Love in the Time of Money

Love In The Time Of Money is very representative of its era of independent films. First, it is an ensemble piece, including frequent "Indy" stars Steve Buscemi and Rosario Dawson. Second, it has an interesting artistic mechanism to advance the plot: daisy-chaining from one character to the next. Third, it's a lot of slice-of-life moments with similar themes but no particular overriding plot. Fourth, there is a lot of intense inner-city camera work, and diverse camera angles to juxtapose, art, scenery, and faces. Five, the performances of the members of the ensemble run the gamut of tired (Malcolm Gets) to sublime (Carol Kane) and mostly solid with an emphasis on quirkiness in between.

So, with all the other bases covered, I read other IMDb reviews to make sure that it has the most important characteristic to be representative of today's independent films. Its supporters wax enthusiastically about how different its perspectives are from "your typical Hollywood films." At the end of the day, the film is blessedly short by such standards (87 minutes), and certainly watchable, so if you are looking to pass time, you could do worse -- but you could do better. For me, this defines mediocre. One notable exception: if you love Carol Kane who appears in the second half of the film with characters Nick and Will, take the time to see her magnificent performance -- easily the best in the film.

"Love in the Time of Money" is a deeply affecting arthouse picture, more remarkable for the incendiary performances of its cast than for its story. Although the script is quite exceptional--namely for its delectable, believably human, dialogue--the plot revolves around some rather familiar scenarios in contemporary (arthouse) cinema, such as the hardships faced by a fledgling prostitute, the deterioration of an emotionally cold marriage, and the desperation of a troubled corporate drone. It seems almost impossible not to conjure up comparisons to "Leaving Las Vegas," "Happiness," and other bleak narratives of the same ilk. Still, writer/director Peter Mattei draws upon his background in the theatre to create complex characters and elicit staggering performances from his entire cast. The visual style of the film offers additional intrigue--gorgeous close-ups and very non-traditional (yet meaningful and mood-enhancing) framing provide proof that not all features shot on digital video are obliged to be shaky, amateurish messes (or effects-reliant space epics, for that matter). A highly promising debut feature from an exciting new cinematic talent, "Love in the Time of Money" is a low-budget gem that obviously made good use of the time and money put into it, and is certainly worth yours.

I kind of enjoyed it until I nodded out on it. The structure is that of a skin flick. Characters are linked as in La Ronde or The Leopard Man. We meet Jill Hennesy, who is a class act, no doubt about it, and isn't getting along with her husband, and so makes it with a plumber or something. (Don't worry. The sex isn't explicit and there is no nudity.) It's marvelous, though, to see Jill Hennesy, the modelesque and feminist lawyer on "Law and Order" asking some surprisingly sensitive goon who is trying to help her hang up a painting to do her a favor -- "Make love to me." Okay.

She finds her husband, some kind of art dealer, not interested in her sexually. (!) She kisses him and tells him, "I'm horny," and he walks silently away and turns on his favorite jazz piano record, while she turns on every noisy appliance in their high-end apartment.

So why (you ask) is the husband indifferent to her charms? What's the matter with him. Is he gay? Well -- yes. Or rather bisexual, I suppose, since he married her in the first place. But hubby's real interest is in Steve Buscemi, an artist, and he comes on to Buscemi in a rather assertive manner and tries to kiss him. I don't know why. Buscemi is a great actor and a delight to see on the screen but, my God, he's got the canines of a vampire. Buscemi gently tells him, "I'm not gay." But then there is a love scene between them. I can't tell how explicit this was because I was covering my eyes and having an attack of homosexual anxiety.

Fortunately the next episode, involving Buscemi and Rosario Dawson, was enough to reassure me about my gender identity. Is there a greater constitutional puzzle than Rosario Dawson? Most people, at a glance, would classify her as African-American and yet she's a salad of racial genes, no more biologically "black" than "white" or "Hispanic". Something similar holds for people of mixed race like Halle Berrie and Mariah Carey. If you took all the genes of all the humans in the world and put them into a blender they would come out looking like these actresses (only more ordinary). They only belong to one or another racial classification because they -- and we -- say they do. This is known as "the social construction of reality." Now I'd like you all the read Berger and Luckman because there will be a quiz.

Next episode: Dawson has some sort of confrontation with her handsome white boyfriend. "We have to talk about this," she says. (I'm not making that up.) It was about this point in the movie that eurythmic breathing set in.

