December 14, 2004

There are filmmakers who just make movies… and there are filmmakers who are given wing by - but also limited by - a singular focus on stories that touch very closely on their personal histories.

Some writers use this fact as a battering ram against certain directors. But it is an overreaching judgment to say that this is not a reality that can be overcome… and often is. Larry David has succeeded only when writing about himself. Seinfeld was mostly about him and people he knew. His second act, Curb Your Enthusiasm, is even more internalized. On the flip side, Oliver Stone is currently struggling to find the message of the 60s and early 70s that has driven his best work and to convert it to other eras and other stories. Clint Eastwood has been one of the most successful third act players in the business, reflecting on his work and image of 30 years and now slowly and brilliantly deconstructing his superstar image into deeper, more human truths.

Jim Brooks is flailing.

Few writer/producers have had three legendary TV shows to his credit. James L. Brooks has The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Taxi and Tracey Ullman/The Simpsons. As a feature filmmaker, Brooks started with adaptations, first converting Dan Wakefield's novel Starting Over into script that was directed by Alan J. Pakula and then converting the Larry McMurtry novel Terms of Endearment into a script that he directed himself.

He has since written only written for the movies. His first original script, Broadcast News, like the Mary Tyler Moore Show, tread on his personal experiences in the broadcast newsroom. His second, I'll Do Anything, was an ill-fated effort to make a musical, but was focused on life in Hollywood. His fourth film as writer-director was a production of a Mark Andrus screenplay to which Brooks brought a deft touch with actors, his skill as a writer, and a glossy Hollywood look.

But his fifth film, an original script, returns to the landscape of his last failure… Hollywood. And one fears that Brooks has stayed perilously close to home.

Spanglish is the story of a stunning gorgeous Mexican housekeeper hired into the failing Bel Air marriage of a deeply insecure, recently-unemployed woman and a calm, endlessly confident (though he tries to convince himself into insecurity of his own) chef who is about to be named the best in the country.

Pfffffzzzzt! Stop!

Bel Air. Sandler & Leoni. A 38-year-old couple in a big, $4 million Bel Air house. It happens. It probably happened to Jim Brooks. By the time he was 38, he had created and produced Mary Tyler Moore, Rhoda, Lou Grant and Taxi.

Next, insecure skinny blonde woman hires curvy Mexican stunner who speaks no English - and has no home caretaking experience of note - to be in her house with her distanced husband all day long. Has anyone been any dumber… or less realistic?

The wife's character is clearly an emotional wreck from minute one, which is explained by the loss of her job. So why don't we hear a word about her effort to or interest in work ever again in the film?

This is the foundation of Spanglish… the first 10 minutes.

This is not to say that these elements could not be brought together successfully. But in order to have such an unlikely reality dramatically sturdy, you have a lot of 'splainin' to do.

But we don't really know how they came to this beautiful life. We don't know what Leoni's character's job was, what she is good at (other than running) and what she wants to be doing with her life. And we never really learn what, besides the caretaking of her daughter, drives the heart of the magnificent Mexican housekeeper.

What is it like to be a walking goddess and to be without sexual companionship for a number of years? That interests me. We're not talking a woman who dresses like a frog but turns into a princess with a little lipstick. The way she dresses is guaranteed to draw attention. And there is one confrontation with some absolute jerks. But isn't there someone at the local bodega with whom she flirts, but can't allow to get close? Something! But no, it is yet another subject that falls through the cracks here.

Spanglish is a series of (mostly) well done short scenes that are utterly and painfully disconnected from both story structure and reality. When you separate the scenes from any discussion of the overall story, they do kinda work.

The daughter whose weight is terrifying to her mother, so the mother pushes too hard.

The alcoholic grandmother/mother who has been on a 30 year bender, but who spins words of wisdom because she is so sensitive, which is why she drinks.

The immigrant American child who assimilates too fast for her mother to even try to keep up.

The guy who fears the self-indulgence of major success.

All interesting… all done half way…. All completely unbelievable in the greater light of this story.

As you wander through the many flaws of this film, there are excuses and rationalizations all over the place. But "it really happened" is not an excuse for poor dramaturgy.

For instance, the fact that there is one great chef who chose not to employee Spanish-speaking employees in his Los Angeles-based restaurant is fine… but if you put it in a movie, you have to explain this very unusual choice.

Etc, etc, etc

I feel as though I could do another 1000 words detailing disconnects between clever scenes and the overall story. Don't even get me started on using the same "keep on translating even though what you are translating is clearly not meant to be translated" twice within a half hour!

But I won't.

There is enough punishment to come without me imposing any more. And I think I've made my point.

Nancy Meyers, did a smart thing last year. She stuck to her own truth, in Something's Gotta Give. There were flaws, but she did a film about people she really knew. Brooks here makes a film that apparently reflects truths of his life, but his life is so distant from almost anyone else's and he makes such sport of assuming that others will simply understand, it all feels fake… as fake as someone insisting that a person getting out of their car gets back in so they can "drive them the rest of the way to the bus stand" and then lurch forward two feet and say, "We're here." Ha ha. No one would do it.

"I gave up drinking three weeks ago… none of you even noticed."

Oy.

E-ME: Your input is welcome.