Diane is a tough film, but also a necessary one. This is a film made for anyone who has felt the crushing despair that comes in times of tragedy, when we fall as if our lives are falling apart, and there is nothing we can do, no matter how hard we try to hold it all together. Kent Jones managed to create a film that borrows heavily from the realist school of art in his endeavour to make a compelling, beautiful but unquestionably harrowing story about one woman and her attempts to rebuild her life in times of tragedy, and how she manages to stay afloat despite the impending threat of disaster. This is not a film that will make anyone feel particularly pleased – it is a tough film about very serious issues. However, its also a film that tackles difficult subjects with a fierce intensity, grasping them in a way that very few films would dare, and showing us that life, despite all its challenges, is always worth living, even if we know there isn’t always cause for celebration. Diane is amongst the years most quiet but passionate statements on the human condition, a bleak social drama that finds the warmth in even the bleakest of moments, and serves to be a potent reminder that below every bad situation, there is a lesson to be learned – and whether that is to do with ourselves as individuals, or with society as a whole, there’s always some deeper meaning to every situation, whether good or bad.
Diane (Mary Kay Place) is an ordinary woman, someone who is not defined by any particular outward characteristic or quality, but who has risen to become a valuable member of the community in her small town. A naturally empathetic woman, she spends most of her days at the service of others – whether sitting at the bedside of her wisecracking cousin Donna (Deirdre O’Connell), making sure that her ex-addict son (Jake Lacy) has not relapsed, or working in a local soup kitchen for the needy, she works hard to give back to her community. However, below the compassion lies a broken woman, someone who has lived a difficult life, one filled with despair and unhappiness, where she has had to overcome many obstacles, surmounting seemingly impossible challenges. This has all built her into a much stronger woman than she realizes – yet, no amount of strength can help her with the impending cataclysm, as she starts to see her life fall apart around her – her friends start to pass away, her family seems to slowly forget about her, and she herself finds it difficult to engage with the world around her. Diane is convinced there is a deeper meaning to life, something that she has not realized, a purpose that she has, but has yet to discover. Over the years, she goes in search of it, but soon realizes that perhaps the answers aren’t always where we expect to find them.
The first aspect of Diane that the audience notices is that it lacks a tangible storyline – we are presented with the titular character, who is just a simple woman navigating a variety of challenges. This is essentially all there is to it, yet Jones has somehow managed to construct one of the year’s most captivating films, an engaging character study that feels as fascinating as it is moving. Finding itself at the narrative crossroads between the gritty beauty of realism and the stream-of-consciousness of early modernism, Diane is a powerful film that is remarkably simple, despite being very layered in its approach to some very difficult subjects. There aren’t many films that are as daring as this in how it looks at life, representing it is as it is, without embellishment. It is important to note that Jones didn’t make a film that will be embraced – its a cold, harsh and often harrowing piece where joy is almost entirely absent, and hope is a rare commodity. However, it is a beautiful film, a poetic expression of life and its many challenges and proof that life is not only lived in periods of good and bad but also the moments in between, where even the most inconsequential of events can change our perspective. Oddly uplifting without ever needing to innoculate the sometimes harrowing subject matter, Diane is a film that means a lot more than its small scope would suggest.
At the core of Diane is Mary Kay Place, who gives quite possibly the best performance of the year. A quiet but intense portrayal of a woman struggling against the forces that keep threatening to tear her down, she is absolutely masterful, finding the pathos in a role that could have so easily been prone to excess. Place is not an actress who has received a considerable amount of recognition, despite being extremely gifted, with her talents often being used in small but memorable supporting roles. She’s always a welcome presence, and her work is consistently very good, even if we don’t see much of it. Diane certainly repairs this, giving her a complex role that allows her to be in nearly every frame of the film. A chronicle of a life such as this is a challenge for any performer, and when it is a role that doesn’t necessarily harbour any particularly noteworthy qualities in the traditional sense, it can be easy for it to be forgotten entirely. However, Place’s performance is astounding – her interpretation of Diane is filled with sincerity and pluck, and she is absolutely vibrant with emotion. There is not a single false moment in her performance, and everything she does feels so natural and authentic. When given the opportunity to play it to the rafters (as many actors would tend to do), Place goes for a more subdued approach, with some of the most meaningful moments in the film being found in her expressivity or subtle gesturing that hints at an actress who understands that this character isn’t just a singular figure, but a representation of an entire generation of women who face their own struggles on a daily basis, and her simple but nuanced work is not only a testament to her immense talents, but to her admirable humanity as well.
