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Divide And Clunker
by Mara Math
I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry
- Directed by Dennis Dugan
Produced by Universal Pictures
Rated PG-13, 110 min., in English
Opens July 20th
Even if I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry Even if Chuck and Larry were a fabulous film in terms of pro‐gay content, queers would have little reason to celebrate — unless you're happy to define "queer" as excluding anyone of color. Although Chuck and Larry is alleged by such writers as the Village Voice's Nathan Lee, himself gay, to represent the ultimate mainstreaming of gayness — he claims "It does with crass what Brokeback [Mountain] did with class" — the film's construction of "mainstream" is narrow and harrowingly racist.
And progressive or pro‐gay it ain't. Chuck and Larry is another of those have‐your‐cake‐and‐eat‐it‐too films in the fine tradition of Shallow Hal. The latter gave us 110 minutes of juvenile fat‐bashing before concluding with three minutes of "That's not nice! And you shouldn't judge a book by its cover!" Chuck and Larry treats us to every hoary gay male stereotype from the 1952 edition of Risqué Jokes before asking, can't we all just be tolerant? The vast array of clichés includes an extended don't‐bend‐over‐to‐pick‐up‐the‐soap scene, a punch in the face as the reasonable response to a potential peck on the lips from one straight man to another, and a muscled leather hunk who bursts into tears when someone calls him faggot. (No lesbian truckers, but only because there are no lesbians.) All of these are supposedly offset by declarations like the one bellowed by Dan Ayckroyd's Captain Tucker: "You have the right to put whatever you want up your ass!"
Uh… yay?
Once upon a time, perhaps, the plot had some promise: Two straight and homophobic male firefighters, best friends — one an abrasive man‐child/super‐stud, the other a still‐grieving widower — must pretend to be gay domestic partners, and marry in Canada, to protect medical benefits for the widower's kids. But this is an Adam Sandler movie, so any prospects for subversive farce are sacrificed in favor of fart jokes. The stud (Sandler — as if!) falls for a lovely female lawyer (Jessica Biel, perfectly acceptable as female furniture for the film) and must grow up to win her; the widower (Kevin James) learns to stop living in the past; and before it's all wrapped up with a bow, the two men and their cohorts experience a variety of That's Not Nice epiphanies and spout some anti‐homophobia PSAs.
Inclusivity as interpreted by Chuck and Larry may mean waving a rainbow flag, or at least waving at one, but it's an odd kind of rainbow: all the stripes are white.
Chuck and Larry boasts some of the most galling anti‐Asian stereotyping since Mickey Rooney donned false buck teeth as an Asian landlord in Breakfast at Tiffany's. In fact, Rob Schneider's chalk‐on‐a‐blackboard riff as a Japanese‐Canadian minister seems to have been recycled directly from the 1961 film.
Sandler, Ayckroyd, Schneider, and an uncredited David Spade are all "Saturday Night Live" alumni, and Chuck and Larry is infused throughout with that cocky SNL assumption, "But we're too hip to be racist." It's just soooo hysterical that the Japanese minister can't pronounce the letter "r," doncha know, that the alleged joke is repeated a dozen or twenty times. A barely‐clad bevy of Asian bimbettes gets three seconds to titter, "Tee‐hee‐hee, you so naughty, Mr. Larry!" or some such, before disappearing. And except for brief glimpses of two extras, these are the only Asians in the film.
In fact, these Asian caricatures, together with Nicholas Turturro (World Trade Center) as a Latino firefighter and Ving Rhames as the one black character, are the only people of color in the entire film — it's Woody Allen's whitewashed New York all over again. Rhames' character, Duncan, fares no better than the Asians (not even getting a first name): His "dangerousness" is exaggerated a la the Scary Black Man stereotype, before Chuck and Larry's masquerade motivates him to come out himself. The fiftyish Duncan could not possibly, of course, have found himself inspired by Marlon Riggs, James Baldwin or Audre Lorde, or even E. Lynn Harris.
Even script doctoring by director/writer Alexander Payne and his Sideways cohort Jim Taylor fails to drag the mess concocted by Barry Fenaro ("Golden Girls") up to a remotely passable level. Cameos by openly‐gay performers Richard Chamberlain, Nick Swardson, and Lance Bass do little to make up for the deficits in dialogue, structure, and, well, funniness. More than a few good opportunities are missed, especially in the bizarro hearing where the two men must convince everyone they are indeed gay, or else face felony fraud charges: Larry playing lovestruck husband takes no corny advantage of Chuck's last name being Valentine, nor is his extensive tutoring of Chuck's flaming young son for stage musicals introduced as evidence for the defense, and so on.
