HOPE FALLS
...flat on its face

by Kristen Ashley

The best thing to do, if you are engaged to a man who seems unwilling to commit, is to send him an invitation to your wedding to another man. This little joke will surely make him realize just how much he loves you, rather than make him realize why he has been dragging his heels. And the first thing that man should do is fall in love with the first weirdo that crosses his path. In fact, he should spend all of his time in a town where everyone is either terribly unfriendly, hideously strange, or a slag.

Okay, let me go back to the beginning. In Hope Springs, Colin Firth plays Colin. Colin has just received an invitation to the wedding of his fiancée...not his former fiancée, but his current one. His reaction to this is not to ask the appropriate person, "What the fuck?" but to leave England and go to a town somewhere in America called "Hope Springs." On his way there we watch Colin be morose and what I think is supposed to pass as jet-lagged. I think this because later he kindly tells me, which is good because otherwise I'd continue to think he was a little touched and has managed to escape from his caregivers. We also watch him do a variety of strange things like, for instance, take a bus to Hope Springs rather than rent a car or something less uncomfortable and stupid. It could be that they were foreshadowing the fact that Colin would do a lot of stupid things...and I mean a lot.

Immediately upon entering the town (a small town by visual accounts) he hits the local mercantile, which also sells artist supplies - and pretty good ones at that. The folks who run the mercantile are ill-tempered, sour-faced, greedy and downright rude. In fact, hideously so. Colin is so devastated by the news of his fiancée's upcoming nuptials (although we don't know this at the time) that he seems prepared to do whatever he needs to do to stay in a place called Hope Springs (although we don't know this at the time). This would include putting up with rude people who are meant to be serving him instead of throwing his supposedly $48 sketch pad and pencils at them and telling them to go fuck themselves.

He then walks rather unsteadily to the local inn and meets the strange proprietress, Joanie (played by Mary Steenburgen, who clearly saw her motivation for this role as finding and portraying every stereotype of the sweet, well-meaning, back country, one-step-up-from-trailer-trash slag and challenging herself by doing it badly). For some reason unknown to us and never explained, Joanie shows Colin to a room, force feeds him phamaceuticals he'd rather not take (when are people going to realize that this is not funny?) and foists Mandy (Heather Graham) on him. Mandy is a caregiver, and thinks because she works at an old folks home she can cure Colin of his heartbreak. Instead, she hits on him, he accepts, they end up going to a garden where she behaves so bizarrely that she is beginning to frighten me (and seemingly, Colin). They return to his hotel room (what else would they do?) and she starts to dance around naked, but innocently, mind you, and Colin's interest is raised (pun intended).

Of course, since this is so bad, so incredibly, remarkably, sickeningly, annoyingly bad...it gets better...although minutely. Vera (Minnie Driver), Colin's fiancée, shows up after Colin has fallen for Mandy and explains her little joke. Vera is a bad person and we know this because she smokes (a lot), she wears nicer clothing than Mandy (in fact, nicer clothing than anyone in America seems to have access to), she drives a nicer car and she stays in a decent hotel.

Anyway, loads of shit happens, misunderstandings, lies told for no apparent reason, Colin (an artist) sketches a variety of extremely unattractive Americans (great sketches, I have to admit), Colin meets with Vera for a variety of stupid reasons, Vera runs around in underwear (and scares me with those abs, yikes!), smirks angrily at everyone who tells her not to smoke (which is everyone) and tells off golfers... Don't ask.

Through it all, Colin Firth tries really hard, and succeeds, at being very tall. He also pulls off a rather attractive line or two. Mostly you just wonder why he's so stupid. Graham is about as adorable and attractively quirky as, well...she's just not, either. She's just annoying. Driver is very bad at being bad, but she does manage to be the most interesting one of the bunch...however, you wonder why she would waste her time with Colin.

Unless it has Julia Roberts, I say a new Hollywood rule should be that no character who considers Flo on Alice as her fashion icon should be allowed in any film, period, dot, the end. Hell, go all out, that includes Julia Roberts. Although Colin Firth is ridiculously attractive and Minnie Driver seems like she could be rather good at being bad if given the right fodder...no matter what these two do (and, God bless them, they try) it couldn't make up for the fact that Heather Graham either needs a really good director or really funny co-star to display any personality at all and, yes, thanks, we get it! Mary Steenburgen still has a kick-ass bod, and this was a terrible story told terribly and acted (by most) terribly.

Mark Herman (who gave us the much better film Little Voice) wrote and directed this dreck from a novel by Charles Webb. I'm hoping for reasons beyond Mr. Herman's control, there is a lot of film on the cutting room floor that explains a lot of what we didn't see happen on the screen, most of it to do with Mandy's behavior. If not, then this movie was just plain bad. Regardless, in the form in which it has been released, I advise - do not, I repeat, do not bother with Hope Springs. It's crap.

Calendar Girls, directed by Nigel Cole, is what you call a feel-good movie. I know what you're thinking. Not another bloody British feel-good movie. Of course, Billy Elliot was good, but don't push your luck. And you're right...you are exactly right. It has become formula, predictable, boring. Hello! It's a feel good movie. Calendar Girls, by the way, is the "true" story of a group of ladies who belong to the Rylstone Women's Institute, an organization that apparently exists to perpetuate mediocre fundraising schemes by selling calendars, to bore the bejesus out of its members through speeches about broccoli, and to sing that song that reminds me of Chariots of Fire (mind you, I've never seen Chariots of Fire). One of the ladies' husbands dies of cancer, and the sofa in the family area of the hospital is uncomfortable, so the ladies decide to pull out all the stops in their next fund raising strategy and pose nude for their next calendar. Well, I don't have to tell you that they got their sofa and over £500,000 to build a leukemia wing...not to mention a spot on Leno.

Do you feel good just reading it? I do.

There are reasons to see Calendar Girls. Helen Mirren is in it. So is Julie Walters. Both of them are fabulous, beautiful, funny, touching...all things you're supposed to be in feel-good movies. They make you laugh, they make you cry. The only thing they don't make you do is think, which is one of the reasons why you went to the movie in the first place. The movie goes further, bringing us ALL the good stuff. Helen and Julie wear damn fabulous "country" "older woman" clothes. They do Tai Chi on a hill top. They have unbelievable homes. They live in Yorkshire (mind you, I've never been to Yorkshire). They and their fellow spunky ladies are witty and know how to deliver a good line. The movie is pretty, in a lot of ways, eye candy that is quite delicious. And there is a fabulous bit about a Victoria sponge from Marks and Sparks that is a true giggle.

But there are reasons not to see Calendar Girls. It's predictable. It isn't boring but it teeters very close to the edge. The feel-good part of the film climaxes too soon, and then we have what seems like it's going to be a lesson, but then it isn't. It wants to be feel-good; it wants to tell the story of two friends, but it doesn't know where the emphasis should lie. It loses itself and ends up nailing neither point and then dissolves totally when it ends on an obvious, silly line.

Do I recommend Calendar Girls? Yes, I do. It's better than practically anything on television (not counting Pop Idol, Sex and the City or Changing Rooms). It's also better than most books I've read recently (not including my currently-on-hiatus run through Terry Pratchett). It isn't the best movie you'll see this year but it certainly won't be the worst. Hopefully you won't feel it was a waste of your time...I didn't.

©2003 Kristen Ashley
CineScene