3/12/15: Where There’s a Mom, There’s a Way

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abandoned in a foreign place, adult friendships, Andres Munar, Anthony Chisholm, bittersweet, Bradford Young, cinema, co-directors, co-writers, Colombian immigrants, coming of age, courage, dramas, dysfunctional marriage, Eddie Martinez, Entre Nos, feature-film debut, female friendships, film festival favorite, film reviews, films, Gil Talmi, Gloria La Morte, homeless, homeless children, husband-wife relationship, immigration, inspired by true events, Jacqueline Duprey, Laura Montana, motherhood, Movies, multiple directors, multiple writers, Paola Mendoza, Sarita Choudhury, Sebastian Villada, self-sacrifice, set in New York City, single mother, Spanish-language films, strength, writer-director-actor

Think about Mariana (Paola Mendoza) the next time you’re having a bummer day: uprooting herself and her two children from their lives in Colombia, she follows her shifty husband, Antonio (Andres Munar), all the way to Queens, New York, only for him to suddenly head off to sunny Miami, where he’s decided to start a new life…one that doesn’t include his “old” family. Alone in a foreign land, unable to speak the language, jobless and with children in tow, Mariana’s options look as grim and hopeless as they do scarce. Like I said: there are bad days…and then there are BAD days.

The human spirit is a funny thing, though, the kind of inner power that would make a superhero blush. When someone has the will to survive and the relentless drive to keep pushing forward, against all odds…well, pretty much anything is possible. Paola Mendoza and Gloria La Morte’s extraordinary Entre Nos (2009) is testament to this notion of inner strength, a semi-autobiographical story about an unstoppable mother’s ferocious fight to keep her family together, despite every disaster, tragedy, hiccup and speed bump that the universe can possibly throw at her. What could have been maudlin, overly emotional or obvious becomes vibrant, life-affirming and genuinely resonant in the hands of the truly gifted filmmakers and cast.

While Entre Nos (roughly, “between us”) is about the struggles that immigrants face when coming to a new country, it’s also about how easy it is for people to slip from the scant comfort of the “lower” classes into the abject terror of homelessness: as Mendoza and La Morte show, there’s only a few short steps and misfortunes that lead from four walls and a floor to a park bench. There’s a universality to the film that goes far beyond the nationalities of its protagonists: while not all of may have first-hand experiences with the struggles of being an emigrant to a foreign country, it’s fair to say that any and everyone worries, at least in the back of their heads, where their next meal is coming from.

It’s to Mendoza and La Morte’s great credit that they manage to combine these twin struggles, that of the immigrant and the newly homeless, into such a potent, vibrant stew. As mentioned earlier, there’s nothing overly sentimental or aggressively manipulative about the film: we’re simply shown a woman who’s been thrown into a hole and, rather than bemoan that fact, simply puts her head down and starts digging her way out. There’s a refreshing matter-of-factness to the way in which Mariana sizes up any given situation and acts: she’s conflicted, sure, and we get more than a couple heart-breaking breakdown, along the way…that’s just the unfortunate other half of the human condition. When the chips are down, however, Mariana has a resilience and power that’s positively inspiring: if she doesn’t let life beat her down, why should we?

Entre Nos, then, is about the struggles of the immigrant and the ever-present threat of personal and economic collapse: that would be a potent enough one-two punch for just about any film. There’s more under the hood, however, than just the “big” issues: Mendoza and La Morte’s film is also about the relationship between a mother and her children, about trying to balance being a kid with becoming an adult and about the importance of providing for your family, regardless of the costs or sacrifice. It’s about friendships, those halting ones that begin over shared strife and continue based on genuine love.

This is Mariana’s story but it’s not hers, alone, to tell: characters like the kindly recycling maven, Joe (Anthony Chisholm), or Mariana’s landlord/hesitant friend, Preet (an absolutely extraordinary Sarita Choudhury), contribute just as much to the overall tapestry, but we’d be remiss not to mention the reason for Mariana’s constant struggle: her beloved son, Gabriel (Sebastian Villada), and daughter, Andrea (Laura Montana). As strong as the rest of the cast are, Villada and Montana still manage to shine as the equally resilient kids. It’s a real treat watching Gabriel, slowly, become a man, while Andrea provides a necessary innocence and sense of child-like optimism to circumstances that could certainly be deemed soul-crushing.

