This gentle, endearingly delicate character drama draws its heart from the Japanese art of kintsugi, wherein — when done properly — an object becomes more beautiful because it’s broken, and then lovingly repaired.
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| Benita (Julia Mayorga, left) happily joins Diana (Katie Holmes) for an impulsive afternoon away from work. |
The reason, as we gradually learn via fleeting flashbacks: She was raped in a trendy bar restroom, by a “nice guy” who, after flirty banter and several drinks, suddenly turned into a monster. “Tell anybody,” he breathes into her ear, following the assault, “and I’ll find you.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he whispers “I’m sorry” … as if that somehow makes up for the attack.
This isn’t actress Katie Holmes’ first time in the director’s chair, but it’s her best thus far … probably because she didn’t give the central role to herself. She also co-wrote the script with Phaedon A. Papadopoulos, based on Kathleen Tessaro’s 2016 novel of the same title. But it’s an adaptation in name and character dynamic only; very little remains of the book.
(That isn’t any sort of problem here, but one does wonder how Tessaro feels.)
Benita, having abandoned any thought of resuming college, returns to the tiny Queens apartment that she shares with her single mother, Aymee (Sandra Santiago), a Latin American immigrant who works hard to make ends meet. Benita hasn’t told her mother about what happened: a point we grasp not through any direct dialogue, but via inference.
We eventually realize that going off to college in the first place likely was a point of friction between mother and daughter; Benita recognizes that admitting her recent crisis would merely validate her mother’s initial fears.
Much of this story unfolds in precisely that manner, with Holmes and Papadopoulos trusting us to keep up, and fill in such gaps; that’s the hallmark of a sharp script. Credit also goes to Mayorga, who handles such scenes persuasively; her richly nuanced expressions and body language often tell us more than dialogue would.
Benita is at wit’s end: still fragile, haunted by the memory of her attack — the film reveals just enough, via those flashbacks, and avoids exploitation — and terrified by the burden of student loans coming due. Aymee is patient and encouraging, but chooses not to push. (I’m not sure that feels right, but it’s a minor quibble.)
Potential neighborhood jobs are strictly menial fast food and clerking positions, all of which are filled before Benita has a chance to apply. Finally, thanks to some encouragement from her friend Angie (Olivia Gilliatt), Benita takes an audacious gamble: She dresses to the nines, heads into Manhattan, and investigates the “help wanted” notices on the message board of a tony establishment.
That brings her to Kessler & Winshaw, a high-end antique and objets d’art emporium run by Peter Kessler (Alan Cumming). Benita fabricates past experiences, but does so quite charmingly; she is a well-read (former) college student, with an established interest in art and museums, so that isn’t much of a stretch. Kessler admires her personable charm, and hires her on the spot.
If he senses her actual down-market origins, he chooses to overlook them. More to the point, Peter likes her. Benita quickly adapts to the skill of building a back-story for each piece in the shop, in order to make somebody fall in love with it..
This first act is accompanied by additional flashbacks, this time to Benita’s stay at the psychiatric facility, where she befriended a vulnerable young woman named Diana (Holmes). Even in this somber atmosphere, Diana is quirky, mischievous and fun … but she’s also broken.
Diana’s eyes are a bit too bright, her frequent laughter a bit too forced, her posture hunched and wary; she begins sentences that trail off, as her thoughts charge in a different direction. Holmes’ smile often wavers, from one word to the next. The woman always seems on the verge of full-throttled hysteria, but somehow keeps it in check. (Mostly.)
Benita regrets having left her behind.
Her training continues under Peter’s tutelage; she learns quickly, adapting to his insistence that she treat clients — they’re always clients, never mere “shoppers” — with “Karsavia grace,” referencing the Russian prima ballerina.
One day, Peter is all a-flutter, anticipating the arrival of new high-society clients. “If they shop with us,” he confides to Benita, “everybody will shop with us.”
Lo and behold — to Benita’s surprise and delight — the clients in question turn out to be Diana and her brother, James (David Alexander) … the latter clearly tagging along to keep a careful eye on her.
At this point, Benita’s bold plunge into Manhattan’s aristocratic scene escalates even further, as Diana happily invites this reunited friend into her realm.
To what end, we can only wonder … and worry. A lot.
The enthusiasm with which Benita throws herself into this rarefied realm notwithstanding, she never forgets her origins, or the complex immigration issues her mother is attempting to navigate. Holmes and Papadopoulos don’t hammer this socio-economic divide, but it’s always present.
There’s no escaping this story’s Cinderella-esque elements — or Pygmalion, if that’s your source of choice — but Mayorga and Holmes make it go down smoothly. They share a solid, warm dynamic, albeit one that includes an unsettling degree of uncertainty. Diana yearns for the Benita’s poise and self-assurance — and if she only knew, the latter clearly thinks — while Benita, despite enjoying this whirlwind of fun, soon adopts James’ wary gaze.
Benita’s interactions with Peter, at Kessler & Winshaw, are calmer and more grounded. Cumming is a fastidious delight, his impeccable speech and manner perfectly suited to the shop environment; one suspects Peter could sell anything to anybody. He shares the business with frequently absent partner Ben Winshaw (Derek Luke), who travels the world in search of always-just-right items that he ships back to the shop.
Ben pops up in this story’s third act, and Luke makes an equally strong impression; he’s shrewder and savvier than Peter, and probably does recognize Benita’s down-market origins … but, trusting his partner, chooses not to say anything.
Santiago is wonderful, as Benita’s mother. Aymee is perhaps too patient and saintly, but — again — Santiago makes it work.
James isn’t fleshed out very well; he’s obviously polite, respectful and devoted to his sister, but Alexander isn’t given much to work with. He and Mayorga grant James and Benita a spark of attraction; we wonder where that might lead.
I love the sharply perceptive bits of dialogue that periodically pop up, as this story proceeds. When Benita questions Diana’s release, the latter wryly explains that “I convinced them I was no longer dependent on the habit of escaping my difficulties.”
Later, after Ben somewhat sharply chastises Benita for “shading” her description of a painting — “Art needs to be honest,” he insists, as she meekly apologizes and withdraws — Peter gently reprimands his partner, pointing out that “Some people need to be seen, before they can start to hear.”
Michael Fitzgerald’s production design is sublime, from the richly appointed atmosphere of Kessler & Winshaw, to the Spartan but nonetheless comfortable apartment that Benita shares with her mother. The fact that Benita’s bedroom is at sidewalk level is rather charming, since — if the window is open — it allows Angie, passing by, to glance inside for a chat. (That said, the obvious safety hazard seems a bit questionable.)
Costume designer Brie Welch has a marvelous time clothing Mayorga in all manner of perfectly appointed outfits, but one does wonder where Benita gets the money for such an expansive wardrobe. (I doubt Peter pays her that well.)
It certainly isn’t hard to anticipate where this story is heading, allowing for a few questions along the way. But familiarity doesn’t always breed contempt; as often is true of a well-crafted script brought to life by engaging actors, the journey is far more important than the destination.
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