Director Lisa Cholodenko, who gave us the marvelous "Laurel Canyon", assembles a killer cast (including national treasures Julianne Moore and Annette Bening, along with Mark Ruffalo and terrific young actor Mia Wasikowska) and addresses a promising premise (kids of lesbian moms meet their sperm donor dad). What could possibly go wrong? Shockingly, in this case, just about everything.
This is not the fault of the actors. Moore and Bening are clearly committed to creating complex, sympathetic portraits of the kids' parents, Jules and Nic. Ruffalo attempts to breathe life into his role as the hapless sperm donor. Wasikowsa tries to convey the maturation of a young person about to strike out on her own.
The problem - and it is a serious one - is that the script gives the actors nothing to work with. Cholodenko, who co-wrote the screenplay, can't make up her mind whether she's directing a slice-of-life family drama, a satiric portrait of stereotypical characters, or a sex farce. She succeeds only in creating a confusing mess that works as none of the above.
Things go badly early, when Jules and Nic have a cringe-inducing sex scene featuring (male) gay porn. From there, the two constantly "process" their feelings. But it's unclear whether Cholodenko intends for this to be satiric or realistic; I don't think the actors have a clue. Things get worse when Jules, for petty reasons, humiliates and then fires a Latino gardener. If the purpose were to showcase some inner complexity of her character, that would be one thing. But, incredibly, the scene is played for laughs, as if the audience should find Jules' cruel behavior funny.
Since Cholodenko seems to have nothing to say about her characters, the plot is propelled by absurd turns of events that make no internal sense to the film. Absurdity piles upon absurdity, leaving the viewer more aghast than drawn in.
For her part, Bening attempts to make sense of the shrill, control-freak character she plays. But, in doing so, she seems to be at cross-purposes with her director. The problem is that in making Nic as real as she can, Bening creates someone utterly unsympathetic. But Cholodenko seems to want the viewer to like and identify with this character. The result is that you just don't care.
The film never really goes anywhere. The thin plot has a tacked-on ending that comes out of nowhere. I was just glad that it was over.
I can't overstate how disappointed I was by this film's waste of talent. And by its waste of a topical premise that had the potential to give movie-goers a meaningful alternative to what passes for film entertainment in Hollywood today. Sadly, unless you want to see good actors flail about with an embarrassing script, I strongly urge you to stay away from this film.
This is not the fault of the actors. Moore and Bening are clearly committed to creating complex, sympathetic portraits of the kids' parents, Jules and Nic. Ruffalo attempts to breathe life into his role as the hapless sperm donor. Wasikowsa tries to convey the maturation of a young person about to strike out on her own.
The problem - and it is a serious one - is that the script gives the actors nothing to work with. Cholodenko, who co-wrote the screenplay, can't make up her mind whether she's directing a slice-of-life family drama, a satiric portrait of stereotypical characters, or a sex farce. She succeeds only in creating a confusing mess that works as none of the above.
Things go badly early, when Jules and Nic have a cringe-inducing sex scene featuring (male) gay porn. From there, the two constantly "process" their feelings. But it's unclear whether Cholodenko intends for this to be satiric or realistic; I don't think the actors have a clue. Things get worse when Jules, for petty reasons, humiliates and then fires a Latino gardener. If the purpose were to showcase some inner complexity of her character, that would be one thing. But, incredibly, the scene is played for laughs, as if the audience should find Jules' cruel behavior funny.
Since Cholodenko seems to have nothing to say about her characters, the plot is propelled by absurd turns of events that make no internal sense to the film. Absurdity piles upon absurdity, leaving the viewer more aghast than drawn in.
For her part, Bening attempts to make sense of the shrill, control-freak character she plays. But, in doing so, she seems to be at cross-purposes with her director. The problem is that in making Nic as real as she can, Bening creates someone utterly unsympathetic. But Cholodenko seems to want the viewer to like and identify with this character. The result is that you just don't care.
The film never really goes anywhere. The thin plot has a tacked-on ending that comes out of nowhere. I was just glad that it was over.
I can't overstate how disappointed I was by this film's waste of talent. And by its waste of a topical premise that had the potential to give movie-goers a meaningful alternative to what passes for film entertainment in Hollywood today. Sadly, unless you want to see good actors flail about with an embarrassing script, I strongly urge you to stay away from this film.