In The Beginning

The Hours is a very good film.  I really was engaged by it, so much so that my mood afterwords was acutely altered for the next half an hour or so.  The most interesting thing about the film from a stylistic sense for me was by opening with Virginia Woolf's suicide.  It is much in the tradition of Greek drama, telling the audience from the outset what the ending will be.  Yet it is such a dark mood for the film to take from the first seconds, here is the author of Mrs. Dalloway which gives birth to the "main" setting in New York, ending her life before the title placard has even come up.  It's not as if audiences would enter the film expecting to see a happy film, but such a beginning seems an odd choice all the same.  It shocks the viewer before they have even settled in their seat, so why did Stephen Daldry choose to do it this way?

I think the answer lies in the three heroines themselves.  The three of them know what is going on with themselves, and yet others don't accept that they know themselves.  This is most clearly shown with Virginia and Leonard at the train station.  It's clear that Leonard cares for his wife, and honestly wants the best for her, but he is convinced that the doctors know best, that Virginia is forgetting the bad times she went through.  Clarissa Vaughan finds herself to be the only one who can understand Richard, and also the only one who has a vision for the party and its guests.  Sally seems doubtful of everything coming together, and she clearly seems to resent Clarissa's near obsession with Richard.  Louis seems to make light of Clarissa's breakdown much like Leonard, again not out of a place of spite but more from taking things at face value, Clarissa said she's okay after a few minutes, so she's just okay in his mind.  Laura is confined to housewife status, clearly something she neither wants nor excels at, but everything around her is screaming that not only does she need to do it (housewife life) but that anyone can do it--the cake is very emblematic of this.

So by showing us that Virginia kills herself right away, and telling us that it isn't until 1941, viewers are stuck in the same place the heroines are.  We know what is going to happen, so when the other characters don't seem to recognize the severity of the matter it is frustrating to us.  Suicide for many viewers is probably a relatively foreign concept in that they themselves haven't seriously considered it.  This shared frustration helps viewers identity with Virginia and through her the other two main women.  And this connection is what ultimately drives the film, you don't want Clarissa's party to be spoiled, you want Laura to have a great birthday party for Dan, and probably most of all, you want to see Virginia happy.  Even though from the beginning it seems clear that nothing is really going to go well for any of them, you're still cheering for them because a piece of you deep inside probably has felt or feels like them.

Loving to Feel Hatred

Who do we want in life, friends or enemies?  Enemies inspire you to defeat them, friends support you when you need them.  Enemies are the antithesis to your life, friends are people to model.  Perhaps for those of us lucky enough to be able to motivate ourselves to action without an antagonist, an enemy isn't necessary.  For Clarissa Dalloway, it is.  "She hated her: she loved her" (170).  That her is Miss Doris Kilman, and her reasoning is simple, "Hot, hypocritical, corrupt; with all that power; Elizabeth's seducer; the woman who had crept in to steal and defile" (170).  Clearly the feeling is mutual, Miss Kilman certainly is no fan of Clarissa, which is unsurprising as they are both after the attention and affection of Elizabeth.  Maybe even more so is to leave an impression on Elizabeth, as they both fixate on whom Elizabeth's behavior resembles (or doesn't resemble).

It seems strange that Clarissa would ever say she loves Doris, really it seems strange for Clarissa to say she loves anyone, even Elizabeth or Richard (of course Richard can't say it at all).  But maybe that's just it, she makes Clarissa feel something—feel something in a way that her mind doesn't have to tell her how to feel, like when she straightens up as the car passes to feel more dignified, or when she feels her party isn't quite right because there isn't dancing.  This is an intense feeling, and really the only one I notice ever being described by Clarissa.  Put in this way this seems like a stark similarity to Septimus to follow from one of the panel presentations from my section today.  Septimus can't feel and he tries anything to feel, marrying Lucrezia hoping she can make him feel again.

So now comes the question: if Clarissa could, would she get rid of Doris, even though she "loves" her because she makes her feel something?  I would say the answer is no, because as Elizabeth is not independent, Clarissa really could stop Elizabeth from seeing her.  I think she chooses to allow her to stay, so as they can continue to have this war over Elizabeth.  To some extent I buy that the fear that if ever forced to choose, Elizabeth would pick Doris over Clarissa, does play a role in allowing Doris to stay.  Still though, I believe that Clarissa will do anything to keep the one feeling she has, even if it is hatred.

What Time is it?

Mrs. Dalloway takes place on one day in June 1923.  It is a character-centric novel, not a plot based one, so that short time frame works perfectly well.  Yet surprisingly, there is a common focus on time.  Often times Woolf stops her characters in the middle of thoughts to give us the time.  It is only on the second page that we first hear mention of Big Ben, by far the loudest clock Clarissa would hear in Westminster.  She says, "One feels even in the midst of traffic, or waking at night, Clarissa was positive, a particular hush, or solemnity; an indescribable pause; a suspense...before Big Ben strikes" (4).  It is a consciously understood that people pause when they feel the time has reached a significant milestone.  Clarissa doesn't elaborate on this behavior, indeed characters don't seem to pause before the impending "leaden circles" dissolve in the future, but I find it interesting that so early on, in fact in the same sentence we learn where Clarissa lives, time (a very important part of plot based stories) is mentioned.

For Woolf, it makes more sense structurally to keep bringing up time.  It gives readers a sense of proportion (one Sir William would no doubt approve of) as to how long different thoughts or conversations take place.  Peter and Clarissa's conversation is almost exactly thirty minutes, Clarissa questions who would interrupt her at eleven in the morning (39) while Peter steps onto the street from Clarissa house as the leaden circles dissolve after the half hour chimes (47).  It also allows her to swap between character's points of view very quickly, all while maintaining a linear line of movement in the story.  After we see Septimus and Lucrezia leave Sir William's office and read of Lucrezia's dislike of the man, it is the chiming of clocks that switches us to Hugh and Richard (100).  It is a quick and easy way to create a more traditional element to her story without compromising her intentions to make this about the people.

Then of course there is the idea of physical passing of time.  A lot of the characters think back to a different point in time in their life.  Clarissa and Peter (and Richard to some degree) think incessantly of what once was at Bourton.  Septimus and Lucrezia think back to their time in Italy, for Lucrezia the Septimus she fell in love with then, and for Septimus Evans and his ability to feel.  Time is something they all wish they can control, and can have more of, but of course time is constantly moving at a consistent rate.  I have no doubt time will continue to play a role in the remainder of the novel, especially at the party when the characters will probably spent most of the time reminiscing, though in general I still find it interesting that it has a large place in the novel at all.