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My Left Foot (1989)
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Movie Review by Jarrod
May 9th, 2008
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'My Left Foot' is the story of Christy Brown, an Irish artist and writer crippled with cerebral palsy; the only part of his body he could control was his left foot, and he did some amazing things with it. Daniel Day-Lewis won an Oscar for his portrayal of Brown in this superb Jim Sheridan drama, and it is an extraordinary performance, and while some cynics say that Hollywood is sure to give awards to any actor who plays disabled characters, those roles are usually the most demanding, and Lewis appears at many moments onscreen like he is in a state of excruciating pain, his mouth twisted to one side, his speech greatly slurred, but comprehensible, his oddly contorted body confined to a wheelchair. But this was probably the daily reality for Brown, who came from a working-class family, watched after by his siblings and loving mother (Brenda Fricker), and even by his gruff, stubborn father (Ray McAnally). We first meet him as a boy (a magnificent Hugh O'Connor, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Lewis), in a small crowded home, he shares a bedroom with his numerous brothers and sisters; his mother carries him up and down the stairs, which takes a physical toll on her. His father frequently visits the pub, and is extremely temperamental, the extra work and stress of caring for Christy weighs heavily on him. The community embraces, rather than shuns, Christy, the local kids incorporate him into their activities, a wooden cart is made so he can pushed around. His mother saves up for a wheelchair. As he grows up, he blossoms as a painter, and catches the attention of a palsy specialist named Eileen Rose (Fiona Shaw), whom he falls in love with. Her speech therapy allows him to talk (and use profanity) more coherently.
Christy can be a handful at times, not always easy to get along with, very moody and prone to periods of depression, where he refuses to leave his room and can find no artistic inspiration, also diving into bouts of self-pity, but his mother is always there, and how ineffective the film would be without the terrific Brenda Fricker, who also won an Oscar for her sensational work here. Mrs. Brown is a warm and matronly presence, a deeply religious and plain woman who wishes the best for everyone but herself. She saves up money for Christy's wheelchair, even if it means having the same thing at every meal for weeks on end, and going without coal during the colder months. Christy, as an adult, develops a taste for alcohol, is demanding and impetuous, arrives at a banquet held in his honor, to celebrate the publishing of his autobiography, looking unkempt, with a scraggly beard, and initially having no interest at all in the proceedings. That Conor looks so much like a younger version of Lewis is imperative, since they are required to blend together seamlessly, to provide an uninterrupted, plausible transition from Christy as a child to Christy as an adult. The film is bold, brilliant, and inspiring, with touches of humor and sorrow.
And surprising, too, is Mr. Brown, who is at first angry that his son was born a cripple, but then discovers his genius and takes pride in it, though he never tells anyone, even his wife, that he loves them. He is not capable perhaps of expressing that sentiment, but he manifests it in other ways. For Christy to have had an abusive father and a loving, protective mother would have been a bit too easy, his father is actually a complicated man who, despite outbursts of rage, is committed to his family, and never once lifts a hand against any of his children, or his wife, though there is that time he threatens his daughter, who announces that she is pregnant and is going to get married.
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