A Single Man review

My review of A Single Man is online at WestEnder.com

A SINGLE MAN
Starring Colin Firth, Julianne Moore
Directed by Tom Ford

Fashion designer Tom Ford’s directorial debut, A Single Man, is a study in contrasts: lusciously arty and achingly overwrought; remarkably assured, but lacking confidence; and heart-wrenchingly real, yet thinly veiled in artifice.

It’s the early 1960s, and George (Colin Firth in the defining role of his career) is a buttoned-up, closeted, gay professor immersed in a quagmire of depression and mourning almost a year after the sudden death of his partner, Jim (Matthew Goode). Having decided to kill himself, he sets about his last day on earth with a renewed yet resigned purpose. He packs his gun, goes to work, cleans out his desk, does the banking, and neatly lays out his burial clothes.

Confident in his decision, George allows himself a few small flirtations and last moments of human connection. He attends a bittersweet dinner party with his best friend Charlotte (a brave and unsparing Julianne Moore), who’s always carried a torch for him, he shares a cigarette in a parking lot with a handsome hustler (model Jon Kortajarena), and flirts with a baby-faced student (Nicholas Hoult, losing the fight against his British accent) who follows him home.

Ford’s vision for his creation is flawless, and his trust in his actors is handsomely rewarded with powerful performances. His belief in himself as a director, however, seems shaky. Ford’s major stumble is his continued insistence on needlessly manipulating the audience’s emotions. The majority of A Single Man is shot in flat colours, but for extended flashbacks or stretches where George is happy, Ford switches to saturated images, often accompanied by swelling strings. In the school of show-don’t-tell, this device has all the subtlety of an instruction manual.

It’s a shame because if the effects were used sparingly, A Single Man would be so much more than a very pretty face. ★★★—Andrea Warner

Then She Found Me

My review of Then She Found Me appears in this week's Fast Forward Weekly

Then She Found Me? Kind of wish she hadn’t

Helen Hunt’s directorial debut enters movie-of-the-week territory
Published May 8, 2008 by Andrea Warner in Film Reviews

Then She Found Me, Helen Hunt’s feature directorial debut, attempts to tackle such grandiose themes as love and loss, along with the three big Fs — fidelity, family and fertility. The result is something like an overgrown garden, with Hunt mistakenly planting the tangled roots in the estrogen-drenched movie-of-the-week genre.

Hunt stars as April, a kindergarten teacher in her late 30s. Within the first five minutes of the film, April’s entire world crumbles. In rapid-fire succession, her childish husband (Matthew Broderick) leaves her, her adoptive mother dies and her biological mother (Bette Midler) arrives on the scene. Twenty minutes later, she’s embarking on a meet-cute romance with the single father of one of her students (Colin Firth) and then finds out she’s pregnant with her ex-husband’s child. An entire year’s worth of soap opera-styled calamities and plot twists play out in the remaining 80 minutes.

There’s no lack of sincerity on the actors’ parts. Hunt’s April, at her lowest points, is realistically flawed and has the visage to complement her inner struggles — painfully thin, long frown lines, and not a trace of makeup. The actress’s choice to ditch vanity throughout most of the film is brave in today’s Hollywood. Midler is charmingly sweet and brash, and appears to relish the opportunity to dig into the emotional confrontations. She and Hunt have a nice chemistry and are believable as a reunited mother and daughter. Broderick fares less well in the thankless role of the man-child who doesn’t know how to grow up, particularly when compared to Firth’s romantic, sardonic and occasionally angry hero. Firth truly shines as a man trying his best to let his guard down and fall in love. He also lays claim to the best lines.

Still, even the stellar cast can’t get past the convoluted story. Based on a book by Elinor Lipman, the script apparently deviates heavily from the original text. This would be fine if a defter hand had cut the fat and made a leaner, more resonant film. While Hunt shows promise as a director, she seems unable to recognize her film’s flaws — it keeps insisting that it’s about real people and real situations, and yet it moves further into ridiculousness with each new revelation. April’s troubles and triumphs come fast and furious, but have no time to hit home.

Hunt spent 10 years getting Then She Found Me off the ground. Eleven might have been the magic number.