How Safe shows the realities of living with an… | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

How Safe shows the real­i­ties of liv­ing with an incur­able illness

12 Nov 2017

A woman with curly brown hair wearing a white dress and pearls stands in front of a floral patterned window.
A woman with curly brown hair wearing a white dress and pearls stands in front of a floral patterned window.
Todd Haynes’ 1995 film stars Julianne Moore as a woman who becomes aller­gic to the 20th century”.

Car­ol White leads an unre­mark­able life. Played by Julianne Moore, she is the house­wife of a suc­cess­ful busi­ness­man who occu­pies her time with mun­dane activ­i­ties, some­times social­is­ing with her bour­geois friends, some­times order­ing fur­ni­ture and work­ing on her lav­ish home. One day, she is struck by a cough­ing fit while out dri­ving, amid also feel­ing run-down’, but this too ini­tial­ly appears to be benign, as her doc­tor insists that noth­ing is the mat­ter. But her health nev­er­the­less dete­ri­o­rates, as bouts of nose­bleeds and vom­it­ing devel­op into fits and seizures, until she is prompt­ed – hav­ing been offered no diag­no­sis from any doc­tors – to join a remote retreat ran by new-age prac­ti­tion­ers, in order to escape the chem­i­cals’ she comes to believe are caus­ing her aller­gic reactions.

Her dis­in­te­gra­tion into ill-health is the focus of Safe, Todd Haynes’ sec­ond and arguably best fea­ture. The direc­tor of I’m Not There and Car­ol mas­ter­ful­ly estab­lish­es a chilly atmos­phere, infus­ing every scene with a sense of unease to high­light how even the banal some­how pos­es a threat to this poor woman. Char­ac­ters are most­ly framed in imper­son­al long and mid shots dur­ing lengthy, sta­t­ic takes, empha­sis­ing the emo­tion­al dis­tance between them. The film’s visu­al style is often eerie and frigid, espe­cial­ly with­in Carol’s fash­ion­able sub­ur­ban home. And the score alter­nates between pro­longed silences and fore­bod­ing dis­so­nant nois­es, the kind of thing you’d hear in a hor­ror film to cre­ate a sense of dread and inform that all is not well.

In fact, Safe plays out a bit like a hor­ror film – only the mon­ster that tor­ments the pro­tag­o­nist is invis­i­ble and nev­er explained. Julianne Moore beau­ti­ful­ly con­veys her character’s anguish, embody­ing a phys­i­cal and psy­cho­log­i­cal dis­in­te­gra­tion that is pro­found­ly dis­tress­ing to wit­ness. It’s not easy to car­ry a film as a char­ac­ter defined by her timid­i­ty and ret­i­cence, but Moore does just that, bring­ing to Car­ol the sug­ges­tion of a deep well of untold and unar­tic­u­lat­ed thoughts that intrigues as much as it mystifies.

Snowy woodland scene with lone person walking on a path.

What is it that caus­es her break­down? That’s the ques­tion that lingers over any view­ing of Safe, and has pre­oc­cu­pied many crit­ics grap­pling with the film. One school of thought is that Car­ol is aller­gic to mod­ern life, that the steril­i­ty of her afflu­ent but emp­ty Rea­gan-era exis­tence (the film is set in 1987), where wealth and com­modi­ties can­not make up for her pas­sion­less mar­riage and super­fi­cial friend­ships, dri­ve her into bad health. Oth­ers attempt to diag­nose her with psy­cho­log­i­cal dis­or­ders, per­haps some form of depres­sion, or hypochon­dria. Or maybe we can even take it at face val­ue, and enter­tain the thought that she does indeed suf­fer from mul­ti­ple chem­i­cal sen­si­tiv­i­ty that is trig­gered by every­day chemicals?

But Carol’s ill­ness is not meant to be explained – rather, the hor­ror of the film lies in that fact that it is inex­plic­a­ble. In Unrest, a recent doc­u­men­tary about the mys­te­ri­ous dis­or­der ME (aka Chron­ic fatigue syn­drome), direc­tor Jen­nifer Brea calls out the myth that some­thing that eludes the knowl­edge of med­ical sci­ence must instead have some oth­er com­fort­ably under­stand­able cause. Peo­ple like Car­ol can fall ill with­out any expla­na­tion, and no spec­u­la­tions about deeply repressed trau­mas, nor clev­er­ly thought-out the­o­ries bring­ing up soci­o­log­i­cal or philo­soph­i­cal milieus, can account for it. Her con­di­tion is all the more unset­tling for how sta­ble, albeit drab, her life ini­tial­ly appears to be, and taps into a deep fear that it could with­out warn­ing afflict any­one at any time.

In this sense, the real theme of Safe is how soci­ety mis­un­der­stands and mis­trusts the vic­tims of such mys­tery ill­ness­es. Whether its doc­tors who insist noth­ing is wrong with her, a hus­band too pre­oc­cu­pied to offer sup­port, or the New Age guru whose self-help teach­ings, though osten­si­bly about empow­er­ment, implic­it­ly lays the blame at the vic­tim, there is a wide­spread assump­tion that Car­ol could some­how will her­self back into good health. The notion of an ill­ness with no known cause and no known cure is too trou­bling to contemplate.

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