Entre Nos isn’t just an acting tour de force, however: the film is exquisitely crafted and looks amazing. Props to Gil Talmi for a funky, head-bobbing score that mixes cumbias with more “traditional” dramatic scores and only occasionally dips into stereotypically “serious” territory. The often gorgeous cinematography, courtesy of Bradford Young, has endless appeal: there’s one shot that frames Mariana and her sleeping children like the Pieta and is almost impossibly beautiful. In the years since Entre Nos’ release, Young would go on to shoot a couple of films called Selma (2014) and A Most Violent Year (2014): you know…no big deal…

Like the particular spot of land that it depicts, Entre Nos is nothing if not a melting pot of influences, styles, points of view and ways of life. There’s a vibrancy and immediacy to the proceedings that pulls viewers in and keeps us right in the thick of things: if I had to compare the filmmakers’ style to anything, it would be latter-day John Sayles, which is pretty damn high praise, indeed. There’s an eye and ear for the way that every-day folk talk and interact that cuts thorough generations of artificial bullshit and gets right to the heart of the human condition: each and every one of us deserves to live our lives to the fullest of our potential, regardless of our individual situations.

We find out, at the end, that Andrea became a filmmaker and created Entre Nos as a tribute and testament to the strength of her mother. It makes perfect sense: everything about the film has the feel of a passion project and Mendoza’s triple-threat of writing-directing-acting is nothing short of stunning. Reminiscent of Marion Cotillard’s powerful blend of iron-will and vulnerability, Mendoza’s performance is utterly unforgettable and the film’s deserves all of the love that it’s received at festivals since its release (although a little mainstream attention might be nice…).

Exemplifying the very best aspects of the human condition, Entre Nos is a film that deserves not only praise for its technical and thematic elements but for its ability to unite us all under one common need, regardless of race, class, gender, nationality or political affiliation: if you can’t understand and empathize with Mariana’s need to make a better life for herself and her children, well, pardner…I’m gonna go ahead and assume that you’re not human. In this one case, the film was definitely not made for you: move along…absolutely nothing to see here, whatsoever.

1/29/15: The Lunatic is Us

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'80s comedies, 1980s films, adult friendships, Brother Theodore, Bruce Dern, Carrie Fisher, cinema, comedies, Corey Feldman, Courtney Gains, Dana Olsen, dark comedies, Dick MIller, eccentric people, film reviews, films, Gale Gordon, Gremlins, Henry Gibson, Jerry Goldsmith, Joe Dante, Movies, mysteries, neighbors, Rick Ducommun, Robert M. Stevens, strange families, suburban homes, suburban life, suburbia, The 'Burbs, Tom Hanks, Wendy Schaal

Ah, suburbia: to some, the identical, immaculately maintained homes, on perfectly manicured lawns, at the ends of respectably located cul de sacs, are the ultimate light at the end of the tunnel, the happy reward for a life properly lived. Two-car garages, Scrabble with the Wilsons on Tuesday, beers and polite small-talk with the guys on Thursdays, regular garbage pick-up plus recycling (separate the glass) and close proximity to a dog park. Neighborhood watch keeps them safe, every kid gets invited to the birthday parties and there’s always someone around to lend them a wrench, ride or shoulder. Do you smell that? Fresh-cut grass and fresh-baked cookies, I do believe. Yes, indeed, neighborino…for some folks, suburbia is one sweet dream.

To others, however, it might be a little closer to hell on earth. All of those rows of tightly packed, anonymous houses, yards so close you can sneeze and hit your neighbor, tight streets choked with cars and children. The Wilsons are always complaining about the branches on your scrawny tree, there’s always dog shit on your lawn and some jerk keeps throwing fast food trash into your recycle bin. Every identical window contains an identical pair of staring eyes and they always seem to be interested in every single thing you do. Do you smell that? If so, call the HOA: there’s probably a regulation against it. And what, exactly, is your neighbor doing in his garage at 3 in the morning?

Joe Dante’s The ‘Burbs (1989) deals with the head-on collision between the dream and the nightmare of suburbia, territory that’s been fertile ground for cinema for some time. Think back to films like Neighbors (1981), with Jim Belushi and Dan Ackroyd or Neighbors (2014), with Seth Rogen and Zac Efron, if you prefer. Don’t forget about Parents (1989), Serial Mom (1994) or Blue Velvet (1986), either. Since this is Dante we’re dealing with, the mischievous imp behind The Howling (1981), Gremlins (1984) and Matinee (1993), we know that The ‘Burbs will examine suburbia through a darkly comic lens: since it stars Tom Hanks, one of the biggest, most likable actors of the ’80s and ’90s, we know that the ride won’t be too dark…ol’ Tom wouldn’t do us like that. In the process, we get a film that aspires to some of the same dark power as films like Neighbors (1981) and Parents, yet, ultimately, tempers everything with the kind of “feel-goodism” that was par for the course in many ’80s films. It’s no Gremlins but, if you think about it…what is?

