Boxoffice-June.1991

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TRULY, MADLY, DEEPLY
Starring Juliet Stevenson, Alan Rickman, Bill Paterson and
Michael Maloney.
Produced by Robert Cooper. Written and Directed by Anthony
Minghella.
A Samuel Goldwyn Company release. Drama, not rated Running
time: 107 minutes. Screening date: 4/3/91
This smart British import is a quiet, adult love story that
while it will hardly break records or break hearts will nevertheless
leave its audiences with a few good moments of
warm recognition. Director Anthony Minghella has paced his
film slowly, allowing us a long draw— perhaps for some, a
long sigh—before we can really come to identify or feel simpatico
with the characters in this story. This feels burdensome
during the first half of "Truly, Madly, Deeply," yet by the
film's conclusion this pacing also serves to allow us a deeper
relationship with these characters simply because we've been
with them for so long.
Juliet Stevenson is Nina, a woman—thirtysomething— still
grieving over the death of her lover, Jamie (Alan Rickman).
She has other suitors but is oblivious to anything other than
her own grief We see her talking to her therapist, we see her
going through the motions of her job, and more than anything
we see her learning to cope with the loneliness of living in her
now empty flat that still bears all the paraphernalia of Jamie's
life. Nina just cannot bear to think of anyone but Jamie
better put, she cannot bear to think of anyone other than
herself and her grief for the lost Jamie, It is here that— still
within the film's first half— there are problems feeling interested
in Nina's malaise. This is not because it's difficult to
identify with her situation; it's because Nina is so closed off
behind her grief that she isn't terribly interesting to us.
Enter Jaime, the lost lover. One day Nina sits playing the
piano and, turning around, finds Jaime sitting behind her playing
his cello. Is he imagined? Is this the British equivalent
of last year's "Ghost?" Some of both. Metaphorically—even
psychologically—speaking, Nina has manifested her lover's
ghost as a way to come to terms with his death. For the next
several weeks Jaime and Nina take up residence in their
lost love affair. He is real enough to fill the emotional gap in
her life.
Yet as time passes, Nina makes her transition and moves
toward the future. In this way Jaime becomes more a burden
than a blessing. His life— their life together— exists in the past
tense soon enough as Nina meets another man and, after a
good deal of conflict, realizes that it's time for her to move on
with her life. It is only now, after touching her love for her
husband, thus being able to respond to love that is waiting for
her, that Nina becomes full-blown enough to hold our interest.
In her quiet way—in the quiet way of this film— Nina's transition
is heartwarming and "Truly, Madly, Deeply" becomes
at last a film that leaves its imprint. Its story is not unique, yet
its means of telling this story is quite moving.
Not rated, not offensive. Marilyn Moss
EATING
Starring Nelly Alard, Frances Bergen, Mary Crosby, Lisa Richards
and Gwen Welles.
Produced by Judith Wolinsky Written and directed by Henry
Jaglom
A Rainbow release Comedy, rated R Running time: 110 mm
Screening date: 4/3/91
Watching Henry Jaglom's new film, "Eating," is like going
to a meeting of Overeaters Anonymous. This very serious
comedy has a few good laughs, but for the most part it is a
depressing exploration of cultural neurosis.
A more polished production than Jaglom's earlier work,
"Eating" still
has the jumbled quality of home movies. Not a
single man appears before the camera, but men figure prominently
in the psyches of the 38 women who do grace the
screen and assemble in a sprawling Victorian house to celebrate
the birthdays of three of them: Kate (Mary Crosby,
daughter of Bing Crosby), age 30, Helene (Lisa Richards), age
40 and Sadie (Marlena GioviJ, age 50.
The episodic story takes place in a single day. There's not
much in the way of a plot, other than Helene's being told that
her husband has been having an affair. But there're lots of
talking heads. The women offer both one-liners and heart-felt
opinions on such issues as modem romance, marriage, abortion
and sibling rivalry. They seem to share an enthusiasm for
New Age gimmicks such as the Tarot and crystals—which
Jaglom broadly satirizes. But more than anything else, their
issue is food.
When the birthday cake is cut and pieces are being passed
around, not one woman will take a bite. This is duly recorded
by Martine (Nelly Alard), Helene's Parisian houseguest, who's
making a documentary for French television on what she
describes as "Southern California Behavior."
An actor's director, Jaglom gets has cast to improvise as
each actor attempts to work through intimate issues about
food and the literal and figurative forms of hunger, nourishment
and fulfillment. In the editing room, he puts these
lengthy female monologues through a figurative food processor.
He cuts so quickly from one woman to another that it
my frustrate some viewers who might want to hear out the
original speaker. The effect of all this editing is that the
women blur, and the implication is that every woman is fearful
that she is too big and obsessed with changing her appearance.
Of the large ensemble, only Frances Bergen stands out.
As Helene's mother, she dramatizes how attitudes are passed
from generation to generation.
Because of its subject matter, "Eating" will probably find a
broader audience than Jaglom's earlier films ("Always," "New
Year's Day" and "Someone to Love"). It is apt to evoke a
strong reaction in audiences, as it touches on some very sensitive
points. From overeaters to anorexics, women are bound to
see much in this film that is fainiliar. If it were not presented
with so much candor, humor and affection, it might spark
riots.
Rated R for partial nudity and for language.
—
Karen Kreps
BLOOD AND CONCRETE — A LOVE
STORY
Starring Billy Zane, Jennifer Beals and Darren McGavin.
Produced by Richard LaBne Written by Jeffrey Reiner and
Richard LaBrie Directed by Jeffrey Reiner
An IRS Media release Comedy-drama, rated R Running
time: 99 min Screening date: 4/23/91
"Blood and Concrete" is a screwball comedy for the 90s, an
utterly whacked-out romp through Los Angeles where antihero
meets villain and rock music meets the straight and narrow.
Woven through all this craziness are some great performances
and a story that, while faithful in spirit to B pictures of
the 50s, brings an original blast to the scenario. Reiner's direction
is more than fresh; it's masterfully original. This is a film
that is sitting on the edge of mainstream theatrics but knocking
hard to get in.
In the seediest streets of Hollywood there is a mythical drug
floating around: it's called "LBD" ("Libido" of course), and it's
an aphrodisiac that everybody wants. Thugs make a living oflf
of it and rock musicians and their babes pop it without knowing
why, except that it makes them feel good. Into this maze
of selling and pushing walks Joey Turk (Billy Zane), a smalltime
car thief who wants little other than to give up crime and
high tail it out of town. But Joey, for the moment, is bleeding
after being stabbed by another small-time hood named Mort.
Taking refuge at a cemetery, Joey meets Mona (Jennifer
Beals), a suicidal cabaret singer who takes him back to her
apartment and cleans his wounds. Sleeping on her sofa during
the night, Joey is seduced by Mona and thus begins a love
affair that has more dips and bends then an LA. side street.
Joey is in trouble, and it's not just his love bites. It seems
that the thuggiest gangster-boss in Hollywood, the dim-witted
Spuntz (Nicholas Worth), wants the LbD and thinks that
Joey's got it. So, along with his psychotic sidekick/lover-dude,
Bart (Mark Pellegrino), Spuntz terrorizes Joey into spilling the
beans about the wanted "Libido." Joey is saved now and then
from Spuntz—or at least given a moment to breathe—because
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