Review of Mr. Jones

With a burst of pop-rock music and Richard Gere peddling happily away on his bicycle down city streets, "Mr. Jones" deceptively begins as an upbeat character study (in fact, "Flashdance...What a Feelin'" would not be out of place here). Too bad then it's just a sunny preamble to the meat and potatoes of the story: a bipolar depressive acts recklessly until he is finally institutionalized. There's a lady psychiatrist who is drawn to him (she's emotionally vulnerable due to a recent break-up), a sassy bank teller who is introduced for no other purpose than to give Richard a pretty date, a trip to a piano store where Gere tickles the ivories...but what is "Mr. Jones" about, at its core? Not even director Mike Figgis appears to know, following manic Gere randomly around town and then to a friend's house for dinner (where all the polite, happy children bow their heads in thankfulness). This is not an exercise in catharsis; Figgis wants to earn points with us through little acts of humility and false emotion--not hard-hitting realism. He doesn't have anything to gain with this picture, not even dramatically once Gere hits the wall and realizes he needs medical help. No one speaks of the financial obligations the central character is under by getting so much hands-on treatment and medication, while father-of-seven Delroy Lindo thinks nothing of slipping Gere some friendly cash (with all those hungry kids at home, one might think Gere should at least refuse the money on principle and not out of pride). Gere (also one of the producers) is up to the challenge of portraying a manic-depressive with euphoric highs and suicidal lows, but the movie tips its hand early on that wild, spontaneous behavior is healthy for the soul. It helps get you jobs, it helps make you friends! It's the same thinking which made "A Thousand Clowns" into an unbearable hit. ** from ****