It Ends with Us: Non-matching Halves

 

 

 

It Ends with Us (2023)

Directed by Justin Baldoni

Sony Pictures Releasing, 131 minutes, PG-13 (Domestic violence)

★★★

 

I suspect most of you are quite aware of the controversy/counter lawsuits swirling around It Ends with Us. In fact, I imagine most of you know more about than I. Squabbles, scandals, and outlandish accusations are so common in Hollywood that I stopped paying much attention to them years ago. I will concentrate on the movie, though I am aware of the unresolved sexual harassment charge leveled against director/lead actor Justin Baldoni by leading lady Blake Lively.

 

I found the movie worthwhile, but very uneven. It’s billed as a romantic drama, but that’s not quite correct. It’s actually a  two-halves film, the first of which is a romance and the second half a drama. We meet young Lily Bloom (Isabela Ferrer) in Maine at her father’s funeral. She is supposed to say five good things about her father but can’t think of even one and walks away. We later learn that he routinely beat his wife Jenny (Amy Morton) and almost killed her homeless boyfriend Atlas Corrigan (Alex Neustaedter as young Atlas) when he caught them in bed. Yes, I said homeless. She used to sneak food and her father’s castoff clothes to him and they became sweethearts, despite the humiliation thrown her way by her high school classmates.

 

Years later, Lily (then played by Blake Lively) is living in New York City and seeking to follow her dream of opening a flower shop. We find her sitting on a rooftop ledge when a young man arrives and begins kicking the patio furniture. He is Ryle Kincaid (Baldoni), a neurosurgeon who has just lost a six-year-old patient. He and Lily D flirt before Lily abruptly lowers the temperature and leaves without giving out her contact info. As she is cleaning out the building where her shop will be, Lily meets and hires Allysa (Jenny Slate). Later she meets Allysa’s husband, Marshall (Hasan Minhaj) and later still, his brother, Ryle. What are the odds? 1:8.5 million actually, but why quibble? Eventually Lily and Ryle become an item and elope. What could go wrong? Though he has a perpetual five o’clock shadow that miraculously remains the same, they seem to be simpatico, have oodles of money, and hang out with Allysa and Marshall. All is well until they book a table at a “hot” restaurant named Roots. The owner is none other than Atlas (Brandon Skelnar), all grown up and with a neat beard.

 

This part of the film is kissy-kissy, occasionally funny, and plants seeds for trouble as Lily has never really gotten over Atlas. It must be said that the dialogue is on the clunky side, It’s sort of like When Harry Met Sally stripped of sharp writing and cleverness. It opens the door for jealousy, misplaced machoism, and psychological unraveling. We know that Ryle is wound pretty tightly and is prone to egoism. Atlas is protective and kind, but also has a fuse that’s not hard to light. In such situations, innocent things can be akin to igniting a candle with a blowtorch. Call this the serious part of the movie.

 

This becomes a problem. Baldoni and Lively are good when the movie is frothy and cute. Alas, though the movie is stronger when it turns serious–and Christy Hall’s screenplay becomes sharper­–the actors lack gravitas. Skelnar is like a dog unsure who he is supposed to protect, Slate loses her sass to play the role of best friend, Baldoni is a one-dimensional jerk, and Lively is unconvincing as a woman torn in two directions. What we have is a first half so cliched that I almost turned it off and a second half that seems duct-taped onto the first. Likewise, though the lighter part of the film is more poorly written it’s better for the principals (and vice versa).

 

It Ends with Us was based on a novel by Colleen Hoover who writes for mass audiences. The film is much the same way. It got mixed reviews but pulled in big bucks at the box office. Add my mixed review to the pile. Hoover wrote a sequel titled It Begins with Us. You have to wonder how outraged Baldoni and Lively are, as they are considering a sequel with Lively directing. I’m pretty sure we don’t need such a film.

 

Rob Weir   

Frigg: From Finland to You

 

Frigg

Dreamscapes

 

For many years I wrote Celtic and folk music reviews for SingOut! Magazine. I don’t recall exactly when it was, but the editor asked me what I knew about Scandinavian music. It wasn’t much, but I put myself on a crash course and before long I was one of the go-to reviewers for all things Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, and Finnish. One of the bands I wrote about was Frigg from Finland. 

 

Frigg

 

The band’s name pays homage to Norse goddess of marriage, prophecy, and motherhood. In some old Germanic languages her name is spelled Fría or Frí, which gives us the word Friday. As for the band, in their earliest days they played lots of reworked folk songs and traditional tunes. They still play some, but they are now in their 25^th year and, after expected lineup changes, they’ve spread their wings, write a lot of their own material, and have picked up influences from Americana and bluegrass music–not that you’d necessarily recognize them filtered through a Finnish lens. I liked Frigg back then and I like them now. A few weeks ago they played a show I caught in Whately, which is where I picked up Dreamscapes, the band’s tenth album. It is, as its title suggests, a concept album, a series of day dreams, musings on Finnish culture, and a splash of mysticism analogous to Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s Night Dream.  

 

“Troll’s Twilight” is an example of Scandinavian mythology. The liner notes advise, “When trolls take the lead in the waltz, you can never be certain what’s real and what’s mere illusion.” In Finnish folklore, troll can sometimes appear in human form, but mostly they are big, dumb, and ugly, but also magical, mean, and definitely not Christian. The live in isolated places, but the best advice is avoid them at all costs. Like vampires they do their worst when the sun sets; sunlight can turn them into stone, hence many land  and features are said to be petrified trolls. No wonder that the tune is a combination of ominous and wild dance.