In many ways, Ray Peterson (Tom Hanks) is the prototypical ’80s every-man: wife, son, house in the suburbs, makes decent money, lots of kooky neighbors, cheerful outlook on life, if slightly hassled, over-worked and a little too high-strung. He doesn’t take enough time off, knows everyone on the block by name and is a little too susceptible to peer pressure. His best buddy and next-door-neighbor, Art (Rick Ducommun), is high maintenance, the kind of guy who barges into your kitchen and starts eating your breakfast. Ray’s neighborhood also includes retired (and slightly wackadoodle) Lt. Mark Rumsfield (Bruce Dern) and his much younger wife, Bonnie (Wendy Schaal); old Walter (Gale Gordon) and his yappy little dog; and Ricky (Corey Feldman), the teenager who uses the neighborhood as his own, personal TV show. At Hinkley Hills, life is good.

Trouble comes in the form of Ray’s secretive new next-door-neighbors, the Klopeks. Rarely seen and never spoken with, the Klopeks violate the established order of the neighborhood by standing outside of the accepted social order. They don’t lend sugar, they don’t share a beer…they don’t seem to do much of anything, although strange sounds and smells seem to come from the decidedly sinister-looking house at odd hours of the night. Egged on by Art and Mark, Ray begins to view the neighbors with a suspicious eye, especially when efforts to meet them are continually (and comically) rebuffed.

When Walter seems to disappear, however, Art and Mark are convinced that the Klopeks are to blame. Despite the level-headed sanity of Ray’s wife, Carol (Carrie Fisher), Ray finds himself going down the rabbit-hole of paranoia and fear: are the Klopeks Satanists? Murderers? Aliens? Robots? There’s only one way to find out: breach the unknown and actually enter the Klopeks home. What they find there, however, will both answer and raise a multitude of questions. Just who are the Klopeks and what are they doing at Hinkley Hills? Good thing Ray and the Subarbanites are on the case!

For the most part, The ‘Burbs is a fun, if rather typical, ’80s comedy: vibrant, fast-paced, often silly and/or slapsticky, with just enough of a dark edge to distinguish it from the pack. The edge, of course, comes from director Joe Dante, the genre auteur who gifted us with such unforgettable films as the original Piranha (1978), Gremlins and its sequel, The Howling, Explorers (1985) and The Hole (2009). Dante is an absolute wizard at combining humor and horror, although he dabbles in plenty of non-horror-related fare, as well (see Explorers, among others). There are plenty of horror elements in The ‘Burbs, not least of which are the spook-show organs that signal the Klopeks and their home, although the film is not actually a horror movie.

Rather, the film is a clever dissection of suburban life, albeit one that gets tempered a bit by the twist resolution that spins the narrative in a decidedly “safer” direction. Dante’s intent can best be summed up in the penultimate scene where Ray publicly denounces all of the terrible things that he and his friends have done to the Klopeks, all in the pursuit of uncovering their “otherness.” The mysterious, secretive Klopeks aren’t the lunatics, he shouts: their supposedly “normal” neighbors are. We have seen the enemy and it is us, if you will.  It’s a bracing notion, certainly one of the high points of writer Dana Olsen’s script, and one that Dante wrings every last ounce of irony from. Too bad, then, that things get unraveled so soon after, although I can chalk that up to the Hollywood propensity for a happy ending more than anything else.

Hanks, of course, is Hanks. Let’s be frank…love him or hate him, Tom Hanks is the epitome of a box office star for one simple reason: he’s impossibly likable on-screen. Despite playing some of the most high-strung, needy, nerdy, goofy and nebbishy characters this side of Woody Allen, Hanks always manages to be the center of attention. He has genuine “it” factor, that ill-defined star quality that separates the good from the great and it’s an effortless quality: we always pull for Ray because he’s Tom Hanks…you really want to let that guy down?

