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John Curran's We Don't Live Here Anymore netted screenwriter Larry Gross the
prestigious Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award at the Sundance Film Festival
earlier this year. Anymore is based on a pair of short stories from Andre
Dubus, who you may remember as the source of such melodrama as In the
Bedroom (as well as spawning the equally morose Andre Dubus III, author of
House of Sand and Fog). Needless to say, if you're looking for some light
laughs while your Manicotti Formaggio from Olive Garden digests, you're
probably going to have to search elsewhere.
There's a popular belief that people are suffering mid-life crises at
earlier ages these days, and Anymore puts that theory to work as it shows
what should ultimately be the last act of a pair of seemingly doomed
marriages (like any good, non-cookie cutter film, it doesn't offer any
closure, which helps add to the overall gloominess of the proceedings).
Jack (Mark Ruffalo, Collateral) and Hank (Peter Krause, Six Feet Under) are
best friends who are also both scruffy English professors at a small New
England college. Each is married with young children, and they both look
forward to their regular runs through the majestic scenery of their small
town.
The similarities end there, however. Hank lives in a clean, bright house
with a perfect wife named Edith (Naomi Watts, 21 Grams) and his well-behaved
daughter. He doesn't smoke, he stretches before he jogs, and he's more than
happy to work during the summer, which keeps his family free from worries
about money. Conversely, Jack's home, which is shared with wife Terry
(Laura Dern, I Am Sam), is full of dark wood and is perpetually messy. His
kids are screaming monsters, and Terry does her fair share of shrieking, as
well: Money, parenting, and a dwindling quality in the bullshit excuses Jack
concocts to slip away and bang Hank's wife. When confronted, Jack lashes
out with sarcasm and accusations, which only makes it easier for Terry to
think about the passes Hank continually makes at her. Who's Afraid of
Virginia Woolf? Uhh, beats me.
I thought Gross's script was the weakest past of Anymore, but was slightly
more intrigued by it hours later, when I began thinking about how different
viewers might identify with different characters and, therefore, be able to
cull different things from the film. While I was watching it, I assumed
Anymore was being told from the point of view of the two men, particularly
Jack (we get to hear his thoughts twice, for some reason). But that might
mean I simply identified with his situation more than the other three
players. I don't know - see it for yourself and let me know what you think.
I'm still kind of scratching my head about the guy who wrote True Crime,
Prozac Nation and Chinese Box winning the same screenwriting award bestowed
upon The Station Agent, Memento and You Can Count on Me.
Curran's direction is far stronger than Anymore's writing (though it was
topped by the four blistering lead performances). He leaves the film
dripping with enough dread and doom to make you think somebody was going to
get hit by a train, or fall off of a cliff, or get gunned down in some
convenience store robbery. Curran purposefully saps the Jack-Edith tryst of
any sexual chemistry, and constantly mixes up sound, images and the picture'
s moody score in a thought-provoking style.
========== X-RAMR-ID: 38452 X-Language: en X-RT-ReviewID: 1308725 X-RT-TitleID: 1134704 X-RT-SourceID: 595 X-RT-AuthorID: 1146 X-RT-RatingText: 7/10
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