How George W‐dumb is this movie? At said bizarro hearing, after testifying that they have been on the job together since 1987, Chuck and Larry are separated to test how closely their stories match. And they are asked what their worst day on the job was. This is on par with "Inside Edition"'s Victoria Recagno asking Jennifer Aniston what her worst breakup was, but wait, the answer is even stupider, especially given Turturro's inclusion in the film. The script has Chuck and Larry each reply that their worst day was responding to a call where they couldn't resuscitate a drowned toddler. Tragic and horrible, yes. But worst? For New York City firefighters who, as established, were on the job together six years ago September? Upchuck and Bleary suggests itself as an alternate title.
Big Steps and Baby Steps
by Mara Math
Zoe Cassavetes talks about Broken English (2007)
- Directed by Zoe Cassavetes
Produced by HDNET Films
Rated PG-13, 93 min., in English and French
Growing up with not one but two parents who are celebrated film icons—director John Cassavetes and actor Gena Rowlands—as well as two sibs who direct (Alexandra, Z Channel and Nick, Alpha Dog), plus a best friend by the name of Sophia Coppola (Lost in Translation)—it is perhaps inevitable that Zoe Cassavetes would feel the lure of directing as well. Broken English, her first feature film, opens today, July 6, in theaters nationwide. We interviewed Cassavetes this May, when she was in town for the screening of Broken English at the 2007 San Francisco International Film Festival. The interview follows this review.
Broken English centers on Nora (Parker Posey), a single thirty‐something growing increasingly depressed about her deepening isolation. Although she's clearly a master at coordinating perks and events for the guests at a New York bijou luxury hotel, the position doesn't seem a match for her sardonic intelligence. There's little solace in family, either; her father died some years ago (it's hinted that this was the start of Nora's depression), and her Lady‐Who‐Lunches mother can't resist sighing loudly over the good catches her daughter has failed to marry. Nora's best friend, despite being unhappy in her own marriage, is nudging Nora to join the club, and Nora more and more finds herself the lone solo in a sea of young marrieds. And as a dose of salt in the wound, when Nora mistakes her one‐night stand with a heartthrob actor (Justin Theroux) for the start of something more, she immediately suffers semi‐public humiliation. No wonder Miss Wilder Drinks a Bit (washing down a variety of unspecified pills as well). And then into the party she has only begrudgingly attended wanders a handsome younger Frenchman…
While the film might unkindly be called How Parker Got Her Groove Back Before Sunset, it does differ a bit from those that might unkindly be called chick‐lit‐on‐film—not necessarily the same as a chick‐flick. A chick‐lit‐on‐film is always all about Finding the One. Anchored by another excellent Parker Posey performance, Broken English shows us the edge of some true despair, rather than yet another whiny rendition of the more‐likely‐to‐be‐killed‐by‐a‐terrorist theme. The bad‐date sequences, a chick‐lit staple, veer closer to cliché, but are well‐executed enough to be both amusing and recognizably authentic. The film is also lightly peppered with occasional wit: With a self‐assured, good‐looking man perched in her living room offering typical come‐ons, Nora mutters, "I'm so glad I don't have an acoustic guitar!" (Every woman in the audience howled with recognition; although she ducked the question, post‐screening Q&A indicated that this had been a Posey adlib, which may be why it's the sharpest line in the film.)
When after several mopey months Nora finally decides to follow up on her Frenchman (Melvil Poupaud), who is now back in Paris, a bizarre and confusing subplot meant to add a screwball element nearly sinks the film instead. It's hard enough to swallow the notion that upper‐class Nora and her wealthy best friend (Drea de Matteo of "The Sopranos," wasted in what seems to be a deliberately bland role) couldn't possibly afford tickets from to Paris except as couriers, but the mysterious package they are delivering for their fare is only a McGuffin—and barely that. Such stuff is the straw from which previews spin gold, but it's actually a disservice to the film for audiences to be bamboozled into expecting only light and loopy fun.
Having lost Julien's number, Nora wanders the glummest, least charming Paris ever seen on screen, more isolated now than ever as here she literally rather than figuratively does not speak the language. She doesn't really loosen up until, just before she is due to return to the States, a chance‐met substitute father‐figure gives her permission—nearly orders her—to come into her own. And, amazingly, she does. While somewhat unsatisfying dramatically, this is nevertheless a welcome turn, not only because we wish Nora well, but because we are released at last from the repetitive dull trudge that has comprised Nora's time in Paris. An ambiguous ending (strongly reminiscent of Before Sunset) promises that Nora is going to be OK, with or without Julien. Because the film resides so much more in chick‐lit than art house territory, however, the intended ambiguity comes off more as coyness, and "with" is the conclusion it is impossible not to draw.
The Interview
Cinemedusa: Who are your favorite directors?
Zoe Cassavetes: Scorcese, Nicole Holofcenter, Eric Rohmer, Antonioni—there are so many I love, it's hard to say that just one or two would be a favorite. After making a movie, it's so interesting to grasp the total effort they put into making it!
CM: I wondered about favorite directors because Parker Posey's character is named Nora Wilder. Was that after Billy Wilder? Or for the character trait, the strain of wildness in Nora?
