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Far From Fluff
by Josh Timmermann
Not unlike Far From Heaven, which paid homage to the 50's melodramas of Douglas Sirk in general and All That Heaven Allows in particular, Down With Love is a pastiche of the romantic fluff and swingin' style of the early 60's Rock Hudson/Doris Day comedies, specifically Pillow Talk (which was actually released in 1959). Peyton Reed's film is every bit as eye-poppingly stylized and drenched in filmic artifice as Todd Haynes's. Both films work wonderfully within their once popular, but long outmoded, subgenres, while simultaneously using their medium to offer genuinely provocative and relevant commentary on their respective themes.
Down With Love is a hell of a lot of fun, just as it should be. As surely as Haynes' film will bring you to the brink of tears, Reed's will put a big grin on your face and have you laughing out loud frequently. It's fabulously mounted and realized with enough snappy, throwaway one-liners and hilarious, if occasionally crude, visual gags to supplement the next Austin Powers sequel. But don't let the cheesy glitz and faux glitter throw you off: Down With Love is also a film with a hell of a lot to say.
You might want to stop reading now (or skip the next five paragraphs) if you haven’t yet seen the film and plan on doing so...
Up until a climactic scene in which a secret identity is revealed, the film is pretty much what one what would expect from a reimagining of Pillow Talk from more of a contemporary mindset, albeit with some suggestive nods to the clever and even subtly subversive brilliance still waiting in the wings. In a slightly surreal confessional monologue, Barbara Novak (Renée Zellweger), author of the best-selling female empowerment bible "Down with Love," admits to Catcher Reed
(Ewan McGregor), the star columnist for a men's magazine who has been posing as an aw-shucks Texan astronaut in an attempt to seduce Novak into falling in love with him and expose her as a sentimental traditionalist after all, that she is, in fact, Nancy Brown, a former secretary of his whose heart was broken by his unwillingness to give her the time of day, so to both get back at him and get him, she penned a pro-woman (anti-man) manifesto and precisely anticipates all of the film's preceding events. (Whew! If you thought that sentence went on forever, just wait until you hear Zellweger’s one-take monologue!)
Just then, when it seems as if the two will live happily ever after, it dawns on Barbara--or rather Nancy--that, in the process of winning over Catcher, she's grown to enjoy inhabiting the role of the feminist icon she's created, and that to give up the facade now would be to let down all the women who've subscribed to her dogma.
The problem is that the tables have now turned completely. Catcher is the one hopelessly in love with someone who doesn't need him, whereas Barbara is now content to fill what would've previously been regarded as a man's role. Which is to say that the "female empowerment" that has resulted from the affair has not raised Nancy to the same level as Catcher, but rather placed her on a lofty pedestal above him.
But then, in a sublime epilogue that satisfyingly fulfills its promise of a happy ending, Catcher offers himself, ego and all, up to her in the name of--you guessed it--love (with truth, beauty, and freedom as presumably part of the package, as well). Having been in each other's respective, seemingly opposed, positions, Catcher and Nancy can only now understand where the other is coming from, and where the happy medium of Equality is, and thus the need or desire to be further "empowered" or exalted onto a higher plain than the other no longer exists.
I briefly resented, or at least gave thought to resenting, this fairy-tale ending on the basis that its premise essentially presupposed feminism as little more than a girlish game of hard-to-get, but then I realized just how squarely on the head Down With Love nails that touchy issue. It optimistically presents the battle of the sexes not as a one-sided attack on a patriarchal social system, often requiring the denial of inherent emotional truths in order to "succeed," but as a not-so-cold war that can be won through diligence, empathy, understanding, and perhaps a little role-playing, too. Though both make very convincing points through cinematic homage and compassionate storytelling, Down With Love's world-view is ultimately as warm and humanistic as Far From Heaven's is cold and vitriolic; both films are not only consistent with the tone of the films that inspired them, but reflect tellingly on the cultural conditions surrounding those films and the degree to which they serve as imitations of life for their respective periods.
The cast here is uniformly terrific. Zellweger, who I found irritatingly shrill and curiously miscast in the hollow, hugely overrated Chicago, has redeemed herself here. Her work here feels considerably less forced, and is perfectly in step with the film’s breezily farcical atmosphere. Ewan McGregor is no less wonderful, and as "ladies’ man, man’s man, man about town" Catcher might say, adds another notch in his belt as (Star Wars prequels aside) one of the most versatile and unpredictable actors of his generation. David Hyde Pierce brings the same vaguely effeminate sophistication and wit that distinguishes his Niles on Frasier to his role here as Catcher’s boss at KNOW ("the magazine for men in the know") and best friend. If there is one standout performance in Down With Love, though, it belongs to Sarah Paulson as Barbara’s admiring book editor. Much like her character, Paulson’s charm lies largely in her seeing no need to charm; she is thus an ideal test candidate for the "Down with Love" approach to romance (or lack thereof).
Down With Love has provoked similarly superficial and short-sighted reactions in some critical circles, which is a shame, considering how much it has to offer as an enjoyable, multi-layered piece of popular art. In fact, if another studio film comes along this year that is this fun and insightful, I will be shocked.
Peyton Reed’s previous film and debut effort, Bring It On, was widely underestimated by critics unwilling to get past its popcorn appeal and teenage target audience, and thus unfairly dismissed as a run-of-the-mill disposable summer flick. Bring It On was a film with a brain, and had a good deal more to say (specifically about the way black culture is often "whitewashed" and thus made more "acceptable" to the mainstream) than most of its critics either caught on to or were willing to admit.
Peyton Reed
©2003 Josh Timmermann
CineScene
