vonnie-4

This is the kind of movie that people either love or gag at. Willing suspension of belief on the viewer's part is absolutely essential for one to enjoy this film, and thanks goodness I was in the right frame of mind. I was thoroughly charmed, despite cliches that fell thick as snow, hammy secondary characters (especially Carroll O'Connor who way over-does the The Irish Granddad) and impossible situations. Minnie Driver and David Duchovny are instantly likeable, and they have that indefinable something called chemistry together that makes everyone fervently wish things will turn out well for them at the end. And things do turn out all right; it's a romantic comedy after all.

Although the script is funny and the setting of old Chicago neighborhood nicely quaint, the main element that makes this work is the appeal of the two leads. Driver's expressive face lends credibility to the vulnerability and longing in Grace, and Duchovny's effortless charm is sure to set many a female heart amongst the audience aflutter. Of the supporting characters, I really enjoyed the director Bonnie Hunt in her patented best friend role, as well as James Belushi, who plays her lovable slob of a husband to a tee.

So my advice is this; Don't look for shattering realism, leave the jaded world view outside and put on your rose-tinted glasses when you enter the theater. If you let it, "Return to Me" might just charm the socks off you.

Of many good things about this multi-layered movie, what grabbed me immediately and most viscerally was the look of the film. I was spellbound from the first shot, when the hint of flickering light in the blue mist is oh-so-gradually revealed as the lamp swinging in a boat lost on the sea. The movie is like a long elegiac sigh, with images of water permeating through the fabric of the story from beginning to the end. We see the raindrops falling on the dark blue sea, snow covering the courthouse roof where the trial occurs, and we see our young lovers embrace in untutored passion, with their rain-soaked bodies in shadow, and their breath mingling within the cedar tree. All this is photographed so exquisitely that just gazing at the screen could make you weep with the sheer beauty of the landscape.

On this background, Hicks tells a story of betrayal and forgiveness. At the heart of the movie is a death that might have been caused by a man, an outsider enraged by the betrayal of a promise. Surrounding it is the larger betrayal of the Japanese Americans by their friends and neighbors during WWII, when they were herded into a camp for having the wrong-colored skin. Perhaps deliberately, the haunting image of the Japanese-Americans in their flight uncannily resembles the often-filmed image of the Jews in Nazi-Europe in the earlier part of the war. Above all, there is a story of a personal betrayal, a betrayal of love by a Japanese girl who caved in to the pressure of her family who couldn't abide her feelings for a white boy. All this is inextricably bound together, and the beauty of the story lies in the way an act of personal forgiveness leads to the partial redemption of a larger wrong.

In a lovely, understated performance, Ethan Hawk quietly embodies the inner torments of Ishmael, the boy who grew up to be a man so full of bitterness and regret, that he contemplates punishing his old love with an act morally reprehensible yet emotionally understandable. Youki Kudoh is equally strong as Hatsue whose fragile beauty belies the inner core of strength. The best acting chops, however, come from Max von Sydow, whose turn as the defense lawyer is rich with wit, quiet passion and integrity. His closing statement is one of the most moving courtroom scenes I've ever seen.

Hicks takes a difficult stand here in telling a potentially sensational story measure by slow measure, using images and sound more than dialogue. It demands patience and deeper emotional involvement from the viewer, but the reward at the end is ample indeed.

Having read and loathed the book (relatively speaking of course; I usually love Austen), I went into the theater with no small trepidation. The book "Mansfield Park" has a singularly unappealing protagonist in Fanny Price, a simpering and timid milksop, which was a big shock after "Pride and Prejudice" whose Elizabeth Bennett is surely one of the most enchanting fictional heroines ever. The book is also dense and long without the trademark Austen lively wit. And then, there is the confusing "play within play" plot which further muddles the story.

OK, I got that off my chest. Phew. Now about the movie. I enjoyed it very much in its own fashion. It is rather unfaithful to the book, other than the general plot line. That's not necessarily a bad thing. In this free adaptation of Austen via Rozema, Fanny is portrayed as a determined woman, of intelligence, strength of character and mischief. She is more Austen and Elizabeth Bennett than the Fanny from the book, and her appeal is magnified by the performance of the wonderfully expressive new Australian actress, Frances O'Connor. They also canned the whole thing about the play (just barely skimmed over), thank God. The story moves along briskly, starting with the poor relation Fanny coming to live with the rich Bertrams, then making friends with the second son Edmund whom she comes to love as she matures into young womanhood. As with all Austen novels, it is about an independent-minded woman who finds her way into a wedded bliss, through many trials and tribulations. Between Fanny and her heart's desires lay obstacles, mainly in the form of a very attractive but amoral pair of brother and sister, Henry and Mary Crawford. Mary sets her sight on Edmund, and Henry, although initially interested in the empty-brained Bertram sisters, starts pursuing Fanny. The chase begins as a challenge, but gradually turns into something resembling a genuine feeling. In Rozema's hand, Henry is a scoundrel but is made rather appealing and sympathetic, someone who gives the annoyingly decent Edmund a fair competition. Fanny almost gives into him (not so in the novel) and her resolution to hold onto her true love is made more courageous because of Henry's appeal.

The movie is lovely to look at, and the music is appropriately frothy. The performances are variable, with the clear distinction in the outstanding Ms. O'Connor. Embeth Davitz's turn as mercenary Mary is chilling, and Harold Pinter is excellent as the mercurial Sir Bertram, who is simultaneously affable and brutal. I had the most problems with Johnny Lee Miller's Edmund, whose wooden delivery made me wonder why he had Fanny's devotion.

The film's not a masterpiece by any stretch (and is inferior to SENSE AND SENSIBILITY in wit and to PERSUASION in heart), but nonetheless very enjoyable. A lesser Austen is still an Austen, I guess. The film also has a modern sensibility that's sometimes jarring. There is a very 20th century outrage in slavery, quirky pauses in camera work, Fanny talking directly to the camera (tricky but it works) and even a hint of lesbianism that's rather uncalled forAt any rate, it's entertaining, different, and worth the price of admission just to see the luminous Frances O'Connor. I feel I owe her a small debt of gratitude for making Fanny finally palatable, and for that, I expect grand things from this actress.