Rarely do I completely disagree with a New Yorker movie review, but I just watched The Sessions, and David Denby and I seem to have watched a different film. This was, by far, the best 2012 movie I’ve seen—and yes, I saw Argo (far too much dramatic manipulation) and Lincoln (I found Daniel Day Lewis's "Rail Splitter" too jovial for a depressed, tortured man, and objected to—just as in Argo—the made-up drama). I understand the need to appeal to the public at large for commercial reasons, but this, sadly, makes it difficult for me to sit through 95% of movies—even Academy Award nominees. The Sessions is about love, attachment, loss, and yes, voicelessness (this time due to the fact that the protagonist spends most of life in an Iron Lung, but luckily is able to express himself through poetry.) The movie should be required viewing for all beginning (and non-beginning!) therapists—although most will try to argue that there is a big difference between sex therapists and “talk” therapists. In this particular case, I disagree—and it is the convergence that makes the movie so painful, and so rewarding. I won’t say more so as not to spoil the plot, but the two leads, John Hawkes and Helen Hunt, are marvelous, and I highly recommend the movie to the Board.
Richard
