Review - The Big Chill

August 6, 2021
 
The Big Chill – US, 1983
 

I imagine most people who have attended a funeral have experienced the awkwardness of seeing a mourner you haven’t talked to in quite some time and feeling somewhat happy for the opportunity to reconnect. When the reunion eventually occurs, the conversation usually begins with expressions of sorrow over the deceased’s passing before morphing into an update on the lives of the living. It feels wrong, and yet there’s something wholly natural about it. It is as if the dead’s final act is to put the band back together, something that would not likely have occurred had death not reared its ugly head.
 
Lawrence Kasdan’s 1983 film, The Big Chill begins with a group of thirtysomethings receiving word of the suicide of their long-time friend Alex, and in a series of clips set to I Heard It Through the Grapevine, we see their varied reactions to the news. Soon everyone is meeting at a church, and even as a priest delivers a fiery sermon questioning how Alex lost hope so terribly, some of them can’t resist glancing at the faces of friends they’ve allowed themselves to become somewhat distant to. The funeral ends with one of them going to the church organ and playing Alex’s favorite song, the Rolling Stones’s “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” Kasdan makes the interesting choice of playing both of these songs in their entirety, and they create an interesting paradox – melancholy mixed with toe-tapping – reinforcing the notion that sorrow can also be a catalyst for joy.
 
Following the funeral, they and all of the other attendees adjourn to the home of Sarah and Harold Cooper (Glenn Close and Kevin Kline). They eat, get reacquainted, express their condolences to the relatives of the deceased, and comment on the age of Alex’s much younger girlfriend, Chloe (Meg Tilly). As the evening winds down, the large group of mourners dwindles down to seven of Alex’s closest friends – Sarah, Harold, Sam, Michael, Nickolas, Meg, and Karen -  Karen’s bore of a husband, Richard, and Chloe. The plan is to spend the weekend together.
 
What follows is both a universal experience and one particularly unique to people who grew up in the 1960s. In these characters, we can see people we either know or used to know, and in their conversations, we can hear our own questions about life, friendship, and whether we have remained true to the person we used to be. There are heartfelt conversations, arguments over the right way to mourn, pursuits of one-night stands, as well as the kind of honesty that only people who have known each other as long as they have and gone through as much as they have together can engage in. There are also references to Vietnam and harassment by the police – indicating they were most likely involved in either the Civil Rights or the anti-war movement. Harold takes on the role of master of ceremonies and is the catalyst for what is perhaps the film’s most famous scene – an energetic, jubilant dance to “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg,” It is as much catharsis as it is remembrance.
 
There’s a lot going on in The Big Chill, for each character has his or her own situation to deal with. Sam (Tom Berenger), though a famous actor, has clearly had trouble adjusting to fame and the kind of acting he is doing. It is clear he wanted more. Meg (Mary Kay Place), a lawyer, is disenchanted with her career and now wants a baby despite not being in a relationship. Michael (Jeff Goldblum) is a writer for People Magazine, yet dreams of running his own club. As for Nickolas (William Hurt), a pill-popping Vietnam veteran, he is a bit of a lost soul. Once a radio psychologist, he now spends his time either stoned or on drugs, a state Harold is hoping to steer him out of. There are moments of levity, such as when Sam tries to re-enact a scene from his television show, yet there’s also the spectre of Alex hanging over them, creating questions that Kasdan wisely leaves unanswered.
 
It is a credit to Kasdan and his co-writer Barbara Benedek that each of these characters is given time to develop and explain themselves, and we grow to care about them, even while not completely agreeing with the choices they make. Kasdan shows that connections remain even as time and space create differences. Wisely, he also doesn’t create happy endings for all of his characters, and two of them leave with a severely strained relationship. It is only in the closing scenes that Kasdan and his script falter, for after structuring the film around a series of conversations and confrontations, he abruptly elects not to show one of the most consequential conversations that takes place over that weekend, choosing instead to utterly ignore all of the moral and financial complications of a couple’s rather momentous decision. And without it, it’s hard to fully believe that one so clearly dedicated to his family would consent to the proposal in the first place or that the next day would be like any other one for the couple in question. Perhaps that naiveté is intended.
 
That plotline aside, it is hard to criticize The Big Chill too much. This is a well-constructed film with amazing performances, and it fascinates and inspires introspection. It is also one of the most relatable films I’ve ever seen. We can see ourselves and people we know in these characters. We understand the elation they feel when reunited and the questions they have about who they are and who they thought they would be. And we understand the ease with which they communicate and how connected they continue to be even after all these years. Moreover, we understand the transitory nature of what we are witnessing. I doubt these characters will suddenly call each other regularly or write as often as they say they intend to, but that’s to be expected. Time may create distance, but it doesn’t always dull connections. People just need a reason to reunite – be that a wedding, a high school reunion, or, sadly, a funeral. (on DVD and Blu-ray from the Criterion Collection)
 
3 and a half stars
 
*The Big Chill was up for three Academy Awards – Best Picture, Best Actress (Glenn Close), and Best Screenplay.