December
12, 2003 | In an age when fast-and-furious youth-skewing farces
are accepted, however grudgingly, as the contemporary equivalents of
classical romantic comedies, it's nothing short of delightful to encounter
anything like Something's Gotta Give, an uncommonly smart and
sophisticated amusement made by, for and with grown-ups.
Credit
Nancy Meyers (What Women Want) for writing a wonderfully wise
and witty script, casting it with impeccable precision - Jack Nicholson
and Diane Keaton are the brilliant stars - and directing it at a gracefully
unhurried pace that allows us ample time to spend with characters we
want to spend a lot of time with.
As
Harry Sanborn, a well-to-do sixtysomething bachelor who famously refrains
from dating women over 30, Nicholson does everything but wink at the
audience to indicate that, yeah, sure, he gets the joke, he knows he's
been typecast. But rather than coast through on his considerable charisma,
he laces his zesty performance with meticulously apportioned measures
of middle-age melancholy and rueful self-awareness. Better still, he
curbs his enthusiasm for what might be called "eyebrow acting"
- trust me, you know it when you see it - even as Harry appreciates
the possibilities of his latest conquest, Marin (Amanda Peet), a comely
auctioneer for Christie's.
We
meet Harry as he and Marin begin a romantic weekend at her mother's
Hamptons beach house. Harry's upset when his idyll is interrupted by
the unexpected arrival of Erica Barry (Keaton), Marin's divorced mom,
described as "the most successful woman playwright since Lillian
Hellman." But Erica proves to be a lifesaver - literally, thanks
to her CPR prowess - when Harry is felled by chest pains before he can
lure Marin between the sheets.
At
the local hospital, Erica immediately captures the fancy of Julian Mercer
(Keanu Reeves, fully recovered from his Matrix moroseness), a
much younger doctor who admires her plays. It takes Harry considerably
longer to warm toward the playwright while, back at the beach house,
he convalesces under her reluctantly watchful eye. But, then again,
it takes every bit as long for chronically uptight Erica to let down
her guard and admit that, sometimes, opposites really do attract.
There's
something almost quaint, even comforting, about the old-fashioned conventions
at play in Something's Gotta Give. The movie abounds in topical
references - everything from hip-hop to Web surfing - but it remains,
at heart, the kind of slow-infatuation, delayed-gratification scenario
that would have played equally well with moviegoers a generation or
two ago. It speaks volumes about the frankly retrograde sensibility
guiding the plot that Erica is a playwright, not a screenwriter. Keaton
is terrific in the role, effortlessly exuding intelligence and mature
sexiness. And while it might not be altogether intentional on her part,
she occasionally suggests that Erica is a long-lost twin of Annie Hall,
older and wiser but no less easily flustered.
Meyers
brings admirable resourcefulness to contriving obstacles that delay
the inevitable happily-ever-aftering. My only real complaint: I wish
she would have had the nerve to end Something's Gotta Give about
five minutes before she does. But let's face it: Such a move probably
would have upset the very people - diehard romantics and nostalgic movie
buffs - most likely to respond favorably to this light, bright bauble.