Three stars. Rating: PG-13, for dramatic intensity and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang
Good artists love to stretch, and
should be encouraged to do so; nothing is worse than getting stuck in a rut.
 |
| With Frank (Josh Brolin, right) keeping a wary eye on her, Adele (Kate Winslet) quietly pays for her purchases, afraid that any effort to raise a fuss about this menacing stranger might endanger her son, Henry (Gattlin Griffith). |
Still, it’s puzzling that Jason
Reitman — a director/scripter best known for deliciously snarky dialogue and
the piquant social commentary of Juno
and Up in the Air — would settle for
the soggy melodrama of Labor Day. At
best, Joyce Maynard’s source novel is one step up from a Nicholas Sparks weeper,
and Reitman’s approach slides right into the sloppy sentimentality of a
big-screen Harlequin romance, with an endless parade of stricken expressions
and long-suffering sighs.
Honestly, this film has so many
pregnant pauses, they should have delivered twins or triplets. Strip out the
long wordless takes on young Gattlin Griffith alone, and Labor Day would be half an hour shorter.
Okay, that’s unduly harsh and
somewhat unfair. When the anguished gazes come from Kate Winslet, they contain
undeniable dramatic heft; her every glance and gesture convey a wealth of
emotional data. To his credit, co-star Josh Brolin also delivers a persuasive
performance, and Griffith — his protracted silences notwithstanding — capably
holds up his end of the equation.
Somehow, though, the dramatic
whole is less than the sum of these thespic parts. I simply couldn’t get beyond
the story’s contrivance and constricted timeline: shortcomings that may have
been less conspicuous during the leisurely reading of a 288-page novel, but
which confront us aggressively during a two-hour movie.
The story is a memoir shared via
adult hindsight by Tobey Maguire, whose narrative voice always is a treat; he
delivers just the right blend of wistful nostalgia and reflective insight. He
tells us of a most unusual event that took place when he was 13, amidst a
particularly sweltering New England summer weekend in 1987.
Young Henry (Griffith) is the
sole companion to his mother, Adele (Winslet), who has become reclusive
following the quiet tragedy that led up to an unhappy divorce. Henry is her
lifeline; to the degree allowed by his youth, he conducts modest financial
transactions and handles small shopping chores. But he’s still a boy; larger
responsibilities elude him, and their house is sliding slowly into disrepair.
Neighbors, although observant and
well-intentioned, respect Adele’s desire for isolation.
