Lies, Damn Lies and Stolen Biscuits: Wendy and Jon Savage

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#5: Missy and Cliff Pantone (Bring It On)

There’s a scene -

(I start SO MANY pieces of writing with this phrase, for no other reason than this is how things strike me: a scene, a moment, something on screen that gets close to encapsulating or complicating something, and my brain is off. So - )

There’s a scene in The Savages, Tamara Jenkins’ 2007 film, where Wendy (Laura Linney) and her brother Jon (Philip Seymour Hoffman) go to a support group for adult children whose parents have dementia. While neither are close to their dad, Lenny, they’ve found themselves caring - and finding care - for him, reluctantly but with a sense of wavering filial duty. Wendy and Jon are closer to each other, marginally, than they are with their father, but it’s an uneasy siblinghood, marred by distance, disapproval and divergent lives.

Wendy doesn’t fully trust her brother not to leave her with the responsibility of looking after Lenny; after she finds out about his declining health, she calls Jon and yells at him on the phone: “Don’t you dare leave me with this, Jon!” When they meet, Jon is braced for critique, pre-empting his sister’s comments on his weight gain. They are supportive of each other, and yet ruthless: Wendy’s blithe lies about a prestigious fellowship are undone by Jon with such a blend of method and ease that we know it cannot be the first time.

So to the support group scene. Wendy and Jon are late, not sure if they should be (or want to be) there, and they hover awkwardly by the door. There’s a plate of biscuits on a table next to them. Jon picks up a biscuit and passes it to Wendy. This detail is nothing (Jon is closer to the biscuits) and everything (iron-clad conspiracy in sugared form).

The Savages are quickly reprimanded for their transgression - biscuits are for after the meeting, they are told - and the film moves on. There are other touching moments between the siblings, not least at the end of the film, when Wendy reveals her latest work-in-progress play to her brother, which re-imagines his traumatic childhood. But this moment with the biscuits is so well-crafted because it’s a reminder that although sibling solidarity can be big, it can also be small, a moment of camaraderie contained in one contraband cookie. Faced resolutely with being adults, neither Wendy nor Jon can resist the pull of gleefully childish behaviour.

Both PSH and Laura Linney are spectacular in this film, but then Linney in particular has form at playing sisterhood well on screen: You Can Count on Me and Love Actually are both good examples of this. A lot of siblinghood is about history, and the way these two actors play brother and sister makes you believe that history, layers of lies and confidences and schemes and cover-ups and exposures and rescues, all baked in.