 

By contrast, “Valsette” embodies the promise of spring, with three fiddles and bass invoking the flight of honeybees returning. It also showcases the band’s balance and timing on a tune that could otherwise drift into cacophony. A lot of Frigg’s music is danceable, but look out for correct spelling. A polksa isn’t the same as a polka. The latter is a Czech and Polish dance in 2/4 where a polska is in ¾ time and often has pauses. “Alarm Polska” is an example of how Scandinavians (and Scots) often prefer things in ¾ timing. The structure might seem similar to Irish jigs, except the latter are generally in 6/8 timing. Notice, though, the lighter middle section and coda of “Alarm Polska.” Most of the selections on Dreamscapes have a link to dance. “Vastkusten Twist” borrows from an old minuet, “Vittra” is a square dance, and there is another polska and a different waltz. The best way to appreciate Frigg is see them live. Here's a clip of “Norrsken” (not on the current album) that captures their energy and freewheeling innovation on the stage. Not all of the current members of Frigg are on the current tour, but as you can see from the picture I took in Whately, there’s no shortage of talent that can step in when needed. 

 

Frigg on Stage in Whately, MA

 

 

Rob Weir

 

 

 

 

The Taste of Things a Visual Delight

 

 

 

The Taste of Things  (2023)

Directed by Trân Anh Hùng

Gaumont, 134 minutes, PG-13 (brief nudity)

★★★

 

Is The Taste of Things a drama, a romance, or food porn? It is certainly channels the latter and, if you’re patient, has quiet aspects of drama and passion. If you hit the fridge while watching–and your tastebuds will undoubtedly kick into overdrive– make sure you have a better class of munchies on hand. This a film akin to Babette’s Feast or Big Night in that its major theme is food beyond your wildest dreams. As for the story, I wish director Trân Anh Hùng had offered more sauce to marinate his characters in a richer narrative broth.

 

The year is 1889* and we see Eugénie (Juliette Binoche) and Dodin Bouffant (Benoît Magimel) at work in a country kitchen amidst a farrago of copper pots, flames, steam, and comestibles in various states of preparation. They are joined by Eugénie’s young assistant Violette and a visiting child prodigy Pauline, who can taste a complex a complex sauce and identify each of its ingredients. It is nearly impossible to describe all of the delicacies the four fry, bake, boil, sauté, and marinate. I will say that they use enough butter, cream, and fatty ingredients to make your cholesterol levels double just by watching.

 

It takes time and context to infer the relationships. Dodin is the owner of an estate and a gourmand; Eugénie is his personal chef and longtime lover. It helps a bit to know that Dodin’s surname, though mostly used to describe a hairstyle, can also mean fullness or chowing down. Does the trim Dodin eat like this every day? Not quite. As we discover, he holds periodic gatherings for a group of friends who come to praise Eugénie’s culinary magic, discuss food, and engage in manly gossip. Several of his guests have recently dined with an unnamed visiting prince, an eight-hour ordeal of many courses, each accompanied by pairing alcoholic beverages. Dodin is anxious to hear their impression and takes delight in learning that it was ostentatious and “clashing.” In other words, Eugénie’s reputation is safe; so much so that Dodin plans to invite the prince for a meal of pot au feu. This is a bold and risky idea; a pot au feu is a simple stew of meat and vegetables usually considered peasant food. Dodin is certain that Eugénie’s unpretentious fare will surpass the elaborate efforts of the prince’s chef.  

 

A Taste of Things shifts its focus to more domestic things such as picnics by the lake, walks in the woods, and Dodin’s proposals to Eugénie. He is clearly in love with her and she with him; they’ve been sleeping together for years–always with Eugénie in control of when. She has also turned down his proposals many times, as she doesn’t particularly wish to marry. These are the most beautiful shots of the film, courtesy of the dappled light cinematography of Jonathan Ricquebourg. Equally touching and lambent are scenes in which Dodin demonstrates his devotion to Eugénie by cooking for her when she develops a mysterious illness. Forget the prince; Dodin prepares a multi-course meal fit for a queen served on fine china and with wine in crystal goblets. In an act of submissive role reversal, Dodin waits on her, a white towel draped across his sleeve. Within the logic of the film, his is the ultimate expression of love that melts Eugénie’s resistance to give up her independence.

 

There is more, but I will leave those revelations for you to discover. The Taste of Things is a visual stunner, but Trân Anh Hùng is an enigmatic director. Perhaps his best known film was 1993’s A Scent of Green Papaya. Like The Taste of Things it was a slow-paced movie that was praised more by critics than the viewing public. The Vietnam-born, French resident Hùng won several best director awards in Europe for Taste, including a Palme d’or at Cannes. His influences include such auteurs as Bergman, Kurosawa, and Tarkovsky. If you are familiar with their films you know that each emphasizes style and leaves it to the audience to make sense of actors immersed in ambience. Is this a flattering trust in viewers or perverse stubbornness on  Hùng’s part? I can only assure you that A Taste of Things will more than satisfy your visual appetite.

 

Rob Weir

 

* Why 1889? That was the year that Paris hosted the World’s Fair in which the Eiffel Tower debuted. It and the 1893 exposition in Chicago are sometimes used to symbolize the waning of traditional ways and the coming of modernism.