s Travels next.  In that 1941 film, Joel McRae played a successful movie director who wanted to break out of the light comedy genre and do something socially impactful.  His project was entitled Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? and he traveled around the country as a hobo in search of inspiration. In the end, he comes to the realization that his comedies were of more social value than he had thought.  But, in the process, the audience does get to see themselves in a truer light.

Reitman owes us, especially if the Oscar comes his way from stepping on our backs.  He needs to make things right with us poor, idle slobs.  The Sullivan’s idea might be good enough to loose him from that evil eye.  Perhaps he can get Clooney to play the director and add a level of circular concordance to the mea culpa.  But, whatever you do, Jason, get some better-looking women next time.