It's Complicated

"Karma is the Ultimate Bitch in this One"
or,
If You Can't Stand the Hot-Flash, Get Out of the Kitchen.

It's refreshing to see a movie about a mature couple of advanced age—mine—dealing with post break-up issues. I just wish they weren't being so immature while doing it.

Jane Adler (Meryl Streep) is reaching a transition point in her life—approaching "empty nester" age: her oldest daughter Lauren (Caitlin Fitzgerald) is engaged to Harley (John Krasinski), middle daughter Gabby (Zoe Kazan) is moving out of the house, and youngest, Luke (Hunter Parrish) is graduating from college. Her ex-husband Jake (Alec Baldwin) is now married to young "Ms. thang" Agness (Lake Bell), with an inherited son (from her last affair), Pedro (Emjay Anthony). She has decided that she's going to expand her nest...er, house so she can have "the kitchen she's always dreamed of;" she runs a salonish bakery, and she can cook (second movie this year—"Julie & Julia" from Nora Ephron, this one from Nancy Meyers, both of whom seem to be trying to keep Streep in the kitchen).

Youngest son's graduation pulls the whole family together in New York, with Jake "flying solo" due to family illness. Once there, the two old marrieds hook up, and once Jane is tanked, there occurs a "once more for old times' sake" canoodling that leaves him satisfied and her vomiting.

Most guys would take that as a sign, but not Jake. Soon, he's spending too much time at Jane's, telling his ex-wife that his wife doesn't understand him, and while it may seem like sweet revenge for Jane, she's also creeped out by it, so much so that she won't tell the kids, and allows it to interfere with a budding romance with her architect (Steve Martin). Now, maybe I've been watching too many "Nature" shows on elephants lately, but I could have used David Attenborough to explain this mating ritual to me.

Maybe it's that Martin and Baldwin are playing the roles the other should have taken: Martin's love interest is a deferential, shell-shocked divorcee with a manner that reminded me of Charlie Ruggles, and Baldwin's in full pursed lips obnoxious priss mode (without the "30 Rock" irony) that makes his character not so much funny as alarming. And Streep, consummate pro that she is, works the material for all its worth, fluttering and kvelling and kvetching, making Jane seem two pastries shy of a brunch. There are times when there seems to be some acknowledgment of time—Jane is constantly fanning herself, as if caught in a hot-flash, but the next instant she's giggling like "Juno."

The one guy who seems to be doing something interesting is John Krasinski, as the not-yet husband who finds he's baby-sitting his future in-laws, and is the only one who seems to rise above the material to be doing something interesting—interesting and funny. As the only fully-informed character in the cast, he manages to convey the screwball nature of the situation, acting as the surrogate audience, eyes widening with each embarrassing compromise. He makes Meyers the director—with her sledge-hammer reaction shots and uneven pacing seem far more successful than she is.

"It's Complicated" is simply a Rental.

Baby Mama

"I can't stand her! It's like living with a child!"

We've been trying to remember when was the last American produced "chick/buddy" movie. Not like the one's we saw previews for here, like "Sex in the City" or the "Travelling Pants" girls--for some reason, the recent women films have had gangs of four, like "Sex" and "Pants" and the Tyler Perry films, or "Waiting to Exhale," as if four keeps you from getting too in-depth, you can gloss over the whole cast and maybe concentrate on one. But I think you have to go all the way back to Shelley Long's movie career to find a movie about two women, and have it be a comedy. Either that or its a foursome, or Kate Hudson and a guy, or its "Thelma and Louise" or a party like "Steel Magnolias" or the upcoming "The Women."

