REVIEW
Based off the tumultuous and anguished childhood of Augusten Burroughs, Running with Scissors: A Personal Memoir was first published in 2002.  Amidst claims of sensationalism and fabrication, Running with Scissors was nonetheless slated for production in 2005 with Ryan Murphy set to direct an A-list line up that would make any mega-studio drool.  By all accounts, it seemed that Running with Scissors was destined for critical and box office greatness.

Ha, ha, ha.  Sorry.  Couldn’t help it.

Running with Scissors is the story of the abandonment and supposed emancipation of Augusten Burroughs.  With a young Augusten (Jack Kaeding) listening covertly to his mother’s poetry reading meeting, hanging on the every word of the twisted and neurotic Deirdre (Annette Bening), the first scene makes two things abundantly clear.  Augusten adores his mother.  And Deirdre is a deluded wanna-be poetry writer who is seriously deranged.  Misplaced adoration?  I think so.

When the unstable Deirdre is convinced that Augusten’s alcoholic father, Norman (Alec Baldwin) is out to put an end to her creative freedom and ultimately her life, she turns to the unnervingly calm and stool obsessed Dr. Finch (Brian Cox) for therapeutic release.  Moving into a hotel and an unclear relationship with Dr. Finch, Deirdre abandons the 14 year old Augusten (Joseph Cross) to the psychotic and dysfunctional Finch family which includes a serious goody-two-shoes elder sister who indulges in “Bible-dipping” (Gwyneth Paltrow), a rebellious younger sister (Evan Rachel Wood) who has a thing for electro-shock therapy and a doormat of a mother (Jill Clayburgh) who eats dog food while staring blankly at the TV . . . all day long.

Augusten struggles to remain at the sick Deirdre’s side but, realizing the depth of her illness/how lame she really is, resigns himself to living with this insane family.  He skips school to study cosmetology, takes on an older lover (Joseph Fiennes) and befriends Natalie (Evan Rachel Wood), the only other kindred soul who recognizes the Finch home as the entrapping hell hole that it is.

You would expect to find in this film a great deal of freedom - freedom to explore the facets of these unique and troubled characters, freedom to think, freedom to look at someone different than yourself and figure out what makes them tick. 

You don’t figure out anything in this film.  The characters are just there – unique and quirky paper cut-outs that, when turned to the side, completely disappear.  There is no rhyme or reason to their personalities, no method behind their madness, no attempts made to move forward and heal their personal issues.  Instead of freedom and exploration, there is stagnation, entrapment, spiritless irrationality.  From the moment Augusten enters the Finch house with its clutter, garbage and overall state of disarray, there is no longer any air to breathe.  He is stuck in a swirling vortex of darkness, forever being pulled down deeper and deeper, with no way out.  And you are stuck with him. 

Fuelling this sense of entrapment is Deirdre Burroughs herself.  Bening, utterly phenomenal in this role, makes Deirdre’s mental illness sincere, gripping and completely debilitating to all of those around her.  I wanted to spit at her, deck her and have absolutely nothing to do with her for the rest of my life . . . all at the same time.  There was unbridled hatred here and while this deep, powerful emotional response provided a solid connection with the film – nothing came of the connection.  There was no pay off, no release.  For while Cross does a relatively good job in portraying a sympathetic and engaging Augusten, he never bursts out, yells, screams, chops off the heads of the people around him like I was craving him to do.  He merely reacts, succinctly turning his character from heroic to pathetic.  

Thus, despite a touching scene with Agnes Finch, Augusten’s “escape” at movie’s end is anticlimactic at best.  Everyone had gotten so under my skin, had pushed me to the brink of personal madness that I was dying to live vicariously through Augusten’s powerful and outrageous response to these insane people.  But he wasn’t powerful.  He wasn’t outrageous.  He was calmly, frustratingly resigned to his fate.  What the?  Sorry Augusten, but you let me down.  You let me down.

Beyond the emotional letdown, and in some ways because of the emotional letdown, Running with Scissors was confused – confused about whether it was telling Deirdre or Augusten’s story, whether it was meant to be funny or serious, whether it was serious about these crazy characters or whether it just wanted to throw them all up on the screen to stare at for while.  Some movies can encompass both and not feel disconnected.  Scissors was not one of those movies.