It is a challenging feat to remove a film from its social context. When was it released? What does it say about the current cultural moment? What can we, as audience members, take this to mean? These questions guide our interpretation of a movie, and they help to legitimize it in the zeitgeist. After all, its place in history is cemented by its release. And why would we wish to escape it?
Oftentimes, a movie will come along and move us in unique and dynamic ways. They may arrive at a time in our lives when we so desperately need to see it. Others may speak to the political climate; giving voice to social movements. In short, the impacts provided from the cinematic landscape help to broaden our understanding of the world and allow us to learn about realities that are not our own.
In many ways, Submission feels like a movie that speaks to the “now.” It tells the story of Ted Swenson (Stanley Tucci), a former novelist turned college professor who is immediately wooed by a student in his literature class, Angela (Addison Timlin). When Angela presents her novel to Ted, he becomes enamored by her and her work. As the line between teacher and student begin to blur, Ted must grapple with his marriage to Sherrie (Kyra Sedgwick) as well as his role as writer and professor. Does he dare cross a line that could cost him his career?
Richard Levine paints a thorny and messy relationship that feels like it wants to align itself with current social movements, such as #MeToo and #TimesUp. And while the intentions of the film seem to be in the right place, the end result is a muddled exploration of power imbalances, deceit, and sexual politics that do not seem to fit in 2018.
Angela’s Allure
Submission opens with a voiceover from Ted, our protagonist. He speaks cynically about his life as a novelist – detailing the rise and fall of his fame. With nowhere to turn after the meteoric success of his book, Phoenix Time, he accepts a teaching position at an upscale university in Vermont. Within minutes, his boredom becomes abundantly clear: listening to students speak nonsense of each other’s work becomes tiresome.
It is only until Angela speaks that he (and we) begin to listen. Her opinions on another student’s work are vicious and candid – precisely what Ted wants to hear. The relationship between the two begins suddenly; initially as one built off of respect (Phoenix Time, Angela notes, is her favorite novel). Ted is beguiled by Angela. She is talented – made evident through her voiceover of the novel she is writing, Eggs.
Of course, not everything remains this innocent as the story unfolds. The admiration they have for one another quickly becomes physical, setting into motion mistakes that Ted cannot undo. Was Angela a doting fan of his work, or was she after something all along? Or perhaps Ted was trying to recapture his former glory as a writer by allowing himself to be fawned over by a student?
What is especially odd about Submission is having Ted be our window into the story. His voiceover is sporadic, giving only exposition at the beginning and then disappearing until the very end, and only tells us what we need to know: he is bored, stuck in a rut, filled with indignation. However, that makes a character not. And for the remainder of the film, we are left to wonder what about Ted is compelling.
Angela, on the other hand, is constantly aloof. She speaks nonchalantly, always bending backwards to have Ted hear what she thinks he wants to hear. She is charming, a good writer, and deeply sexual – a fact Ted notices when reading a book of her poetry at the university’s library. Together, they form a pair that makes you feel confused and icky at the same time. The story is marred by the fact that there is very little insight given to either of these characters. Therefore, watching their flirtation develop into something deeper is more confusing than captivating.
A “Now” Movie?
There’s an early scene in the film when Ted discusses the notion of intentionality with his students. As they read each other’s work out loud for one another, everyone is quick to ask, “Why did this happen?” And, of course, it rings true of college students – to diminish one’s work without thoroughly dissecting it, but Ted intervenes, claiming that it is not our job to understand the intentionality behind someone’s work. Rather, it is about unpacking its effectiveness. In many ways, Submission asks its audience the same question: is this story effective? In some ways, yes. The performances are notable and there was a good idea at the forefront of the film. It just does not add up to anything significant.
As Submission reaches its climax, you get the sense that things will end more with a whimper than a bang. The second half of the film forces Ted to reconcile with the choices he made – but the problem is not that he is not punished effectively for what he does throughout the film.
The problem is that, despite this, there seem to be no real consequences for his actions. To make matters worse, there seem to be no real stakes at play here. Certainly, the sexual cat-and-mouse that Ted and Angela become enmeshed in sounds promising. Unfortunately, this never seems to take off, nor does it have any real payoff by the end.
Submission: Conclusion
It’s a daunting endeavor to review a film that attempts to speak to the cultural moment. In an era where sexual harassment and assault run rampant, we oftentimes turn to media that help us make sense of it. And whether or not Levine was attempting to tackle this issue soon becomes inconsequential – because intentionality can illuminate a tiny facet of the film. Now, it is for us as the audience to decide.
And sadly, Submission lacks the insight and perspective to become a movie that represents “now.” When the current cultural, political, and social climates are especially contentious, perhaps we need a movie that will address these issues head-on, and allow us the chance to learn about them and grow from them.
What are your thoughts on Submission?
Submission is currently out in limited release.
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