Because we spend so much time inside her protagonist’s head, there was only one way to successfully bring Ann Leary’s 2013 novel to the big screen.
Happily, writer/directors Maya Forbes and Wallace Wolodarsky — with a scripting assist from Thomas Bezucha — took the bold approach.
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| Although much of her life is sliding down the drain, Hildy (Sigourney Weaver) always finds joy while walking her dogs with longtime friend Frank (Kevin Kline). |
Outwardly, she’s the embodiment of the Puritan work ethic: industrious, practical and self-reliant, having raised herself up from working-class “townie” to become the most successful Realtor on Boston’s tony North Shore.
But as a longtime alcoholic who refuses to acknowledge that she has a problem, Hildy also is a wholly unreliable narrator.
Weaver makes her tart, witty, well-read and acutely perceptive; her snarky line deliveries and authoritative body language brook no dissent. Hildy is descended from witches, and may be a “Gammy” herself, given an uncanny ability to “read” people while holding their hands.
She also has two adorably cute dogs, who follow her every move.
As this story begins, though, Hildy has just returned from an enforced rehab intervention staged by her daughters, Tess (Rebecca Henderson) and Emily (Molly Brown). Tess is married, with a family; as we initially meet her, Henderson makes the woman seem severe, strict and judgmental … borderline unlikable. (Savvy viewers will understand that this often is inevitable, in children raised by alcoholics.)
As time passes, though, Henderson’s subtle performance reveals the unfairness of that initial reading.
Brown’s Emily, still in college, is rather obtuse: wrapped up in herself, and definitely exuding an aura of entitlement.
Hildy is snappish and humiliated by the embarrassment of having been “outed” so visibly, by her family and close friends. She also doesn’t understand what the fuss is all about; she never met a problem that couldn’t be solved over two glasses of Pinor Noir, and besides … she’s more fun when she’s drinking.
Until she isn’t.
And, indeed, she’s losing her grip. Years of being the sole support of her daughters and ex-husband (David Rasche, as Scott) — who left her after declaring himself gay — have pushed Hildy to the emotional brink.
Her former protégé, Wendy (Kathryn Erbe), has decamped and set up her own rival real estate agency. That betrayal, along with Hildy’s increasingly erratic behavior, have torpedoed her client base to the point that debts are mounting.
As William Butler Yeats so famously wrote, The center cannot hold.
Two elements, thankfully, bring a bright spark to Hildy’s plight. The first is renewed attention from long-ago high school sweetheart Frank Getchell (Kevin Kline), who — obviously, heartbreakingly — has long carried a torch for her. Kline is marvelous in this grizzled role; although Frank’s “official” job as the local garbage contractor would seem to make him déclassé, he doesn’t give a damn about the expectations of his more “respectable” (in their minds) neighbors.
Indeed, he seems proud of his role as the local oddball, and he has a disarming habit of being around when Hildy needs him, selflessly doing all manner of favors, large and small. Kline gives the man a quietly disarming smile, and we want to reach into the screen and shake Hildy: Pay attention to this man!
Town newcomer Rebecca McAllister (Morena Baccarin) is the other bit of joy. Wealthy and reckless — and with an unfaithful husband prone to lengthy absences — Rebecca befriends Hildy out of lonely desperation. They soon spend long evenings together, trading confidences over too much wine; Hildy clings to this new relationship, reveling in her ability to play “worldly big sister.”
But we feel uneasy; the dynamic seems somehow tainted. Baccarin is luminously sensual, her gaze often feral and … well … hungry. Despite her usual perceptive skills, Hildy misses this completely.
This saga’s remaining key player is Peter Newbold (Rob Delaney), the town psychiatrist, whom Hildy babysat when he was a child; he now rents office space above her real estate agency.
This set-up will be recognized by anybody who grew up in a small town, where everybody — accidentally or intentionally — always knew your business. This is what happens when people are too close to each other: It’s a bubbling stew of domestic intrigue, seasoned with the often hurtful mistakes people make, because they blindly believe themselves exceptions to the rules.
But these are sidebar issues (albeit intriguing ones). This story’s core plot is very simple: the self-destructive downward spiral of a hopeless alcoholic, and whether she’ll ever be in a position to redeem herself.
Before something awful happens.
Although unkind comparisons could be made to afternoon TV soap opera antics, this film — and its script — are much sharper and smarter. These people, starting with Hildy, also feel genuine, vulnerable and recognizably flawed. And Weaver is a hoot, most of the time; her line deliveries make us smile, even occasionally laugh (albeit guiltily).
And every time some situation threatens to irrevocably wreck a relationship, Kline’s calm, soothing and wise Frank — with a gaze even more insightful than Hildy’s hand-held readings — exudes the comfort of a warm blanket on a cold night.
The open, uncrowded landscapes of Chester, Nova Scotia — rocky coastline, sandy beaches, natural harbors and untouched marshes — stand in for the Massachusetts location, and production designer Carl Sprague ensures that the historic New England ambiance is present.
Cinematographer Andrei Bowden Schwartz maintains a natural palette, as befits the washed-out colors of the region’s shorelines and weather-beaten houses. That said, his artistic choices often are a function of the world as Hildy sees it. (Unreliable narrator, remember?)
It’s great to see Kline and Weaver together again, given the easy comfort and acting intensity of their previous collaborations in 1993’s Dave and 1997’s The Ice Storm.
Even so, I fear this film won’t find an audience. Publicity has been minimal, folks still aren’t returning to movie theaters in sufficient numbers, and this late September release is akin to the kiss of death.
That’s a shame. There’s much to admire here, for those who enjoy quirky, offbeat character studies.
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