Kajillionaire

And Keeping Ex-Cons From Making A Difference

I don’t really have a lot of time for the “comedy is dead” crowd. Nobody ever stopped laughing except them, and I think the rest of us compensated by laughing at them. So no-talent nobodies like Tim Dillion (this week, of course – every week there’s a new Tim Dillon) are celebrated as being allegedly funny people for their middlebrow mediocrity, but no one wants to acknowledge that Miranda July is one of the country’s great humorists across multiple media. You might have to read short stories and watch independent film to get that, but, you know, god forbid. When parts of the culture gravitate away from you, you should stop being offended and take the hint.

July doesn’t appear in “Kajillionaire”, which she wrote and directed. But you can see her spirit in the lead character, Old Dolio, played by Evan Rachel Wood. She disguises herself in frumpy boy’s clothes, walks with a lurch, and affects a deep croak of a voice. Since she’s been groomed since childhood to be a con artist like her mother and father, there’s an open question if this is who she is or if these are characteristics fromf the scams they’ve pulled, the characters she’s played, and the lies she has told.

It becomes clear early on that this has been a lifetime of cons, each one minor and forgettable. An extra $200 here, $45 there, and hey, these coupons are valuable, save each one. This is one of those ideas where I don’t have to credit Ms. July, but why not – this is a movie where July seems to have done no research on actual con artists, and their schemes are laughably flimsy, which adds to the plausibility that they might work, but also seems like more of a movie invention. A surrender to realism has become a modern priority in Hollywood over the last thirty years, as any time someone has to make a movie about a professional, they have to get perfect advice about what that profession entails. Yes, it’s cool when Michael Mann talks to actual safecrackers to make “Thief”. But if you acknowledge that you’re trying to tell a story, that this is a movie (which “Kajillionaire” is), then you should be free to invent whatever wacky nonsense you’d like. Fidelity to the truth is fine, but it’s not mandatory, and sometimes it just gives people a license to ignore their imagination. All movies used to be like this. Now, if you’ve got a major film set, you have to have a pro onboard reminding you How This Would Really Happen.

These increasingly-absurd cons, of course, are covert shows of love between Old Dolio and her parents Robert (Richard Jenkins) and Teresa (Debra Winger). Old Dolio accepted that as a child, but now in her twenties she’s having thoughts of regret. Though it goes unmentioned, politically she has sublimated the self for the whole, and in doing so she has ensured she is tied to her parents for the rest of their existence. Comrade, this is not ideal! Old Dolio dreams of better opportunities for herself. But she also wants to leave her parents better off than when they made her. One final act of genuine love so she can be emancipated.

During the planning of one particular scheme, the clan bumps into Melanie (Gina Rodriguez), who contrasts with their family by virtue of simply seeming normal. Melanie tells them a white lie about her actual employment, though it is unnecessary – she is absolutely Martian to them because she has made the choice to try and succeed within the “system.” Melanie connects with the family because being a con artist is alluring, exciting. She could punch the clock every day, or she could live this exciting life of, basically, gambling. Of course, to Melanie, this family is a lot more successful than they actually are. Watching her let herself get seduced by this trio is like seeing someone you know sign up for a pyramid scheme.

But what startles Old Dolio is seeing her family grow closer to Melanie. For years, young Old Dolio (man, do I love typing Old Dolio) saw herself becoming an “equal” to her parents, something of a mixed blessing for obvious reasons. And yet, Melanie is accepted like a surrogate daughter, which angers but also confuses Old Dolio. Has she wasted her time all these years, irrationally thinking they were going to finally become parents, only to see them develop those instincts with another person? I’m not sure if this is universal, but I can understand it, and I feel like a lot of others can as well. Now Old Dolio has to wrestle with being left by the people she intended to leave. And what does she do with the newfound affection coming from Melanie?

July’s previous two films – the winsome “The Future”, but primarily “Me And You And Everyone We Know” – focus primarily on how we often fail to find connection, particularly when it’s in front of us. “Kajillionaire” is a comedy, and it’s often very funny – Jenkins in particular is a virtuoso as a soft-stepping manipulator. But it’s also about finding that light in our life, whether or not it makes a conventional sense. July doesn’t necessarily seem to believe in “destiny”. Through her work, she has emphasized that you have to pursue love and support wherever you can find it. Old Dolio has no “accepted path” towards a partner, a husband or a wife or a friend, because she’s not an accepted person. And in July’s work, women like her get to finally be, if not accepted, at least acceptable.

When it comes to people getting out of prison, it seems to be common for the mainstream to say, “I am glad they are getting a second chance to contribute to our society.” And they will often say it out loud, at least until the ex-con in question wishes to move in next door, or work in the same profession. There are millions of people in the world who have done time and now they are a part of a community, they work at a job that helps others, and they act as law abiding citizens. But perhaps that’s just not enough in some cases.

Calvin Duncan won an election recently to serve as a court clerk in New Orleans. His intention was to target the prosecutorial circumstances that sent him to prison for a full thirty years, until he was finally exonerated. Duncan secured a law license as he fought for his innocence from a maximum security prison, and his exoneration was official – this is the first I’ve learned of the National Registration of Exonerations, which seems to exist specifically for times like this. Yet, as he ran for the clerk position, Louisiana Governor Jeff Landry and his successor Liz Murrill have vowed legal action if Duncan continued to refer to himself as exonerated, which… I dunno, Jeff Landry, what’s wrong with you? There’s a National Registration specifically to ensure that guys like you (and you too, Liz) don’t sound this petty and stupid.

Duncan was just sworn in as clerk, despite a threat from the GOP legislature led by Landry. Using an accelerated timeline, Landry and his colleagues sought to actively eliminate the position, claiming they were “streamlining” the process even though this would invalidate the results of a democratic election and eliminate Duncan’s job. What we have here is someone who was unjustly incarcerated and is returning to assist and improve a dysfunctional system, and a group of bureaucrats who not only don’t want this, but they want him to be inaccurately considered a criminal for the rest of his life. And now is the time when I ask you, reader, based only on a hunch: what color do you think Calvin Duncan’s skin happens to be? The hint is that you’ve played this game before, and you’ve been right every time.