After eating Christmas, drinking in the new-year and grazing like dystopian junk food cattle through the intervening period, last night I waddled to my car and drove to the cinema feeling like the filling in a dripping sandwich (one for the oldies). Upon arrival tickets were purchased and I eased my festively enlarged derriere into the allocated slot and spent two hours watching a bit more of two of Hollywood most perfect bodies than I had expected to see. Coveting of thy neighbours’ pop-corn/hot dog/nacho snack buffet spectacular ceased instantly and first looking at Jack Gyllenhaal’s body and then my own, slumped in the cinema’s half-light with belly protruding and jiggling lightly as I chuckled (yes chuckled like a jolly fat man) I realised three things: One, I hadn’t being paying attention to the film. Two, when I was thirteen I could have stayed up all night watching erotic thrillers on channel five and I still wouldn’t have seen this much action and Three, I like crisps (and my girlfriend) too much to ever seriously aspire to sleeping with a Hollywood actress.
(Anyway, the film was actually quite good so I don’t want to fall into the trap of focusing on the nudity or ‘chemistry’ as broadsheet newspapers are referring to it. I have fallen into the trap haven’t I…Yep, I’m definitely in the trap. It’s cold and dark and sticky down here and teeming with perverts and voyeurs. I am now going to try and climb out with words. The first of these words being…)
Bums and Boobs aside this film was a romantic comedy which was both romantic and…wait for it…funny. For a genre that is so prolific in output I am struggling to think of many in the last two years that would pass this seemingly simple test. The humour in the film is sometimes childish and often slap stick but it doesn’t rely on lazy gender stereotyping or butt clenching bawdiness and rarely detracts from the narrative. The laughs give you welcome lifts from what is quite a difficult subject matter somewhere near the centre of the film.
The film follows the relationship of a Lothario (drugs) salesman and his latest crumpet as they first fall into lust, then love and then well let’s not give it all away. Matters are complicated by the fact that Mr Gyllenhaal is heartless and materialistic and Ms Hathaway has early onset Parkinson’s which means that this film could never be described as a Rom-Com Romp (thankfully).
My main criticism of the film is one that may prove to be unfair so go see the film and make up your own mind. I would argue that Anne Hathaway’s character is still mainly defined by her disability. I think that this was not supposed to be the case as she, to the writer’s credit visibly works two jobs and is an active artist but even when her illness wasn’t centre stage it still appeared to be the main influencing factor in her actions. In support of the writers there is a turning point in the film where she meets others suffering from Parkinson’s and is inspired not to be distinguished by her illness alone but in the same scene Mr Gyllenhaal’s character comes to define her solely by her disability and resolves to have her ‘fixed.’ I realise that I am tying myself in massive knots with this and what was intended to be criticism has now turned into a commentary but I hope the semblance of a discussion point is salvageable from the car crash above.
This film was in equal measures funny, tragic and a great showcase of the actors talents. Now, can I give you a promotional pen to go with this review?
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