Oliver's Story

The (belated) sequel to "Love Story", "Oliver's Story" was rejected by audiences at the box office, and it's all but forgotten today, even with it being released on both VHS and DVD. Watching it, it's pretty easy to figure out why. For one thing, it's hard to sympathize with Oliver; while he has lost his wife, he is rich and with a good job, and he just silently mopes around instead of expressing anguish or sadness. Not surprisingly, O'Neal performance is lacklustre. While Candace Bergman actually give a better performance than most of the other movies she made in the '70s, she lacks spark and spirit. What on earth do these two people see in each other? And the end of the movie is very unsatisfying, leaving the characters' plot threads in the air. The only real good thing about the movie is Ray Milland, though he only makes a few brief appearances.

If love really does mean never having to say your sorry, then the producers of Oliver's Story should consider themselves lucky, because otherwise they'd have a lot to apologize for. Banal, melancholic and tepidly shallow, Oliver's Story is of all things a complete antithesis to Hiller's infinitely superior Love Story. Where Love Story was a celebration of life in the midst of death, Oliver's Story is narratively lifeless, so wallowing in death that in retrospect makes the finale of the first film seem like Laugh-In. In Love Story, Arthur Hiller was able to capture the optimism, vitality and spirit of its youth subjects, providing its flower children audience with a moral center to believe in. Here was a couple, Jenny and Oliver, who overcame class, religious and parental boundaries to create a marriage based on love over money or politics or heritage. Love Story was the penultimate baby boomer picture, a movie for youth the world over to celebrate their liberal optimism and flower power innocence.

In Oliver's Story these characters have grown tired, and so has the first film's spirit. The motivated, liberated youth from the first film become the self-centered, pouty aristocrats that populate this sequel. The hippie sensibilities of the first have been replaced with yuppie complacency, as Oliver goes on a journey discovering that hey, plant ownership ain't so bad after all. The "love story" in this film is pointless, since both characters care too much about themselves to ever come close to capturing the shared bonding between Oliver and Jenny in the first film. Marcie fills her life with recreation, be it tennis, fancy dinners or overseas photography. Oliver starts off a lawyer with a social concern, but ends up accepting his position into land-owning bourgeois society all because, you guessed it, Jenny would want him to do so. Please.

The movie is called Oliver's Story, and if it is to be about Oliver's soul searching, it is the most passive and empty searching as I've ever seen. O'Neal, who can be great when he wants to be, is reduced to pouting while looking onto open landscapes. While the film covers a span of two years, the dreary setting remains a constant winter, and the trees are as dead as the emotion in this film. Some will call it smart for eschewing the standard romance plot, as Bergen's character becomes a write-off after an abrupt confrontation two-thirds in, but it is just arrogant writing. Writer Erich Segal (who also penned the first film), seems determined to breakaway from seemingly low brow romance conventions, but in so doing he has created a totally stale and empty film. What is a romance film without any romance? Even the brief sex scene between O'Neal and Bergen is so truncated and undeveloped that it amounts to all the eroticism of a loaf of bread. Stale.

The film veers from being a love story to being an empty film on just how oh-so-tough it is being bourgeois. The first film worked so well because Ali MacGraw brought a spunk to her lower class Jenny, who in turn was able to free Oliver from his upper class conceits. Without Jenny, Oliver is just another pouty aristocrat, and nobody wants to see a movie about the wealthy complaining about how hard off they are. Sorry, but tennis matches, overseas trips and countryside dinners do not strike me as a particularly sympathetic lifestyle, widower or not.

The whole film is an insult to the original, embracing money over love, individual self-pity over altruistic compassion, and pouting over pleasure. It's one big melancholic bore, where we spend ninety minutes waiting for Oliver to come to the conclusion he should have reached at Jenny's funeral, and that is the need to move on. What does he move to? The comfort of his father's wealth. For those two lovers in the first film, who needed only love to make it, such a conclusion is particularly disheartening. Those who wish to preserve their love for the first film and its characters are best to avoid this sellout Love $tory.

Oliver Barrett, a young widower-lawyer in New York City, is morose at singles bars, a dud on fix-up dates and misty-eyed on the analyst's couch; while visiting an old haunt, he meets a beautiful woman jogging who sasses him and challenges him to a game of tennis ("Bring your ass," she tells him, "so I can whip it!"--to which Oliver replies, "Well, I guess you'll bring the balls!"). Erich Segal co-adapted his novel, a sequel to 1970's hugely popular "Love Story", but quickly found that his audience had moved on. Ryan O'Neal returns as Oliver, and Ray Milland is back as Barrett's stern father, but what's the point beyond the hazards of trying to replace a deceased love with a replica? One can sense right away that Segal is trying to resurrect the past, not just follow it up; he has the audacity to begin the film with Jenny's funeral (the mourners sniffling, the casket being lowered into the ground, etc.) while Francis Lai's 1970 love theme rises up in the background. We're just passed the opening credits and the picture is already putting the squeeze on us. Jump ahead 18 months and Oliver, waking up to Jenny's picture on the end table, is being told to get on with it (his father-in-law tells him, "If it had been you who died and not Jenny...well, she wasn't the type to enter a nunnery."). It's all very polished and smooth and banal, with Candice Bergen the all-knowing new girlfriend: too smart, too pert, too sensitive. *1/2 from ****

America's favorite romantic couple back in the 70s were definitely Ryan O'Neal and Ali McGraw from Love Story. I think Oliver's Story was a film that Paramount had to remake because I think America wanted to know how Oliver Barrett carried on without Jenny Cavelleri.

That's where Oliver's Story begins, he's become the successful lawyer that he strived for. But he's empty, Jenny so completed him that everything and everyone else is measured by her. That is true of Candice Bergen, a successful owner of a textile company who O'Neal tries to get something going with.

Watching the film they'll be several different schools of thought as to whether things might have worked out between O'Neal and Bergen. It is clear that O'Neal just won't reconcile himself that life goes on and as long as he's fogging a mirror he's part of life.

One thing I did like in this film is the reconciliation between O'Neal and his father Ray Milland, the only two who repeated their roles from Love Story. Those scenes in the mill where the Barrett family fortune was made are quite well done, best part of Oliver's Story by far.

It's not Love Story by any means, but Oliver's Story is a decent enough film on its own merits and doesn't deserve the trashing it got.

Love may mean never having to say you're sorry, but death means not having to be in the sequel to Love Story. In this one, Ryan O'Neal has to struggle with being a rich, idealistic attorney in an affair with fabulously wealthy Candace Bergen who treats him to a trip to Hong Kong.

Life is not what it should be, however, since rich father Ray Milland wants him to take over the family business and Candace Bergen actually thinks that her job running Bonwit Teller is more important than paying constant attention to O'Neal.