At first I couldn’t see the creepy atmosphere that had
been described (and raved about) to me. The film was slow
and nearly dull. As I watched, I chuckled once or twice,
slightly aghast at the peculiarities and kept interested by
attention to color and the completeness of dialogue
exchanges.

 Then I turned it off for a short break.

 As I attempted to mix among my peers for a short while,
I realized what had been going on and why the film was so
heavily acclaimed.

 I was so immersed in their lives! In a state of
complete numbness, I had experienced the usual shock of
detaching myself from the film, which brought on the
realization of the effect their detachment had on me. I had
become so engrossed in the powerful slice-of-life, I
couldn’t recognize my own state of consciousness and
reality.

 These women were once successful, beautiful and
enveloped in high society’s warming glow. Now they live
amongst both physical and emotional rot, struggling to stay
sane within their detached atmosphere. The Maysles’ Bros.
have done something quite miraculous - they’ve captured the
waning moments between bitter regret when a mother and
daughter could connect with their tired instincts. They’ve
captured a portrait of aging solace gone sour. The
filmmakers have fed these raccoons (parallel to these old
women) and in return, the raccoons contributed to the
decaying social-abhorrence that calls we as individuals to
simultaneously mock and connect with people like this. This
is a miraculous achievement in filmmaking.

 Within this process, their documentary transcends the
showmanship and cinema verite inevitable when a camera is
turned on common people. It evolves into looped moments of
dark comedy, pitiful existence and, in the end, camaraderie
and a full-on love/hate relationship.

 It becomes painful to watch as you realize the trance
these two crazy women have you under. You start to loathe
them while at the same time you watch and crave more. The
film is more than just a freak show exhibiting what they’ve
become - it’s an offbeat masterpiece about the way people
deal with life as it passes them by.

 Immensely emotional sequences. The Maysles’ Bros. have,
as they did in their best film, Salesman, captured the
essence of life on film. They’ve done what other filmmakers
spend their lives aspiring to - they’ve captured life at
twenty-four frames per second, flawlessly. They’ve done it
so effectively, it alters the mood of the viewer like a
strong narcotic.

 Who’d of thought the documentary-ready setting of an
old house containing two tired, broken women, could capture
the mind and soul so carefully? Who’d of pegged something
this bleak for groundbreaking brilliance?

 The film is absolutely jarring. It ends and I can’t
believe it. The film just ends. It’s a completely unique and
overpowering experience. At least half of the dialogue is
muffled beyond recognition and yet, Grey Gardens is more
affecting than most narrative, intentionally drama-aimed
films.

 While the house looks as if it was once abandoned and
then embraced by two women who didn’t care to fix it - it’s
not about dilapidated real estate or insane women living
amongst the ruins - it’s about what our lives become and how
sometimes the past stays with you and lives in the present -
like a ghost who can’t seem to find rest, haunting whomever
will listen.