The Sleepy Time Gal

I can't help thinking that this film thought it was a much better film than it actually was. I just couldn't connect with it. It came off as pretentious. I also couldn't help but notice a heavy stylistic influence from Woody Allen of all people here (editing and music style, but done clumsily) which didn't fit at all. Also, what was with the Spanish guitar music? This whole film just seemed incoherent. The acting didn't work - little really worked right in this film. Maybe I missed the point because I was too asleep to follow it. I found it even difficult to enjoy the San Francisco scenery. This movie was just work to watch.

=by the way, what's so beautiful about Jacqueline Bisset? Anyone else notice that every time she said the word "idea" it came out as "IDEAR"? - very annoying.

This director is going nowhere.

Forget about Sissy Spacek and Halle Berry. If "The Sleepy Time Gal" had been released theatrically in 2001 (and the fact that no distributor picked it up is a tragic commentary on the state of today's film scene), the glorious Jacqueline Bisset would have been awarded the Best Actress Oscar at last week's dismal ceremony. Long-acclaimed for her dazzling beauty ("The Deep," "Class," etc.), but sadly overlooked for her impeccable acting abilities (was everyone dozing when she gave breathtaking performances of subtlety and nuance in "Under the Volcano," "Rich and Famous," "High Season," "Le Ceremonie," etc.), Ms. Bisset's portrayal of a woman trying to put her life in order when she is told she has terminal cancer is one of the finest performances ever committed to celluloid. Independently produced on a low-budget, "Sleepy Time Gal" is exactly the type of superior filmmaking so rare these days, and the fact that it was sold to the Sundance Channel (where it premiered on March 29, 2002) instead of being theatrically distributed to art-houses whose discerning patrons crave exactly this type of subtle, intelligent, exquisite jewel of a film) is a tragedy. Christopher Munch's direction/screenplay are sublime. In supporting roles, Amy Madigan, Seymour Cassell, Nick Stahl, and Martha Plimpton give performances of astonishing intelligence and warmth. As does Jacqueline Bisset, probably the finest and most underrated (as well as achingly beautiful) actress of all time. Ms. Bisset's performance, heartfelt, honest, totally devoid of histrionics, is truly to be cherished! As is "The Sleepy Time Gal."

The Sleepy Time Gal is one of the finest American independent films in recent memory, featuring superb performances and a refreshing plotline. While it was regrettably underseen theatrically, Jacqueline Bisset delivers her finest performance to date as a mother searching for meaning in lost loves and missed chances. Nick Stahl's rendition of her photographer son is pleasantly nuanced and complex, while Martha Plimpton, always a joy to watch, shows unusual vulnerability in her role as the long-lost daughter. Supporting cast Frankie Faison, Seymour Cassel and Peggy Gormley are also superb. A must-see for those who value thoughtful character-driven filmmaking not aimed at the 12-year-old demographic.

I want my hour and a half back. Frankly, I think Frances had a pretty good life considering how little effort she put into it. Aging college dropout drifts between relationships while having kids she doesn't provide for. I got the feeling she's too dumb to make anything of herself and too proud to wait tables.

It's hard to tell, though, what with the jumbled up way the story was presented.

How about that "stop the car, kiss, and then start driving again" thing with Frances and Bob? What's with that? I expected it to go somewhere, but it just fizzled.

And what's with the completely gratuitous Jimmy Dupree hook? I couldn't figure out if it's "I did yo mama, and now I'm gonna do you, too" or "Look, we must be sophisticated cause we're showing interracial relationships".

I agree, this could have been a nice little film, but it looks like someone dropped the ball.

"The Sleep Time Gal" is a the top of the heap in the little indie bone yard; that place, just around the corner from cable television and next door to standard broadcast, where the many failed hopes and dreams of independent film makers go after they die in the marketplace. A near miss with many good qualities, the film is a meandering, plaintive reflection by a dying woman (Bisset) without a story of sufficient consequence to make one want to sit through it. The film starts well and then unravels, opening issues it can't close, showing us stuff we couldn't care less about like the mushroom thing, and generally boring the thumb toward to fast forward button. A misfire with lost potential and obvious talent behind it, "TSTG" should RIP. (C-)