It’s not a solo show, of course (that would come a bit later): there’s plenty of support in this particular back-field. Rick Ducommun is an able foil as the oafish, if empathetic, Art: we buy the relationship between him and Hanks even if we often want to slap the smirk off his face. Ducommun gets several funny scenes including a great bit with a great dane, a good ol’ “Satanic chant” and a nice closing monologue about the power of suburbanites. Dern brings a reasonable amount of unreason to the nutty Lt. Rumsfield but we expect nothing less from our favorite nutjob. While it’s not much different from his other roles, it’s always nice to see him in something light and there’s a rare and sublime joy to the scene where he (repeatedly) puts his feet through the Klopek porch.

It’s always good to see Carrie Fisher in something light and she brings some nice nuance to a character that could have been too hectoring or, alternately, just wallpaper. I liked Ray and Carol’s relationship and thought that her casual acceptance of the situation, at the end, was a really nice, subtle comment on the myriad Ditto Feldman, who takes the stereotypical snarky teen next-door and makes him a lot more fun, cool and likable than he could’ve been. His enthusiasm over the neighborhood is the furthest thing from modern-day ennui and it’s kinda awesome to see someone so genuinely interested in something so square as his neighborhood. On the Klopek side, we have the always dependable Henry Gibson as the patriarch, Brother Theodore (a frequent voice actor who finished his 40+year career in film with The ‘Burbs) as salty Uncle Reuben and Courtney Gains as the buck-toothed Hans.

While there’s a lot working in The ‘Burbs favor, this has always been a film that I like more than love. For one thing, I find the heavy-handed elements, such as the musical cues and slapstick, to be a little tedious and the film is at least 20 minutes longer than it needs to be. Some of the setpieces, like the bee attack, are great, while others, like Art’s shock, fall a little flat. There’s an awful lot of mugging going on (Hanks is especially guilt of this) and, with the exception of Gibson’s Dr. Klopek, the other Klopeks are rather under-utilized. There are also a few details, like the mysterious wind, that are never explained. By and large, however, my biggest issue comes with the ending, which reverses the deliciously ironic note that the film promises to end on before going in a much more conventional direction. To be honest, it’s kind of a bummer, even though the final chase/fight is lots of fun.

All in all, The ‘Burbs is fun but it’s certainly no Gremlins. While there are plenty of genuinely funny moments here, the sharp edges are sanded down just enough to make the whole thing seem just a little too safe. If you’re looking to stroll the darker streets of suburbia, I’d have to recommend Parents over this one. If you just want to spend a little time with some eccentric neighbors and have the luxury of leaving them behind after 100 minutes, however, there’s certainly nothing wrong with checking into The ‘Burbs. It’s no American dream but it ain’t a nightmare, either.

12/30/14 (Part Two): Deja Vu All Over Again

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adult friendships, Alex Manugian, cinema, Coherence, comets, dinner parties, directorial debut, doppelgängers, doubles, Elizabeth Gracen, Emily Foxler, feature-film debut, film reviews, films, friends, Hugo Armstrong, James Ward Byrkit, Kristin Ohrn Dyrud, Lauren Maher, Lorene Scafaria, Maury Sterling, Movies, neighbors, Nic Sadler, Nicholas Brendon, Outer Limits, parallel universe, probability, quantum physics, sci-fi, Timecrimes, Twilight Zone, writer-director

On the night of a comet’s passage into Earth’s orbit, a group of four couples meet for dinner at one of their houses. As the friends hang out and talk, they notice that they’ve all lost cell reception. When the lights suddenly go out, the group heads outside only to discover that the entire neighborhood seems to have lost power…with the exception of a single house several streets down, that is. A hesitant mission to explore the mysteriously lit house returns with information but it’s not the kind of thing anyone wants to hear: the house is full of people, all right…eight people that look just like them.

That’s the basic set-up for writer James Ward Byrkit’s directorial debut, Coherence (2014), an exceptionally smart little bit of sci-fi paranoia that neatly slots into a year that saw a plethora of doppelgänger/double films, including the similar +1 (2014). If some of the execution comes across as a bit rushed and the acting often veers into the rough end of things, there’s no shortage of ambition here and Byrkit nails a creepy tone often enough to justify hanging in for the ride. There’s also a genuine sense of intelligence here that pushes Coherence into a select group of films that include Timecrimes (2007) and Primer (2004), nice company for a first-time director to be in. There are even times where the film achieves the kind of unexplained, Lovecraftian dread that made Denis Villeneuve’s Enemy (2014) one of my favorite films of the year: again, not bad company to be in at all.

