to make up a movie-going audience - I'm certainly stunned by the number of positive comments this wretched film has garnered here. I can't credit it, can't help but be suspicious, for that matter, of back alley payoffs to critics who are touting Annette Bening for an Oscar; the hole in the kitchen ceiling might be more appropriately attributed to her scenery chewing. She's a wonderful actress but this is an unfortunately unbalanced performance, lacking that essential quality film actors must master of catching the cadence of the screenplay and maintaining it for the duration of the disjointed madness that is a film shoot.
I don't really want to blame Miss Bening or most of the other performers (well, Gwyneth Paltrow has no excuse for her muzzy work), however, because this is a horrendous adaptation, a classic case of mistranslation (I am prepared to assume. I haven't read the book and don't think I will after this). The script launches us into the middle/muddle of unaccountable behaviour and extreme emotional angst spewing from mystifying characters who have developed relationships neither with us nor each other. It quickly becomes a grotesquely excessive tsunami-like assault that sullies characters and audience alike and left me like a survivor shaking my head at the detritus left at the end of each repetitive episode. Shock and awe would describe my reaction to frantic, bi-polar mood swings between ranting and oh-so-quiet sensitivity, the latter telegraphed by one of the most irritating, manipulative, droning soundtracks I've heard - that is, when all this isn't being set to ludicrously incongruous toons - period stuff, ya know, but chosen with an astounding disregard for the tone of the scenes.
How this fine cast got mixed up in this I don't know - I can't believe they saw the screenplay before signing. They certainly apply their skills with commitment - I felt so sorry for the wonderful Jill Clayburgh saddled with a cartoon bag lady costume and wig trying vainly to wrench something of significance from sketchy and clichéd dialogue. In contrast, somehow, Alec Baldwin rises above the material to deliver a consistent, nuanced, real performance. Can somebody give this man a lead role of substance, please? And how about Rachel Evan Wood - or Joseph Fiennes? You'd think the industry could make better use of him, and without appearing as hirsute as Elliot Gould in M.A.S.H.
My vote? A standup turd, all right, but no link with heaven.
I don't really want to blame Miss Bening or most of the other performers (well, Gwyneth Paltrow has no excuse for her muzzy work), however, because this is a horrendous adaptation, a classic case of mistranslation (I am prepared to assume. I haven't read the book and don't think I will after this). The script launches us into the middle/muddle of unaccountable behaviour and extreme emotional angst spewing from mystifying characters who have developed relationships neither with us nor each other. It quickly becomes a grotesquely excessive tsunami-like assault that sullies characters and audience alike and left me like a survivor shaking my head at the detritus left at the end of each repetitive episode. Shock and awe would describe my reaction to frantic, bi-polar mood swings between ranting and oh-so-quiet sensitivity, the latter telegraphed by one of the most irritating, manipulative, droning soundtracks I've heard - that is, when all this isn't being set to ludicrously incongruous toons - period stuff, ya know, but chosen with an astounding disregard for the tone of the scenes.
How this fine cast got mixed up in this I don't know - I can't believe they saw the screenplay before signing. They certainly apply their skills with commitment - I felt so sorry for the wonderful Jill Clayburgh saddled with a cartoon bag lady costume and wig trying vainly to wrench something of significance from sketchy and clichéd dialogue. In contrast, somehow, Alec Baldwin rises above the material to deliver a consistent, nuanced, real performance. Can somebody give this man a lead role of substance, please? And how about Rachel Evan Wood - or Joseph Fiennes? You'd think the industry could make better use of him, and without appearing as hirsute as Elliot Gould in M.A.S.H.
My vote? A standup turd, all right, but no link with heaven.