Full disclosure. This is not a great movie. This is probably not even a good movie. But it is an interesting movie.
There, I said it.
There's some fun acting and an intriguing premise, but this one does suffer from the defects of a lot of indie film projects of the low-budget variety. So, if you can't enjoy micro-budget movies, just avoid this one. If you still find weird, little "writer meets alien while breaking up with his girlfriend" oddness potential to be fun, then The Green Woman just might make you happy for an hour and a half.
Now that that's out of the way, let's talk plot.
Rommy (short for Romulus -- Pretentious much?!) is a writer who is earning his keep but just barely. He's living with his girlfriend Mary, who is a severe Type A who constantly tries to push him into some kind of corporate, stable working environment. To add more stress to his life, Rommy begins to have visitations by a green-skinned alien woman who claims to have been sent by him (from the future) to help him in the present. Did I mention she's cute? That'll be important later. She also has a few favors she needs from him, mostly gathering random electronic parts he can steal from around his neighborhood.
The questions abound? Who is the green-skinned alien? Will Rommy and Mary reconcile? Why does he have to collect random electronics? Is the green woman even real or just a figment of his stressed, addled, alcohol-riddled, breaking-down brain?
I'm not going to answer those questions. You'll just have to watch the movie. Suffice it to say that it'll surprise you even after you think you have it all figured out.
If there's a lesson for writers to be learned, it is this: Being a writer can be a tough gig when you are with someone who (a) doesn't get it, (b) doesn't support it, or (c) wants you to relegate it to a hobby.
I know that sounds unfair to spouses and significant others who just want to be secure financially, and it's not to say that they can't encourage you to keep writing while pursuing some better-paying, more secure employment. But that's not the same thing as being against the very act of trying to make it as a writer simply because they don't value it or get it.
One can be helpful. The other can be mean and nasty at worst, or dismissive at best.
For example, when Mary returns home from work one afternoon, she finds Rommy in his pajamas.
She blasts: "Hey, listen, did you bother to do any work today, or did you just sit around in your PJs?"
This leads to assumption #1 -- Writing isn't real work.
Writing is real work. It's hard work, in fact. It's the kind of work that can tax the mind and the spirit. Maybe it's not throwing around 50-pound bags of seed or wrangling data out of spreadsheets and line items, but it's real, fruitful work regardless.
I'd dare any non-writer to even attempt to sit down in front of a blank page and try it.
Later, Mary continues to lay into Rommy, this time for what she considers not contributing to the household budget.
"It's not like it's my duty to support you, Romney," she says. "What would be the point of supporting someone when I make enough money here to support myself. You know, Lloyd says writing's a dying industry, says maybe you should get a job in marketing.
Maybe in her mind she's being helpful. I doubt it. It feels more like a dig to me. Get out of writing. It's dying. Find something less fulfilling, more soul-killing, like marketing and writing advertising copy.
That's both assumption #2 and assumption #3.
Assumption #2 is this -- Since writing isn't a real job, any money you make at it doesn't actually count. And any of that money doesn't really contribute to the bottom line since it's not guaranteed, especially if one is a freelancer.
Never you mind that, as I mentioned previously, Rommy is contributing. He's earning money. Just not corporate money. He and Mary aren't hurting, aren't nearing becoming destitute or homeless. They're just not wealthy.
Ready for assumption #3 -- Any kind of writing should be able to satisfy you.
After all, you're a writer, right? So writing cereal box copy or advertisements for fast food joints should be as fulfilling and rewards as working on your creative non-fiction or novel, shouldn't it?
This one falls more under the "doesn't get it" category. For someone not infected with the writing bug, it just doesn't make sense why one would wanto slave away on a risky novel when he/she/they could take that writing skill into a far more lucrative and useful area such as marketing. I used the analogy before, but this is a lot like trying to explain the taste of fresh strawberry's to a person without taste buds.
Finally, while having another argument later, Mary really lays it all bare and pretty much puts all her disgust out front and on full display.
"Well, maybe if you just dropped all this writing business, you could stop being such a drunken waste," she says.
And here comes assumption #4 -- You'd be a hell of a lot happier if you did something else. If you'd listen to me and get a real job with a real salary, then (because I equate money and security with happiness, so you should too) you won't be so stressed or mentally tired, and in Rommy's case, need to drink excessively.
Of course, Mary doesn't take into account any responsibility of her own in causing Rommy to feel bad, to feel like a failure, to feel like drinking. No, it couldn't be that. She's just wanting him to be practical.
Now, before it sounds like I'm bagging on being "unequally yoked" to a non-writer, I'm not. As I said above, there's a huge difference between having a supporting partner even if they don't get it and want to find middle ground between stability and chasing your dreams and having a partner who is consistantly demand that you and you alone change to fit the "standard mold" the world might demand of you.
One is a gift. The other is a nightmare.
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