Thanks to the murmurs of the Internet - and my admitted predilection for listening in - I had a general idea of what I was getting into when I started watching Teeth. That is, until the opening shot of massive nuclear reactor towers overlooking a quiet suburban neighborhood on a bright, summer day; there is no music or sound, just those big towers and neat rows of houses and lawns. The camera pans across, pauses, and then looks earthward to focus on a kiddy pool and two adults in lounge chairs. It pulls in and captures a tense moment inside of a fledgling family, and the beginnings of a mystery. As this prologue gave way to the credits, I dropped my expectations of "man-eating genitalia" and sat back to see what would come next.
There are those films that start on a note that promises patience, insight, and deliberation; Teeth is such a film, and its auspicious opening is fulfilled with artistic grace. From the moment it introduces the first few wrinkles in what is otherwise a smooth suburban fabric, the film proceeds with the purpose and eye of good cinema. You will find none of the deficiencies that plague so many modern films (digressions, excess, catering to the largest crowd possible; they are legion, after all), only a unified sense of visual storytelling that has been shaped by skilled hands and intelligent minds.
For those who have not keyed into the storyline that made this film infamous before its wide release, the plot establishes an American suburbia, and peoples it with young people who are stuck on sex. Some of them are having it, and some of them are trying not to. One of the latter is our heroine, Dawn, who has joined a religious-based abstinence group as a member and speaker. As the film would have it, Dawn is in the minority for her age group, and suffers the barbs and quips of her promiscuous peers. She does her best to maintain a positive attitude, but hormones and the general pressures of the modern world are difficult to bear. She is also concerned about a personal matter that makes the prospect of sex all the more terrifying. Enter the mystery of the story.
Of course, this will only be a mystery for people who don't read about cinema or talk to people who watch it, and since you're reading this review, you probably don't fall in the latter. But here is the thing: Dawn's curious oddity (I refuse to quote the Latin phrase that names it, since every other review has) influences to the story, but does not support it alone. More important are the values and principles that drive her actions. Dawn enters every situation with earnest intent, and it is this honesty that provides tension and consequence - especially since she is both portrayed with compassion and introduced to vice and violence without mercy. By the film's end, she has been transformed into someone else entirely, and the result is as much tragic as it is fascinating.
I spoke earlier of good cinema, and the film contains many qualities that contribute to this. Places and themes are revisited with a tempo that cradles the entire narrative like waves beneath a rocking boat. You will see those nuclear reactor towers again and again, and each time they help to define the time and place of the story. Music and sound are sparse, placed here and there to emphasize or underline moments that deserve such accompaniment. The players fill their roles with complicated people that react to the events around them as they must, and still beg guessing. Direction is precise, editing difficult to notice. Each and every part of this film works in concert with the others, and collectively they create something wonderful and apart from our world.
As I watched Teeth, I was reminded of films like The Young Poisoner's Handbook, Requiem for a Dream, and Ravenous - the little films that have surprised and fulfilled with unique power. I just did not expect Teeth to be such a compassionate, thoughtful film. It will stick with me for awhile, and demand revisiting. All it will take is a memory of those towers, fat and gray and glowering.
5/11/08