Diane is very much set within the realm of social realism, and while it does follow a few years in the life of the titular character, it is remarkably free of a single narrative, rather serving to be a series of moments in the life of Diane and the various challenges she faces. An episodic portrayal of existence, where scattered moments form snapshots of a single life, we are privy to the trials and tribulations of a woman navigating a world that she feels out of place in. The simplicity of the film is what drives it, and allows it to flourish into the quiet and meditative masterpiece that it is. Like many works of social realism, especially those by the likes of Mike Leigh, Ken Loach and Vittorio de Sica (all of which seem to be influences on this film), implication is imperative – the film approaches its story as one where the small details matter the most, and nothing is ever explicitly stated. There are many instances of major plot details not being conveyed through subtle inferences rather than being clearly shown – it requires the viewer to be attentive, and surrender themselves to the often labyrinthine (but not impenetrable) nature of the film, where there doesn’t appear to be a clear destination this film is heading, with the majority of the story taking place in the metaphysical moments of travail between major events that aren’t even shown that often. Diane is a film built out of the “moments in-between”, those we rarely see in films, mainly because they are perceived as being banal or redundant, but are here repurposed as glorious moments of revelatory meaning.
Diane is a film that exists simply to comment on life and everything in it, which it does incredibly well. It is an unpredictable film, and one that shows how life is filled with joys and innundated with sorrows, and that no one can expect what will happen next. There are good days and bad days, and moments that are worth celebrating, as well as those that need to be mourned – but most of all, Jones is showing that life is not something to be taken for granted. We all have our own individual experiences and are fighting our own battles that force us to deal with certain quandaries that all serve to lead back to the universally enigmatic question of our purpose. Diane is an empathetic and quietly beautiful film that may not appear to say much on the surface but has an immense amount of emotion pulsating through the core. The film looks at some very difficult themes, but never falls into complete despair, because it shows that there is always hope out there, whether for recovery, forgiveness or just a better day. Incredible motivational without being saccharine, Diane is an intimate, poetic drama that is powerfully moving and a poignant reminder that life is sacred, unpredictable and unquestionably beautiful.
The Postmodern Pelican 
The electronic pulse of a heartbeat on a monitor is first heard in the opening shot of Diane. We traditionally identify this rhythm with the sound of life in a pregnancy. Director / screenwriter Kent Jones surprises us by attaching this sound to an image of a woman terminal with cancer. As we adjust to the unique and intentional flip, Jones throws another curveball. The camera focuses on the face of a sleeping visitor, an aging woman, who is the subject of concerned study by the cancer patient. This is going to be an exploration of the end of life.
Mary Kay Place gives a strong performance as an aging woman who keep herself in constant motion. She delivers casseroles to the homebound, visits the ailing at the hospital, swings by her son’s home to check on his progress with a private battle with drug addiction, sees her elderly mother, and off to work at the local food bank. As the progression of good deeds is shown to us, we slowly realize that Diane is more than a do gooder. She is filling hours. The intent is unclear. Perhaps she wants distracting from the inevitability of death. Perhaps she is filling her hours to avoid tedium. Perhaps she simply finds value in service to others and enjoys the company.
The end of life is promoted as a time to relax, enjoy the rewards of a good life. Jones and Place understand that aging has an expanse of time for reflection. Some find joy in the past. However, we cannot raise our children again. We cannot relive former love affairs and undo mistakes. We cannot go back to our jobs and employ our hard won wisdom. We have been replaced with younger, stronger, more vibrant employees.
Diane spends this time regretful. She is shamed by a love affair that resulted in decisions she regrets. Unable to forgive herself and absolve her guilt, Diane struggles. Another person might shrug her shoulders and laugh at the indiscretion. For Diane, the transgression is unforgiveable. All of these busy chores depicted in the film are merely efforts to push away ill will about past actions that cannot be rewritten. Diane shows us the slow erosion of one’s sense of self when self love cannot be found to remove past mistakes.
Diane is Jones’s first film. We expect first time directors to be young. Again we are surprised Jones who sees 60 in the rear view mirror began his career as an archivist for his life long friend Martin Scorsese and continued in the work of film history for many decades. He brings distinctive sensibility to the creation of his initial foray into narrative film. He spent 20 years from the initial idea to a completed screenplay. Before shooting began he orchestrated rehearsals for the camera to insure it would capture what Jones wanted to see. The actual shoot was 20 days. Subsequently Jones spent five months in the editing room. This surprising work process results in a film with the assuredness of a mature filmmaker. The errors of first time directors are not present. Diane is a fine film.