Cassavetes: Not consciously for Billy Wilder, although of course I love him, too. Maybe unconsciously. I didn't notice. It's the first time I've been asked that.
CM: Speaking of names, the title of your film, Broken English, dovetails nicely with the title of Sophia Coppola's first film, Lost in Translation—did you two plan that?
Cassavetes: Oh, no. I wrote my film around the same time she was writing hers. Titling is my least favorite part of the process, when you think how the critics will dissect you.
CM: What have you learned about directing from Sophia, or how would you say she has influenced you?
Cassavetes: I love to watch her work. I guess I'd say I learned about being more calm—she's very softspoken.
CM: Your short film on the festival circuit was called "Men Make Women Crazy Theory." Is that short related to Broken English?
Cassavetes: It's in the same strain—it's about a girl who meets a guy who's completely inappropriate and she talks herself into it, and when she damages the relationship and now she can't go back.
CM: Broken English is unusual in showing some real despair on the part of the protagonist about her loneliness. You said at the Q&A [following the SFIFF screening] that you always knew that you didn't want to make a film with a happy, neatly tied‐up ending. Did you consider staying with a darker tone for the whole film?
Cassavetes: There's no lighter tone in the short, but in this I always wanted her [Nora] to move on. You couldn't stand it if it was all negative, it would be too much! [laughs]
CM: What do you regret having to leave on the cutting room floor?
Cassavetes: Usually it's funny stuff, because it gets repetitive—there was stuff with the psychic scene, for instance, that was a lot longer originally.
CM: Nora drinks a lot, and it's obvious that she's self‐medicating to drown out her loneliness, but she's smart and funny and attractive—why is she so lonely?
Cassavetes: It just happens. Friends get married and you get left out. . . I know so many great women who have been in relationships that don't work. You have a full social life and it's suddenly "What am I missing here?" and they get so preoccupied that it's never going to happen.
CM: Nora's mother says, "It's so confusing for young women today," referring to what she sees as an intimidating array of possibilities for young women in terms of relationships, work, and lifestyle. Do you consider that one of the core monologues of the film?
Cassavetes: Yes, definitely. It used to be so cut and dried, what a woman's role was, in the mother's day. I liked the idea that her mother loves her very much but has a lack of understanding about what it's like to be her.
CM: Nora's mother is played by your own mother, Gena Rowlands. What advice did she give you before and during the making of the film?
Cassavetes: She had great ideas about her part and making things more clear—like, "My character might not say this"—and about the emotional subtext. People always ask about my dad's influence, but he died when I was 18, so I got life advice from him but not any film advice.
CM: Nora's costuming is very girlish, more frou‐frou than I think we've ever seen Parker before. Was that your idea or [costumer] Stacy Battat's?
Cassavetes: Stacy's my stylist, too, as well as the costumer, and we came up with most of it together. It was her idea to have Nora frilly—"but untucked," that's how she put it, that there should always be something stylistically a little bit off. And Parker is a genius—if you notice, it's very subtle, but she never has her shoes fully on in the whole movie, they're always half off. . . .
CM: I loved the cloud necklace, the idea that Nora literally carries around her own little cloud to rain on her—where did that come from?
Cassavetes: The necklace was Parker's idea, she was inspired by a necklace that I bought. It's just perfect, isn't it?
CM: Why doesn't Julien call Nora from Paris? It seems out of character with his really dogged pursuit of Nora, and with the sort of unconditional love he seems to be offering.
Cassavetes: It's important to him for her to make that move. When she won't come with him [to Paris], he's taking it as a sign that she's not ready. We shot some stuff with him leaving a message, but that would have turned it into a whole other kind of movie.
CM: When Nora gets to Paris and discovers she's lost Julien's number, why doesn't she put her great organizational skills to use to find him? She's an event coordinator for a major hotel, why doesn't she call the French equivalent of IATSE [the union of professional film technicians], or post on the Parisian Craigslist?
Cassavetes: When you've taken a big step, you're not necessarily ready to take the next one. It's a big step for her to go to Paris at all. That's all she can do right then. It's a big step and a baby step at the same time.
CM: So it's almost a relief to Nora to be disappointed?
Cassavetes: Yes, absolutely.
CM: How would you say that class affect's Nora's situation?
Cassavetes: I think she worries sometimes that she should be dating someone more from her class, someone with a good job, someone her mother would approve of, even though she also knows she doesn't really want to do that.
CM: I was thinking more of how she's free to quit her job to go to Paris without worrying about losing her apartment.
Cassavetes: She knows that she has her fallback, she knows that her mother wouldn't let her end up out on the street.
CM: If you found yourself single today, what steps would you take to avoid ending up in Nora's situation?
Cassavetes: It was so long ago, I wouldn't know even know how to meet someone. I wouldn't know where to begin! [laughs]
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Posted July 23rd, 2007
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