Motherhood is no picnic in ‘Nightbitch’

  Judging by its title, you’d half expect Nightbitch to revolve around a woman gangster who terrorizes her male counterparts with cunning and fury. 

  Director Marielle Heller takes a different tack, directing Amy Adams in what seems intended as an archly comic  look at a woman who realizes that four years of unrelieved motherhood is pinching the life out of her.  

   Her career as an artist? Lost? Sleep? Gone. Sanity? Almost drained. Help from her husband? There's not much of that either. 

  Scoot McNairy plays the clueless husband who travels a lot for business. He's not an ogre, just an average guy who has no idea about the amount of work it takes to be a mom. Additionally, he deludes himself about how much he shares the load.

   As part of her numbing routine, Adam's character also meets with other suburban moms (Zoe Chao, Archana Rajan, and Mary Holland). They gather for story hours for toddlers at the local library. Adams’s character initially disdains what she views as their mindless child-centered lives, but she eventually learns that her compatriots share similar frustrations.

   Is there a way out of this trap? Known only as "Mother,'' Adams' character asks the local librarian (Jessica Harper) to recommend books about magical transformations. Mother's request is prompted by her belief that she's transforming into a dog, a four-legged creature that runs free at night in the company of other dogs.

    And, yes, the movie takes this metaphor literally. Mother's physical transformation begins roughly midway through. Mother notices whiskers and fur growing on her body. Her full dip into doghood requires an effects boost.

    As Mother discovers her inner animal, she also remembers her relationship with her mother, a preview of coming attractions when viewed in retrospect. 

    Based on a novel by Rachel Yoder, Nightbitch isn't subtle -- no need for that when dealing with simmering rage, but the set-up is amusing, and Adams, who put on weight and shed make-up for the role, givers her performance some bite.

    Too bad the movie concludes with a copout that comes close to undermining the story that precedes it. Before her movie's done, Heller files away the movie's sharpest edges, sending us out of the theater disappointed rather than stimulated by the story's satirical sting.

A far-fetched but likable romance

 

    Many movies begin with a contrivance and some are impossible without them.

    That might be the case with Long Weekend, a romance about a young writer who meets a woman named Vienna and falls madly in love with her. She reciprocates. 

    Of course, there’s a catch. The young woman reveals little about herself until she offers an explanation that stands as the movie's central conceit. I won't reveal it here.

    Writer/director Steve Basilone had an opportunity to play with reality, perception, and perhaps even the power of wishful delusion.  Instead, Basilone opted simply to move ahead with a romantic comedy — an approach that may account for both the movie’s strengths and its weaknesses.

   Long Weekend doesn’t ask us to spend much time wondering whether Bart  (Finn  Wittrock) is having a real experience or whether a fantasy lover has sprung from Bart’s recent emotional wounds.

  Bart’s Mom recently died. He still hasn’t recovered from a recent break-up. He also may be suffering from a serious health problem — judging by the many calls he receives from his doctor. He ignores them.

    A movie such as Long Weekend  relies heavily on its actors. We must enjoy spending time with the characters they create, at least enough to forget about the many ways in which the movie willingly challenges credibility.

    Wittrock has soap-opera handsomeness and earnestness and Zoe Chao, the movie's real star, brings enough eccentric charm to her portrayal of Vienna to keep the movie watchable. 

    Damon Wayans and Casey Wilson add flavor as Bart's best friends, a couple that invites him to move into their garage when he (an aspiring novelist) runs out of money.

   Scenes depicting the brief but intense encounter between Bart and Vienna are easy to take, although they mostly stick to the surface.

   I suppose there may be a bit of underlying reality here: It’s probably true that every love affair begins with many unknowns and some unknowables. Love, after all, requires a leap of faith.

    Basilone creates a mostly likable romance that can't cross the finish line while keeping its many contrivances from spawning even more contrivances. When it concludes by focusing on Bart, the least interesting of the romantic duo, the story goes flat.

      For all that, Long Weekend remains an easy-going attempt to freshen romcom formula that’s best when it relies on the oldest of values, Chao’s lively appeal. 

     

It’s all ‘Downhill’ from here

Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Will Ferrell star in an American remake of a much better Swedish movie.

What didn’t make sense in 2014’s Force Majeure, a film from Swedish director Ruben Ostlund, makes even less sense in Downhill, an American remake starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Will Ferrell. Though still set in Europe, this American version suffers from one of the worst things that can happen to a film: indecision about what it wants to be.

Hovering in limbo between comedy and drama, Downhill won't be helped by audience expectations. Both Louis-Dreyfus and Ferrell are gifted comic actors and you can’t fault an audience for expecting some major laughs, particularly when the film’s trailer plays up moments that can be read as comedy.

At heart, though, Force Majeure was a film about a failing marriage. It explored issues of manhood and fatherhood and tried to understand the mentality of a middle-aged man who was drifting away from his wife and two children. That movie’s darkly comic elements have absorbed too much sunlight in this meager translation. Though brightened, the comic moments feel as slushy as melting snow.

The dynamic of a troubled marriage remains in directors Nat Faxon and Jim Rash’s version of the film, but it has lost the subtle flavors that helped elevate Force Majeure.

As with the original, the story revolves around a pivotal event. Louis-Dreyfus’ Billie and Ferrell’s Pete are the mother and father of an American family that has traveled to Europe to ski and regroup.

On a break from the slopes, Billie and Pete are having lunch with their two young sons (Julian Grey and Ammon Jacob Ford). An explosion is heard in the distance. A controlled avalanche has been set off, not an unusual occurrence at ski resorts.

Suddenly, though, a large cloud of snow descends on the restaurant. It doesn’t look as if it's going to stop. Those dining on the outdoor deck where the family is eating scream in panic. Ferrell’s Pete grabs his phone and runs, leaving his family behind.

As it turns out, everyone’s safe but major questions linger. Why did Pete run? What did his flight mean? Can his marriage survive this act of cowardice? Should it?

Initially, Pete tries to downplay his behavior. Everyone’s fine. What’s the big deal?

The growing tension between Billie and Pete proves as annoying as it is revealing with Louis-Dreyfus drawing sharper lines than Ferrell, whose character often seems a trifle pathetic. The fact that Ferrell is considerably taller than Louis-Dreyfuss creates a kind of jarring visual contrast that doesn’t help, either.

The story introduces a few supporting characters. Zach Woods and Zoe Chao play a touring couple. Pete knows Woods' character from the States. Eager to escape the routine of a family trip, Pete asks the couple to visit. The blind-sided Billie doesn't want company. She views the trip as an opportunity for the family to renew bonds that were fraying in the wake of Pete's grief over his father's recent death.

Miranda Otto shows up as a concierge, an out-sized bombshell of a character who espouses sexual freedom; Otto's Charlotte splashes through the movie like a tipped-over can of paint.

Individually, Louis-Dreyfus and Ferrell do some interesting things, but both struggle to find the right rhythm for material that’s not sure whether to go for laughs or dive into the messy world of a foundering marriage. Not surprisingly, Downhill doesn't do much of either.