Never Again (2002)
The first Eric Schaeffer movie to not star nor be about Eric Schaeffer, which automatically makes it twenty times better than his other films. He's still the one holding the pen, though, so don't get your hopes up. This one's doubly sad because there's actually several well-observed moments; Jill Clayburgh and Jeffery Tambor turn in affecting performances, and they're helped out by some quiet scenes that rank as possibly the only good work Schaeffer's ever done. Shame then that the au-toooer's vision has to betray them. Eric still labors under the mistaken assumption that sex automatically equals high comedy, and the more perverse the sex the funnier the joke. So in the midst of this promising film about two damaged people learning to love and trust each other, we get mortifying scenes like the one that requires Clayburgh to run around in a strap-on and S&M hood and the one where Tambor has to rebuff an amorous she-male (played, for some reason, by a slumming Michael McKean). Nor has Schaeffer totally gotten past his bad-sitcom ideas of how people act; if I were to explain exactly why Clayburgh is wandering around in a suit of armor at film's end, we'd be here all night. It's progress, yes, but it still sucks.
Grade: C-
The first Eric Schaeffer movie to not star nor be about Eric Schaeffer, which automatically makes it twenty times better than his other films. He's still the one holding the pen, though, so don't get your hopes up. This one's doubly sad because there's actually several well-observed moments; Jill Clayburgh and Jeffery Tambor turn in affecting performances, and they're helped out by some quiet scenes that rank as possibly the only good work Schaeffer's ever done. Shame then that the au-toooer's vision has to betray them. Eric still labors under the mistaken assumption that sex automatically equals high comedy, and the more perverse the sex the funnier the joke. So in the midst of this promising film about two damaged people learning to love and trust each other, we get mortifying scenes like the one that requires Clayburgh to run around in a strap-on and S&M hood and the one where Tambor has to rebuff an amorous she-male (played, for some reason, by a slumming Michael McKean). Nor has Schaeffer totally gotten past his bad-sitcom ideas of how people act; if I were to explain exactly why Clayburgh is wandering around in a suit of armor at film's end, we'd be here all night. It's progress, yes, but it still sucks.
Grade: C-
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home