Part of what makes Coherence such an effective film is the way in which Byrkit threads the notions of cause-and-effect and probability through the entire narrative, which twists and turns on itself like a snake. At times, the films many whiplash twists can get a bit dizzying but it never feels overwhelming, mostly because the script doles out information and audience support as needed without ever feeling overly expository. There’s still enough doubt by the film’s conclusion to make it relatively open-ended, although it feels more like a choice than the kind of “backed into a corner” resolution that can often result from this kind of film. While some of the film’s rationalizations come across as a little wonky, it never feels silly or improbable.

Another aspect of Coherence that struck me as particularly impressive was the way in which the film managed to recall the feel of vintage Twilight Zone or Outer Limits episodes without ever seeming like a slavish imitation. In particular, the basic setup reminded me of the classic “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” episode, at least on a surface level. This impression was also driven home by the film’s editing style, which often felt as if it left room for commercial breaks, for some inexplicable reason: while I wasn’t a fan of this particular quirk in the slightest, I do admit that the enjoyed the Twilight Zone association immensely.

If I had any real issue with Byrkit’s debut (the filmmaking was generally fine, although the shaky cam and over-reliance on close-ups could be distracting), it definitely resides with the often hit-or-miss acting. When the ensemble connects, they definitely feel authentic, which lends a chilling sense of realism to the admittedly bizarre events around them. When they don’t, however, the whole thing tends to become amateurish and rather over-the-top. In particular, Hugo Armstrong and Nicholas Brendon are prime offenders as Hugh and Mike, respectively. Armstrong never really comes across as anything more than shouty and blustery, which strips any nuance from his character and makes him seem like a particularly obnoxious plot contrivance. Brendon is also over-the-top but I lay quite a bit of the blame for that at Byrkit’s feet: as written, the character of Mike is a complete mess and serves only to add unnecessary melodrama to scenes that don’t need it. His constant kvetching about his drinking gets old fast and I could never fully understand his motivations.

On the plus side, Emily Foxler is quite good as Em and provides a fairly well-rounded protagonist. She’s likable, which certainly helped in a film where the characters often seemed self-absorbed to the point of stage-bound artificiality. Maury Sterling was also consistently good as Em’s boyfriend, Kevin: the two actors had good chemistry together and Sterling was always an interesting performer to watch. Elizabeth Gracen’s performance as Beth could tend towards the OTT, ala Armstrong’s, but I chalked a bit of that up to story issues: she did some nice, subtle work, at times,  and I bought her relationship with Hugh part and parcel. For their parts, Scafaria, Manugian and Maher give good performances but don’t do much to stand out, although Manugian’s Amir does make a fairly ridiculous “bad boy.”

For the most part, I enjoyed Coherence: the film could be rough, at times (the lighting, in particular, was always rather flat and ugly), and it always felt like a few too many ideas were being stuffed into too small a space but there was no shortage of ambition here and many of the film’s concepts were the kind of next-level clever that you just don’t see in many films. While I ended up liking +1 just a little more (there’s something about that film’s gonzo pool-house siege scene that will forever reserve it a place in my heart), I will admit nothing but admiration for Byrkit’s debut. When it’s good, it’s subtly mind-blowing and is never anything less than completely thought-provoking. I, for one, will be eagerly awaiting Byrkit’s next film: if he can keep improving on the formula established here and tighten up the filmmaking, I have a feeling that he’ll be bending the fabric of space and time before we know it.

 

11/5/14: The One With the Pulp

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Adam Brody, adult children, adult friendships, Alia Shawkat, Allison Janney, Catherine Keener, cinema, co-writers, dramas, dramedy, estranged family, film reviews, films, friends, Hugh Laurie, Ian Helfer, infidelity, Jay Reiss, Julian Farino, Leighton Meester, male friendships, middle age, midlife crisis, Movies, Oliver Platt, romance, Sam Rosen, set during the holidays, suburban homes, The Oranges, troubled marriages, voice-over narration

While the “May-October” relationship between twenty-something-year old Nina (Leighton Meester) and fifty-something-year old David (Hugh Laurie) may be at the center of director Julian Farino’s The Oranges (2011), the “bromance” between David and next-door-neighbor/Nina’s father, Terry (Oliver Platt) is really the heart of the film. David and Terry, along with their respective families, are the kinds of neighbors that only seem to exist in cinematic versions of the real worlds, life-long friends who are close as kin and connected at the hip. This sense of unity is shattered as David’s family tries to come to terms with his infidelity and Nina’s family tries to come to terms with the fact that their beloved, if wayward, daughter is romantically involved with their middle-aged best friend. Bonds will be tested, relationships will fray and lots of life lessons will be learned: welcome to the “dramedy” as filtered through an after-school special.

