3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for drug use and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang
Sometimes what seems like a
comfortable rut actually is a slow slide into prolonged depression, at which
point an unexpected crisis — or two — can transform unconfronted anxieties into
utter despair.
That’s the subject of director
Brett Haley’s sweet, gentle drama, which draws its strength from a subtle and
deeply layered performance by Blythe Danner. She stars as Carol Petersen, a
comfortably retired single woman who — if asked —would insist that she has made
peace with the unexpected loss of a beloved husband, some 20 years earlier.
After all, Carol’s life is filled
with activity, much of it revolving around gardening, golf and boisterous
bridge games — not much bridge actually being played — with longtime gal pals
Rona (Mary Kay Place), Sally (Rhea Perlman) and Georgina (June Squibb). Carol’s
schedule is disciplined to a reasonable degree, from the 6 a.m. wake-up buzz of
her alarm clock, to a bit of television before lights out somewhere around 11
p.m. each evening.
But Carol hasn’t actually been
alone; she has come to depend upon the constant presence of her beloved dog,
Hazel. And therein lies the potential for emotional collapse.
After deftly establishing the
parameters of Carol’s routine, Haley and co-scripter Marc Basch open their
narrative with a gut-wrenching sequence. Hazel clearly is old, and so we’re not
surprised by what occurs ... but animal lovers will have considerable
difficulty surviving the subsequent scene in a veterinarian’s office, as Carol
bids goodbye to her longtime companion.
Danner plays the scene so
persuasively that I wondered if it could be genuine, the actress huskily trying
to maintain composure while confronting the need to “do the kind thing” for an
actual devoted pet. The scene feels that genuine, as anybody who has been there
can attest.
And, suddenly, all the scheduled
activities that have structured Carol’s life, for so long, have lost their
luster. She’s hard-pressed to identify the actual problem, and at this point —
this early in the film — she may not even be consciously aware that her
fragility is rising.
Haley’s film is less a
conventional drama, with strong plot points, and more a thoughtful tone poem:
an often painfully intimate opportunity for us, as viewers, to confront our own
perceived stability. The verisimilitude is strong. Danner’s Carol could be the
vibrant and cheerful neighbor next door: the one with whom we exchange pleasant
greetings, but rarely probe further. In a way, Haley and Basch quietly suggest
that there’s much to be gained from getting to know such folks better, because
we’re all — each of us — worth
knowing better.
In terms of tone and execution,
this modest character portrait evokes pleasant memories of Cairo Time and Enough Said,
which gave their respective stars (Patricia Clarkson, Julia Louis-Dreyfus)
similar opportunities for quietly memorable performances in modest, real-world
storylines.
In the wake of Hazel’s departure,
Carol’s uncomplicated schedule is interrupted by three invaders. The first is
decidedly unwelcome: a large black rat that scurries across her living room,
prompting a night’s sleep outside, on the back yard patio sofa. She’s caught
there, the following morning, by the mildly surprised pool guy (Martin Starr,
as Lloyd), who initially fears that she might be dead.
Once flustered introductions are
behind them, Carol discovers that Lloyd is rather easy to talk to: the total
stranger who pays her the compliment of listening attentively. After a few
glasses of wine, Lloyd returns the favor by tagging her as an ideal “drinking
buddy.”
Lloyd is a case unto himself: a
late twentysomething utterly adrift, making ends meet while trying not to think
about an uncertain future. Starr, a busy TV and big-screen presence in all
sorts of small roles, makes the most of this central supporting performance. He
underplays Lloyd almost — but not quite — to the point of comedic caricature,
his warily deadpan expression concealing intelligence and interest.
The resulting friendship is as
unlikely as the growing bond is genuine. They discover a shared interest in
music: Carol the veteran of a long-ago band, Lloyd a would-be poet and (possibly)
budding songwriter with a fondness for karaoke.
Needless to say, Rona draws absolutely
the wrong conclusion, when she happens to see Lloyd exiting Carol’s house early
one morning.
Rona, Sally and Georgina live in
a retirement community conveniently adjacent to a golf course; they’ve been
trying to get Carol to join them for years, but she has resisted, preferring
the greater control of her life that one gets, in one’s own house. But she
nonetheless spends a fair amount of time at the facility — actually Royal Oaks,
a senior community in the San Gabriel Valley community of Duarte — and
therefore comes to the attention of Bill (Sam Elliott), a crusty, invariably
smiling fellow who radiates smoldering sex appeal.
Bill isn’t shy about making his
interest known; Carol, after a bit of flirty byplay, isn’t shy about
responding. The resulting courtship draws its poignant energy from the ruggedly
debonair Elliott, a long undersung actor who always brings solid acting chops to the table. Why Elliott never
achieved genuine A-list status remains a mystery; the man easily commands a
scene, genuinely blowing everybody else off the screen ... and it’s a credit to
Danner, that she keeps up with him.
On top of which, Elliott has a
twinkle in his eye to die for. And his range always has been impressive; his
work here couldn’t be more different than the vicious, thoroughly evil bastard
he just finished playing during the final season of television’s Justified.
So: Lloyd, Bill ... and that damn
black rat. What’s a woman to do?
The combustible emotional brew is
further spiced by the arrival of Carol’s daughter, Katherine (Malin Akerman).
They appear close, but apparently don’t visit often; the bond is strong, but
Carol seems not to have quite surmounted the mother/daughter dynamic, to start
regarding Katherine as a friend and confidante.
Perlman, Squibb and Place are a
collective hoot: Sally feisty and somewhat naughty; Georgina tart-tongued and
mildly disapproving; Rona primly reserved, but always yielding to what the
others suggest. Akerman is a nice surprise: believably tender and compassionate
in a quiet role that is leagues removed from the overly broad nonsense in which
she’s usually found.
Haley co-funded this film via a
Kickstarter campaign that raised $61,365 from backers no doubt charmed by the
project’s raison d’être: “You can’t
turn back the clock, but you can wind it up again.” He got considerable mileage
from the modest budget, drawing droll and compelling performances from the
entire cast, and delivering a series of thoroughly compelling interludes.
This is truly a case where the
journey itself becomes far more important than a destination which (as far as
I’m concerned) is telegraphed by one early sequence.
That said, Haley and Basch
sometimes yield to cliché, as if struggling to fill their film’s already brief
92-minute running time. Carol’s awkward experiment with speed dating, and
Haley’s handling of same, seem pointless and play like similar sequences we’ve
seen too many times before. That’s also true of another interlude, when Carol
and her friends indulge in some medical marijuana, and then go on a munchie
run: another way-familiar detour that feels contrived, and not worthy of the
film’s many other authentic character moments.
Happily, Danner’s effervescent,
deeply felt performance surmounts these minor hiccups. I can’t imagine this
film even getting noticed — let alone surviving — in today’s unforgiving
big-screen marketplace, but I’d like to think it’ll have a long and happy life
via home video, which is better suited to this tender story’s intimacy.
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