Okay, here's the deal. I usually try to stay quiet when people start the old argument that there aren't enough strong roles for women in Hollywood. I'd be the first to agree that most of the roles offered to women are, more often than not, pretty skinny. Dancing on the tightrope of sexism, I'll even go so far to say that, by and large, the role of women in most movies these days is mainly decoration. But the argument that there are not enough strong roles for women is ridiculous. The argument should be that there aren't enough strong actresses in Hollywood.
I can almost hear the chirping of the crickets as the silence from the females out there becomes pungent. No, ladies, I'm not making a gross generalization. Think about the women out there right now, all holding the title of "star." Compare them to the grand dames of Tinseltown, and you've got a pale bunch indeed. Remember, now, I am speaking of strength of talent and characterization. You cannot sit there and tell me that Sharon Stone, Demi Moore, Whoopi Goldberg, and the like are dripping with mondo acting chops. Who knows when you're gonna get a decent role out of Miss Demi anymore? GI Jane hardly cancels out The Scarlet Letter and Striptease. It's hard to claim you're not a bimbo in one breath, and then accept $12 million to flash your Tupperware. Whoopi has three Jumping Jack Flashes and Boguses for every Stella and Color Purple. Stone? Casino proved she could act some, but how does she follow that up? By not making another movie for two years. Nice plan, Sharon. I grant you, these three are not the only ones dancing through the day, but they prove my thinking.
You used to be able to count on Diane Keaton and Jessica Lange for some solid acting, but, here lately, both of them are riding the kiddy rollercoaster from warm to cold. The thinking is that Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock might hit some grand slams someday, but we're still in the early innings. Meg Ryan is finally getting some rep as a dependable talent, after punching her way out of the fluff roles. Jennifer Jason Leigh bounces from strange to independent film queen and back like a Pong game on a black and white TV. On occasion, we'll get a peep-worthy performance from Julia, Bette, or Goldie. But hardly would I universally hail these these ladies as strong actors.
Nope, folks, the only actress you can depend on time and time again to give you a quality performance, no matter what, is Meryl Streep. Meryl has proven that she can do virtually anything and play anything, no matter how harrowing the character. I'll save you the resume, but just think back and you'll see nothing but quality. (And, before you start, don't give me the She-Devil argument; I blame that one on Rosanne.) From divorced mother to Holocaust victim to whitewater river wrangler to undead zombie, Meryl's made the utmost out of her career. Accents or not, she has a way onscreen that becomes positively mesmerizing, and that, more than any other point, is what makes a "star" an "actress.
Her latest effort, One True Thing, is out now, co-starring Renee Zellweger and William Hurt, and, while it's not exactly a perfect film, by any stretch, it offers another fine performance by Meryl, as well as a whole new side to the Miss Renee we've grown to know and love.
Zellweger plays Ellen Gulden, a journalist who's driven to the point of breaking by her desire to get "the story," whatever the story is. She's the complete antithesis of her mother, Kate (Streep), a career homemaker who always manages to see the silver lining, no matter how dark the cloud. The two are brought back together, estranged for years, when Kate is diagnosed with cancer. Ellen's father (Hurt) is a driven college professor, more taken with the written word than with his family, leaving Kate's caretaking to Ellen.
Confession time: I went into this expecting a major tearjerk. And, truthfully, the plot steers towards that. The strange thing is, though, director Carl Franklin never lets it get there. We're offered the story of a Martha Stewart devotee mother, who's slowly wasting away, and her workaholic daughter, brought together to resolve their differences and appreciate each other. Heart-wrenching stuff, on paper, but, onscreen, it just gets a powder-puff treatment. It's almost as if Karen Croner, the scripter here, didn't want to face the difficulties of writing highly emotional dialogue, so she covered most of the feeling in stereotypical sassiness and padded tragic pictures. Instead of playing the heartstrings, Croner and Franklin mute the emotional energy, leaving the film to limp to conclusion.
That being said, this is Meryl and Miss Renee's movie. Meryl takes an stock character and paints her with multiple coats of depth, and, as Kate weakens with her illness, so does her strong "happy homemaker" gloss, leaving a woman, afraid and pained, trying to come to grips with death. Renee is the storyteller, of sorts, but she's quickly overshadowed by Streep. Zellweger is an equal in many ways, but her young talent is no match for Streep's mastery.
It's just a shame that somebody somewhere didn't notice that, somewhere, they lost the heart of the movie in the fight to keep it "light." I won't hesitate to predict that Meryl will get some Oscar notice, and I wouldn't bet against Zellweger, either. But -- and this "but" is as big as my Aunt Bertha's -- any recognition they get will be for their singular performances. This movie itself will not score any big awards, because it is, at best, a pale imitation of the best of the best.
If you're in the mood to see one of the best strut her stuff, go see One True Thing. If you're looking for a fantastic tear-jerker to stoke your emotional fires, though, you might want to keep on looking, 'cause this ain't it.
Image copyright Universal Pictures.
|
in for observation