Named after West Orange, New Jersey, The Oranges is anchored by the nearly constant voice-over presence of Vanessa (Alia Shawkat), David and Paige’s (Catherine Keener) daughter. Vanessa and Nina used to be as inseparable as their respective parents until Nina left Vanessa behind for the “cool kids” in high school, wedging a divide between the two that continues into the present. Vanessa is a rather aimless individual: she always wanted to be a designer but ends up working at Ikea, which is “close enough.”

Vanessa and her family’s lives are thrown into turmoil when Nina suddenly reappears after five years away from home. She’s just walked in on her fiancée, Ethan (Sam Rosen), with his tongue down someone else’s throat and has come back home to pull herself back together. Once home, Nina’s pushy mother, Cathy (Allison Janney), “encourages” her to go out with David and Paige’s son, Toby (Adam Brody), home for the holidays before heading to China for his job. When Toby has a little too much Christmas cheer, however, Nina ends up hanging out with David in his “man-cave” and watching TV. Turns out that David and Paige are kind of on the rocks right now: he’s been sleeping on the couch and she’s been throwing herself into her choir group with the kind of zeal normally reserved for hoarding animals. Before you can say, “Uh oh,” David and Nina have shared an illicit kiss, which blossoms into a full-blown love affair.

Once the affair hits the bright light of public opinion, however, things start to go rapidly downhill: Terry takes a swing at David, Vanessa calls her former friend a “slut” and blames her for breaking up her parents and Cathy pointedly asks her daughter if she enjoys “sucking on David’s old balls.” David and Nina are determined to make their relationship work, however, regardless of how it affects those around them. Just when Terry seems to be thawing a little, however, Ethan shows up on their doorstep, bound and determined to win Nina back: looks like everybody, especially the “adults,” are going to have a lot of growing up to do.

For the most part, The Oranges is a pretty by-the-book, formulaic “family in crisis” film, albeit one that hedges more on the side of the serious rather than the humorous: this is a “dramedy” where the comedy aspect is more ironic than anything else. With that being said, the film is blessed with a truly great cast doing great work: at times, this is enough to elevate the rather tired material, although there’s always an unfortunate “been there, done that” feel to everything. Keener, as always, is a master of the slow burn and her eventual breakdown is a textbook example of how to lash out while still keeping the audience firmly on one’s side. Shawkat, such a stand-out in Arrested Development, shows a serious side to her performance that’s rather bracing: there’s real pain and anger in her interactions with her father that are almost difficult to watch, at times. Janney gives another sturdy performance, with the highlight being the scene where she, literally, bumps into David and Nina at a no-tell motel. Meester, for her part, plays Nina as a flighty, impetuous and eminently selfish creature, so wrapped up in her own needs and wants that she doesn’t take any time whatsoever to consider those around her. It’s a rather unpleasant character, to be honest, and the filmmakers do nothing particular to sand off her rough edges: by the time Nina has completed her character arc, she’s the furthest thing from a sympathetic character but she certainly feels like a real person.

Without a doubt, however, The Oranges belongs to Hugh Laurie and Oliver Platt: their relationship is the true center of the film and provides the movies with the majority of its big emotional beats. In fact, the scene where the former friends finally stop and say hi to each other, in passing, is so impossibly sad and lovely that it handily eclipses any of the similar scenes between Nina and David or Nina and Ethan: this is a romance, true, but it’s not the one that folks might be expecting. There’s a breezy quality to Laurie and Platt’s interactions that feels 100% genuine, even in the more awkward, uncomfortable moments: this feels like how real people might handle this situation, warts and all.

Ultimately, The Oranges is a well-made, if exceedingly familiar, production: while the film breaks no new ground and feels remarkably free of real tension and conflict, the acting is superb and the movie is quick-paced and a pleasant-enough watch. More than anything, however, watching The Oranges brings up a very important question: why the hell hasn’t Hugh Laurie done more work like this? He brings a real sense of nuance and subtlety to his performance that’s light-years from anything he did on either Jeeves and Wooster or House. We need more Hugh Laurie, no two ways about it: The Oranges might not blow anyone away but it gives us that fix and that’s going to have to be good enough for the time being.