January
19, 2001 |
Making a fleeting appearance in theaters before fulfilling its destiny
as cable-TV fodder, The Amati Girls is the kind of painfully
sincere and stilted drama that can make a cast of well-seasoned professionals
come off as a gaggle of flat-footed amateurs.
Written
and directed by Anne DeSalvo, a veteran stage and screen actress who
shouldn't quit her day job, this indie effort plays like the unsold
pilot for a prime-time dramedy about an extended Italian-Catholic family
in Philadelphia.
Dolly
Amati (Cloris Leachman), recently widowed after 47 years of marriage,
is obsessed with making plans for her own funeral, much to the discomfort
of Grace (Mercedes Ruehl), her deeply religious eldest daughter. Grace
is an indefatigable optimist whose selflessness borders on masochism
- in one of the movie's creepier scenes, she proudly proclaims that
she "surrendered" her own will to that of her thoughtlessly
bossy husband (Paul Sorvino) - and who knows precisely what prayers
should be directed to which saints during times of trial.
Christine
(Sean Young), Grace's sister, isn't nearly so patient and prayerful.
Indeed, she's on the verge of divorcing Paul (Jamey Sheridan), her workaholic
husband, because he neglects her and their adolescent daughter. Denise
(Dinah Manoff), another sister, doesn't think she has time for a husband,
workaholic or otherwise, as she doggedly pursues a singing career. She
will let nothing, not even her conspicuous lack of talent or a marriage
proposal from a sweet-tempered Mr. Right (Mark Harmon), divert her from
her dreams.
Dolores
(Lily Knight), the mentally challenged youngest sister, has far more
modest ambitions: She wants to have a boyfriend, just like "normal"
girls do. Trouble is, when Dolores does find a soul mate, Dolly strongly,
and very loudly, disapproves. Naturally, Grace doesn't dare disagree
with her mother. So she suggests that Dolores - yes, you guessed it!
- pray for a miracle.
People
who take matters of faith seriously are rarely treated sympathetically
in contemporary films; more often than not, such characters are rendered
as buffoons, hypocrites, virulent gay-bashers or, at best, priests intent
on performing exorcisms. So there is an undeniable novelty value to
The Amati Girls, which makes a game effort to offer a positive
representation of religious folks.
Unfortunately,
good intentions are never enough to compensate for bad moviemaking.
As the banal plot lurches from domestic crisis to sitcom jokiness, from
contrived tragedy to warm-and-fuzzy sentimentality, characters repeatedly
pelt each other with inspirational platitudes about life, love and family
values. (Imagine an episode of Sisters or Life Goes On written
by Dr. Laura Schlessinger.) The dialogue rings false, the situations
reek of clumsy contrivance - and the utterly shameless ending is torn
from the pages of The Handbook for Lazy Screenwriters. Like far
too many other filmmakers, DeSalvo obviously subscribes to the notion
that there's nothing like killing off a central character to make everyone
else in your movie better appreciate life.