Marianne Jean-Baptiste in SECRETS AND LIES (1996) - Supporting Actress Sundays

It may come as a shock to some of you, lovely readers, but Secrets and Lies is the single film from the 1996 roster that StinkyLulu saw in its original release. (See, sometimes the googaplex just becomes a bit much & -- it comes in cycles -- but StinkyLulu just falls out of the habit of the cinema. Never out of the habit movie-watching, mind you, just cinema-going.)

But 'twas certainly a treat to revisit...

...Marianne Jean-Baptiste in Secrets and Lies.

Mike Leigh's film is astonishingly simple, detailing the damage done by "secrets and lies" in an (surprisingly) extended English family. Yet within Leigh's cinematic universe, the slings and arrows suffered by these utterly typical people becomes the stuff of uncommon profundity. Petty cruelties of daily life. Desparate estrangements in the most intimate relationships. Devastating heartbreak echoing in idle patter. Why can't these characters just connect? Just say what's so clearly in the sound of their voice, the flicker of their face, the pain of their silence... The unspoken injuries accumulate into such a constellation of tension that -- for the audience -- the first 2/3 of the film becomes an unremitting experience of frustrated empathy. But that's part of Leigh's art. When the relief comes -- & it does, thank heavens -- boy howdy does it make some good movie watching... And the instrumental force in the effectiveness of this film comes from Marianne Jean-Baptiste's performance as Hortense.

Upon the death of her adoptive parents -- compelled for reasons that seem uncertain even to her -- Hortense finds and makes a palpable connection with Cynthia (Brenda Blethyn in an Oscar-winning performance). That Cynthia's white, while Hortense is black, diminishes in import as the two women encounter starker differences on their way to each other. Hortense embodies genuine competence and sufficiency, emotionally guarded but entirely alive. Meanwhile, Cynthia's a blithering mess of unwelcomed love, loathed by the daughter she raised and pitied/feared by the brother she adores. Hortense speaks carefully; Cynthia's every utterance is a gory shriek of need. Both women, however, are lonely in ways almost emotionally apocalyptic & their discovery of each other becomes an unqualified -- if complicated -- blessing.

Marianne Jean-Baptiste plays Hortense as a young woman of uncommon clarity and integrity who knows enough about disappointment to keep her expectations muted. (And as the only principal black character, Hortense could lapse into the easy righteousness, banal nobility, or soulful inspiration so typical of "the magical negro" school.) But the grace of Marianne Jean-Baptiste's performance comes in the way she plays Hortense's "patience" (a trait that is both tested & displayed throughout the film). As but one example: when a chattery social worker fluffs the air with therapeutic homilies & then unceremoniously dumps into Hortense's lap the overstuffed file containing her pre-adoptive life, Jean-Baptiste -- nearly wordlessly -- conveys the entire experience (the fear, the hope, the fury, the agony, the sadness, the giddiness, etc etc) in half-smiles and indirect glances. The character's a tough one to play & Marianne Jean-Baptiste makes it seem like she's not acting at all...

An effective and affecting performance sublimely worth the re-visit...

Be sure to tune in shortly for the
1996 Supporting Actress Smackdown!
(Should be up not much later than noon eastern.)

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(for July's Supporting Actress Sundays)