That aside, for once Lorne Michaels isn't exploiting a thin sketch concept from "Saturday Night Live" and merely exploiting the talents of two of his most effective players of late--the ubiquitous Tina Fey (her breakout success of "30 Rock" has put her in the fore-front of the culture and there's rumblings of a backlash...already? Jeez, at least give her time to get over her surprise and enjoy it!) and Amy Poehler, who is among the bravest of female comediennes to come down the pike. Ferociously dedicated to get a laugh, Poehler rivals Lucille Ball in her ability to risk dignity. She has a lot of those moments here but the highlight is a wheel-chair trip down a long corridor screaming from labor pains at the top of her longs and trying to hijack any IV drip along the way that might give her relief. That writer-director (and Saturday Night Live alum) Mike McCullers choses that moment to do it all in one shot watching her disappear down the hall, rather than in television sized snippets of close-ups is one of the few instances where he doesn't try to hammer the joke home by making it obvious. As a director he doesn't have much respect for his audience.

As a writer he fares better, finding the humor in a fairly basic concept (Successful career woman Kate Holbrook--Fey--wants a baby but feels that marriage is a "high-risk proposition," so must hire a surrogate carrier, the trashy Angie Ostriwiski--Poehler) moving the two women in together, "Odd Couple"-style, to experience the joys of pregnancy and the irritation of each other. Poehler's the one doing the physical comedy, while Fey plays the neurotically-together sensible one, basically her Liz Lemon character on "30 Rock," right down to the way she is casually insulted every step of the way, and continually accepts it. Rounding out the cast are such folks as Sigourney Weaver--Mary Tyler Moore-scary as surrogate-entrpreneur Chaffee Bignell--Greg Kinnear as a very convenient boy-friend for Fey, a short appearance by John Hodgman as a fertility specialist, Maura Tierney as Kate's sister, and Steve Martin as her cluelessly zen boss, a developer of whole foods markets. There's a lot of nice skewering of careful dietary habits, and of how rapacious the industry is. Towards the end, the movie starts going serious and ends with a too pat and altogether predictable ending, but it's a comedy, not Pinter.

I've been resisting the urge to toss out good lines from the movie, but I'll leave it at two: "Why's my avatar dressed like a whore?"

and this exchange:

"When's the best time to tell someone you've been lying to them?" "Yesterday."

"Baby Mama," is a Rental.

The Pink Panther (2005)

"The Pink Panther" (Shawn Levy, 2005) I've always been a big fan of the Blake Edwards' "Panther" films (until they became out-take reels, anyway), so when I heard of a new version with Mike Meyers as Clouseau, I didn't give it much of a chance. When Steve Martin signed on to take the role Peter Sellers made famous (and has been briefly taken over or supplanted by, respectively, Alan Arkin, Ted Wass, and Roberto Benigni) I gave it even less of a chance. The result...is not too terribly bad. Martin doesn't so much copy Seller's Clouseau, as spoof David Suchet's Hercule Poirot. His Clouseau is still informed of ego and little else, and is blithely unaware of what a prat he really is. Martin resists the urge to play it more broadly (which is his weakness), and if he doesn't have Sellers' innate ability to take things in a perversely savage manner, he does manage to keep the comedy up and the timing semi-precise (he's aided immeasurably by a bit too aggressive sound-design). One also has to credit the writers and Levy for matching Blake Edwards' ability to make a joke out of taking a small inconsequential act and turning it into a disaster. There is a terrific Edwards-ian gag involving a large globe (but NOT having Clouseau catch his finger in it as it spins) that builds quite precisely and would fit just as well into a silent film, which is from where the physical comedy of the "Panther" films sprang, and did a prat-fall. There are big changes. No Cato, though the gag is kept. Closeau still has a deadpan assistant (though now it's Jean Reno, whose potential is a bit wasted). And the plot is a combination "Pink Panther" and "A Shot in the Dark," although Beyoncé does not show as much screen-potential as Elke Sommer (that's one of those things you think you'd never write!) Someday Beyoncé may find a vehicle for her talents, but right now she's a bit behind Mariah Carey in the "Diva Most Likely Not To..." category (Somebody's going to have to overcome "The Curse of Diana Ross!"). And nobody can replace Henry Mancini, so Christopher Beck (who scored a lot of "Buffy") doesn't even try to match the sophistication. Michael Giacchino would be a better choice. And Kevin Kline feels a bit...restrained as Chief Inspector Dreyfus, though why no one thought of casting HIM as Clouseau is beyond me.