Hathaway Storms Screen in 'Rachel Getting Married'

Story by Broadside Staff Writer Kyle Ridley

Anne Hathaway’s quick rise from fairy tale princess to dramatic powerhouse is no fluke. With her quirky sense of humor and bright-eyed smile, you’d expect the romantic comedies to be tripping over her; fortunately she’s taken a more explorative route.

From Brokeback Mountain to The Devil Wears Prada, Becoming Jane and Get Smart, Hathaway has proved her strength in tackling diverse roles and continues to stretch her limit in Rachel Getting Married. She plays Kym, a recovering drug addict given a weekend pass from rehab to attend her sister’s wedding.

Like a hurricane, Kym’s arrival runs the gamut of stormy effects: the rumbling onset, the chaotic hit, the peaceful eye and the aftermath cleanup.

For Kym, who is nine months sober and painfully self-absorbed, the weekend is her first test in facing outside conflict without a bottle in hand or syringe in arm. She carries the weight of her father’s overbearing concern, her mother’s painful disconnect, her sister’s resentment and her little brother’s death—all of which coincide with her drug abuse.

Hathaway undertakes this biting role with delicate aggression—a challenging combination achieved only by one of true substance. She is forceful in a fight, vulnerable in a breakdown and hopeful in her healing. Though commanding during dialogue, she is just as much, if not more, captivating in her silence. She quietly conquers with nonverbal cues, speaking a thousand words with a solemn stare or a glowing glance.

Rachel, played by Rosemarie DeWitt, attempts to welcome Kym’s return while keeping her at arm’s length. She asks a friend to be her maid of honor and tries to seat Kym away from the family table, all to no avail. No matter how far she pushes, Rachel can’t escape a clash with Kym, but more importantly, she can’t escape their unavoidable bond as sisters.

DeWitt beautifully balances her aggravation with genuine sympathy for her troubled little sister. Most effective is a tender scene where Rachel, already gowned for her nuptials, bathes Kym once she shows up smudged and scuffed after an emotional all-nighter.

The family dynamics, character development and array of inner conflicts are explored with such rawness that one shares in each character’s grief, frustration and joy.

Bill Irwin impresses as a loving father, bordering on enabler. His tiptoed concern over Kym at times overshadows Rachel’s golden weekend and sparks a few sisterly outbursts. Still, he’s an ideal father figure, unafraid of his sensitivity—ecstatic with news of a pregnancy and painfully brought to tears during a family spat. He is wrenching in his shift from elation to anguish once reminded of his son’s death.

This dark and shaky character drama is far more than a wedding movie, though it takes you inside the celebration unlike any other. The audience, no longer a viewing public, becomes part of the intercultural festivities. We are at the pre-wedding dinner listening to a string of toasts, including Kym’s uncomfortable maid of honor speech, which is more of a sarcastic ode to her own recovery than a congratulatory nod to the happy couple. We become reception stragglers, dancing into the night long after the crowd dissipates. We are taken out of the realms of film and into a family's home, into their hearts and into their souls.

Such is life; Rachel Getting Married is not wrapped in a pretty bow. Walls are broken down as well as raised. Some wounds are healed while others reopen. The pendulum swing from victory to failure is never-ending. In a way, the movie healthily reminds us that we are all in constant rehabilitation, taking it one day at a time.