Anyway, you get the picture. One sexual episode leads to another, just as in a skin flick, except that here there is no nudity and any coitus we witness is simulated. In other words, in this movie, the emphasis is on the interludes between sexual encounters. And what are they like? They're like Woody Allen, that's what they're like. Ordinary little people doing ordinary little things that have to do with relationships. When Jill Hennesy and the picture-hanger are looking through a kitchen drawer for a hammer, they find there is no hammer. But Hennesy takes out one irrelevant item after another and dangles it before him? A box of staples. "No good?"

And at the bottom of the drawer, one of those flat plastic containers from a Chinese restaurant that everyone seems to save. "Soy sauce," says the plumber.

If it hand't been on TV at such a late hour I would probably have watched it through, although the ordinary little people, on screen or in real life, can be a little dull at time. Will Rosario Dawson reject Buscemi's appeal to let him paint her? I really didn't care except for the vague hope that we'd discover whether Rosario Dawson's figure was as mouthwatering as the rest of her.

An unambitious movie, but nice New York locations, and the acting is quite good really. It's Hennesy's best role at any rate.

This movie is best watched late at night (if you can stay awake). It is 90 minutes long where the first 85 minutes are an odd and eerie sequence of scenes that seem to transfer from one character to the next in what appear to be chronological order. Then in the last 5 minutes the movie's point unfolds, and you're left with an interesting puzzle that may make you want to see it again: was the movie forward chronological, reverse chronological, disconnected, or an endless paradox that is broken in the "end", which is were the movie began? Makes me wonder if the title is a riddle, too. The first 5 minutes is also important, if you're trying to close the loop.

`Love in the Time of Money' is an adaptation of `Reigen," Arthur Schnitzler's scandalous 1897 play that follows a daisy-chain of sexual encounters, where one person moves to the next, until it comes full circle to the first in the chain. This debut film from Peter Mattei, also a playwright and theater director, shows a promising filmmaker, but watch out for the cautionary yellow flags.

The classic plot line has been seen by many films and stage productions, each with its own comment on how sex plays a role in the human spirit. In Mattei's version, sex is used solely as a coping mechanism when all else fails. In each vignette, an emotionally depressed person emotionally capitulates to another who appears to be emotionally stable. As the needy weans off the strength of the stronger, who is in turn strengthened by being needed, both try to fill their emotional reservoir. This ultimately leads to sex, but its short-term effects prove inadequate. When the realities of the stronger person come crashing down, this never-ending chain of events perpetuates from one person to the next.

The best part of the film is how very intense, complex human character is painted so concisely using the most minimal of brush strokes. Make no mistake, the characters are very abstract, and do not necessarily represent how we might envision realistic dialog, but that's not the point. Instead, their features are very intentional, accented in deliberate ways to punctuate and exaggerate primal motivations, frailties, and lusts in order to illustrate how we cope with life.

Much can be said about the script, though not all good -- it is inconsistent at times -- but it is, in many ways, artful and skillful in its depiction of deeper complex character profiles. While it isn't the audience's responsibility to recognize the difficulty in accomplishing this task with only a few short lines of dialog, Mattei does it well for a debut filmmaker. That said, won't appeal to most audiences, nor would he enjoy such leniency from critics in future films.

The worst parts of the film are too noteworthy not to chop several point off the top. First, the title itself (and the production notes) suggests that the reason for people's emotional and spiritual deterioration is somehow attributable to a financially rich society, where waste mirrors our loss of our values, purpose and meaning of life. Yet, that premise is never presented as a backdrop to any of the vignettes in the movie, and in only one case has money been the instrument of a character's downfall. The fact that the filmmaker lost his intended vision of the film is also evident in other aspects of the film, leaving its entire message or purpose unclear. One common element is the use of sex as the great savior of the spirit, yet no one ever wins, but this is more of a statement of the obvious than a compelling message or theme.

Despite my enthusiasm for the film's positive points, `Love in the Time of Money' is not for the causal film-goer. It requires a more adept indie-film aficionado and mature student of human nature to better appreciate its better qualities. Alas, the film's drawbacks, especially its lack of a more coherent message, leave it dry in the end. Still, I have to end on a high note, by giving it credit for depicting deeper, complex character profiles in short time-slices, a quality not easily done by debut filmmakers. Bravo for that.