It's a classic diet standoff.
On one side is the newly cast single father Ted (Dustin Hoffman), who pushes Salisbury Steak for Gloss TV Dinner. The other has Ted's seven-year-old Billy (Justin Henry).
Little is cute in the relationship between Ted and Billy – many achievements should go to Henry, who is as good as Hoffman – and the lightness and calm moments are a fierce battle.
After a few seconds of nervousness, Billy takes the plunge. Ted snatches him, kicks him and screams, and throws him in his room. “I hate you!” yells Billy. Ted should just leave, but before he knocks on the door he can't resist the following: “I hate you right away, you're a little s**t!”
Bad Dad
I'm sure that felt great, right? At least for that moment before it felt terrible. If you haven't gone there, “Kramer vs. Kramer” may not be a movie for you. If you have, we welcome one of the most honest films about the paternal frustration you've ever seen.
“Kramer vs. Kramer” appeared in 1979, and ever since, occupational addictive families who need to learn what's really important have become traditional multiplex staples. Harrison Ford (“Regarding Henry”), Adam Sandler (“Click”), Jim Carrey (“Lie Liar”), and Eddie Murphy (“Imagination”) have listed all the stamps in the role, given several names. And you probably saw that film where Michael Keaton is reborn as a snowman.
But Hoffman's Ted Kramer is unique and unpleasantly realistic. Like his successor, he has proverbs pressing the “big account” (he is the man of the ads) to allow him to break his child. And when we first met him, he is late in the office. But he is not working – at least not the standard for normal film shorthand for “work.” Instead, he kicks and tells him he's talking about buying a Burberry court.
So that you never did it.
My generation's confusion
Ted just pays attention to his child because he has to. His wife, Joanna, “find” herself by skipping town in classic 1970s fashion. Looking back, she is a terrible mom. The letter she sent to Billy justifying her abandonment is purely choking up the mentally ill of my generation — but she is 30-year-old Meryl Streep, who seems to take her breath.
The film opens with her in a stunning close-up, lit up like a bar mail, staring at the sleeping boy and at the end he says he loves him. Don't worry that she's probably learning macrame and resting to try polyamory in Santa Barbara's “deliberate community.” Her otherworldly bounty takes seconds and you want her for your mother too. This seems far more incompetent when comparing Ted's rather selfish and human attempts to start raising a child.
Improvisational ugly
Hoffman had gone through his own divorce at the time (with his children), which shows. At the very least, I don't think you'll get a loyal and faithful performance to life without attracting personal experiences. Ted's anger towards Joanna is raw and ugly (Hoffman obviously improvised a hurling wine glass that cut off their first post-divorce meeting), but what's truly brave is how Hoffman leachs some of that anger into his relationship with Ted and his son.
Consider the dinner table scene mentioned above. Even before the tension explodes, Ted cannot avoid brutally mimicking Billy's whine. Or the scene where Billy spills juices all over Ted's important paper. Billy is instantly complimented and repented, but Ted cannot stop him from ranting. Only after Billy's third or fourth lonely “sorry” can he catch himself.
Little is cute in the relationship between Ted and Billy – many achievements should go to Henry, who is as good as Hoffman – and the lightness and calm moments are a fierce battle. Just as Ted does his best to become a more enthusiastic father, Hoffman doesn't let his character forget about his character's struggles to overcome his selfishness.
“No replies”
There is no singularly iconic moment when Ted finally beats his petty adult concerns and actually “gets” his child. “Kramer vs. Kramer” understands that parenting challenges are fundamentally at odds with what society is telling us that we are happy and functioning. That's what makes it so difficult – and very rewarding (sometimes): It's a battle you have to fight every day.
In other words, “no replies.” It is “Con” number 5 on the list of pros and cons and is created (with the advice of his lawyer) when deciding whether he really wants custody. Cons 1 to 4 are “money”, “no privacy”, “not affected by work”, and “no social life”. There are no “pros”. It seems totally destructive to acknowledge such anxiety in this age and in an era of extreme parenting.
On the first morning of his new life as an unchanging single father, Ted tries to make French toast for Billy. He puts the shells in the egg, forgets the milk, and folds the bread. He doesn't know what he's doing and is frightening.
But Ted does his best to hide it in a ruthless stream of bright, almost hysterical patterns. “Are you having a good time? We're having a great time – I don't remember having such a good time last time.” His mask doesn't slip until he picks up a hot frying pan and drops breakfast all over the floor. After a brief meltdown he's back to reassure both of them that everyone is fine.
Kramer vs. Kramer is a film from the time, as a portrait of a “traditional” father who awakens to a new social reality of the 1970s. That resonates today is partly thanks to good old, high-quality filmmaking.
But that's also thanks to the universal that Hoffman found in Ted. He is a man who instantly strives to put his fear and selfishness aside to care for others (often just feeling like he is presenting in the fear and selfishness of others). He could actually crush him at any time to bluff that he was completely home in his authority. That could be in a general job description for being a parent. It's not easy for Hotshot Manhattan advertising executives to get caught up in the feminist revolution, but is it easy for everyone?
