Some kind of heaven

Director Lance Oppenheimer, from Florida, did film studies interstate but was interested in the story of The Villages, the large retirement enclave, its lifestyle, the residents. He takes his audience inside The Villages, initially giving the impression that it was partying seven days a week, with some of the residents saying that they came to live not to pass away. The residents were there to live the dream, and, specifically, the American dream. And, it seems very much the white American dream (one African-American giving a favourable comment on the place, the Hispanic-Americans seeming to be only on the staff).

The film opens energetically, kinetically (hyper-kinetically in fact), with elderly men and women in rowing teams, all kinds of dancing, all kinds of exercise, everyone seemingly on the go. It seems rather exhausting, especially for those of us sitting comfortably in our seats watching.

And then someone remarks that it is a Disneyworld for retirees, lots of fountain of youth language.

Then we go behind these exuberant scenes and are introduced to a number of the residents. One of whom, Ann Kincer, with whom we become more and more sympathetic as the film goes on, reminds us that this is not the real world, that it is not vacation every day, and that it is something of a bubble. And, in the vast area, it seems there are 130,000 residents.

As we go behind the cheery activities, we are introduced to real issues. One focus is on an unsympathetic 81-year-old drifter, Dean, living in his van, trying to sponge on friends and relatives, going to The Villages to find a female companion, preferably with money. He does. She seems to know what he is after but she enjoys his company. We could have done with less of Dean throughout the film.

In contrast to Dean is Barbara, not long widowed, wandering rather forlornly through everything, an acting class, getting her nails done, getting her hair done, attending a session where everyone has a tambourine to hit in rhythm. Eventually, she gets a lift from the margarita man in his wagon, chats, dances, likes margaritas, seeming to find some happiness.

However, the main narrative concerns a couple, Reg and Ann Kincer, 47 years married. He is an eccentric, not afraid of relying on some drugs, even cocaine. His erratic behaviour leads to an arrest, charges, and court appearance. He defends himself in the court despite the judge continually telling him he was the rudest defendant he had ever encountered. But Ann reminds us that she took vows, for better or worse, and she continues to support her husband. She is sympathetic in herself – but even more so in her support for her husband who would try even the most tolerant of cinema audiences.

So, would we like to go to The Villages and enjoy the extroverted lifestyle? Probably many of us would prefer to find some kind of quieter alternative.

An interesting exercise is to read the bloggers on the IMDb, many interested in the portrait of The Villages and the lifestyle, as well as the portrait of the residents. Others target The New York Times, one of the producing companies, suggesting that this is a hatchet job. A number of the actual residents in high dudgeon, considering this an unwarranted attack on the lives and lifestyle of those who live in The Villages.