Folks who enjoy quirky dramedies populated by whimsically eccentric characters will love this one.
 |
| Against his better judgment, Steven (Peter Dinklage) — accompanied by his dog, Levi — accepts an invitation to tour the tugboat owned by Katrina (Marisa Tomei). Her casual handling of an axe, however, gives him pause... |
The Brooklyn setting, framed so lovingly by cinematographer Sam Levy, also counts as an additional character. Goodness, but New York has personality.
Celebrated opera composer Steven Lauddem (Peter Dinklage) has been suffering a years-long writer’s block: not a good thing, with a commission due in mere weeks. He doesn’t want to be seen in public, fearing inevitable questions about how his newest work is going; he doesn’t even want to get out of bed in the morning.
His wife — and former therapist — Patricia (Anne Hathaway), hoping to break the cycle, tosses him out of their tony brownstone one day, ordering him to “get lost,” in a metaphorical sense. Take a long walk. Go somewhere different. Seesomething different. Accompanied by their adorable French bulldog, Levi, Steven obligingly lets the pooch determine their path.
Patricia, it turns out, badly needs help herself. What initially seems a reasonable preference for cleanliness is revealed as a mania far beyond obsessive/compulsive, with a heaping helping of lapsed Catholic guilt thrown in. Surfaces must be scrubbed thoroughly, before and after use. Sexual intimacy is rigorously limited to a scheduled once per week. (One pales at the thought of how Steven accommodates this.)
Although it seems inconceivable that Patricia would tolerate a dog in their home — she handles Levi’s leash with paper towels — losing him would be a shame; he has just as much presence and individuality as his two-legged co-stars. Indeed, at times Miller draws unexpectedly thoughtful gazes from him.
Meanwhile…
We also meet teenagers Julian (Evan Ellison) and Tereza (Harlow Jane), swooningly in love, and newly consummating their relationship; Polaroid snapshots are taken, to commemorate the moment. (Do today’s teens and twentysomethings still do this? If so, it’s rather sweet.)
Julian is Patricia’s son by a previous marriage; Stephen has done his best to be a good stepfather. Tereza was an “accident” that derailed the life of her then teenaged mother, Magdalena Joanna Kulig); she subsequently married Trey (Brian d’Arcy James), who obligingly adopted the girl.
The nerdy Trey is excitably passionate about everything he does, from his job as a court stenographer to his avocation as a Civil War reenactor. James makes him bossy and authoritarian: an attitude tolerated by Magdalena, but which frequently prompts rolled eyes from Tereza.
Magdalena works as a housekeeper and cleaner, and — small world! — Patricia is one of her clients. Julian and Tereza thus far have kept their relationship secret; the inevitable reveal will raise questions of race, socio-economic status and age. (He’s 18; she’s 16.)
But back to Steven…
His morning walk detours briefly into a bar, and a chance encounter with Katrina (Marisa Tomei), a traveling tugboat captain temporarily moored at the Brooklyn docks. She’s candid to a fault, confessing an addiction to romance and a tendency toward stalking. She admits having been arrested once before, forced into rehab, and ultimately released. (Her probation: No romantic movies for an entire year.)
Steven is bemused, and — having nothing better to do — accepts an invitation to tour her tugboat, which doubles as her home.
The vessel is functional, slightly mysterious and totally charming, painted in glowing jewel tones; Levy and production designer Kim Jennings gives the interior rooms — cramped, but cozy — a sensual, unexpected atmosphere, as if anything could happen.
Somewhat despite himself, Steven allows “anything” to go down.
And — poof! — epiphany. He suddenly has the structure and music — every note! — for his long-stalled next production.
He has found his muse.
Although he subsequently refuses to acknowledge her. With predictable results.
All of this might seem messy, contrived and even silly in lesser hands. But the note-perfect subtlety by Dinklage, Tomei and Hathaway makes it work. His initial gloominess is palpable, his flickering, downcast gaze, the twitching corners of his mouth, all utterly heartbreaking. We grieve for him (and, once we get to know Patricia better, grieve even more). I can’t imagine anybody doing morose and woebegone better than Dinklage.
Hathaway is just as superbly understated, albeit in a different direction. Patricia is inherently kind, but that seems to require effort: solicitous but superficial, her eyes a bit too bright, her smile a bit too wide. (I’m reminded of her impossibly broad — and creepy — grin, in 2020’s The Witches.) She moves cautiously, nervously, as if worried that one wrong step would shatter her like glass.
Patricia also must contend with a patient (Chris Gethard) who repeatedly exhibits an unacceptably blunt level of sexual interest in her. (“Transference,” she sniffs, trying to shut him down. Doesn’t work.)
Tomei’s Katrina, in contrast, is vibrant, cheerfully uninhibited and ferociously independent … until her romantic overdrive kicks in. Then she becomes earthy, sensual and relatable. But at the same time, Tomei makes her vulnerable and lonely: capable of being hurt (an occupational hazard for people who bare their feelings so freely).
Kulig’s Magdalena is reserved, quiet and wary: a woman who never quite surmounted the alienation she feels in the United States, after leaving her native Poland. That aside, she deeply loves her daughter, and — in the wake of second-act revelations — worries about the girl’s future.
Ellison and Jane are totally adorable as Julian and Tereza: the epitome of young love. Ellison radiates the necessary wisdom of a young man who recognizes that he’s his mother’s best friend, and is careful not to abuse that bond. Jane’s Tereza is passionate and impatient, resistant to warnings to be cautious and “smart.”
As Miller’s story slides into its third act, one of these characters will emerge as a hero, another as an unexpected villain, and another will have a crisis.
All of this messy angst is deftly complemented by a lyrical, piano-based score by Grammy Award-winning classical composer Bryce Dessner, who also was tasked with creating this story’s two original operas. (Soprano Olivia Dei Cicchi, mezzo-sopranos Isabel Leonard and Alicia Hall Moran, tenors Emmett O’Hanlon and David Morgans Sanchez, and bass-baritone Greer Grimsley bring them to life.)
One must have a certain mindset, to roll with this somewhat heightened slice of magical realism. It’s initially tempting to dismiss Steven as a self-centered jerk, until the nuances of Dinklage’s performance reveal more.
But viewers willing to fall under the captivating spell that Miller weaves so well, are guaranteed to have a good time.
No comments:
Post a Comment