cinemattraction

Hollywood produces dozens, if not hundreds, of literary adaptations every year. Yet they very often exist in an indistinct, muddled cinematic milieu, in which the vision of the author appears to give way to that of the screenwriter, director or studio suits overseeing the production. Not so Lajos Koltai’s Evening, which makes the movie a considerable pleasure.

In being adapted from Susan Minot’s novel by herself and Michael Cunningham, both authors rather than screenwriters, the picture retains the feel of a grand literate outsider’s vision of high-society existence. Though set in the 1950s, it brings to mind Fitzgerald, certainly, and his fellow expatriate peers, who dreamt up stories both affectionate and critical, detailing feelings of love and longing amidst the high-end, carefree Jazz Age lifestyle they shared.

The film crosscuts between the 1950s and the present day, depicting a key moment in the life of a young woman named Ann Grant and her sudden recalling of it on her deathbed many years later. The former scenes follow Ann, played by Claire Danes, a stern, middle class singer from New York as she joins her playboy WASP boyfriend (Hugh Dancy) on a trip to his familial home in Newport, R.I., for the wedding of his big sis and her best friend (Mamie Gummer).

There she meets and is smitten by Harris (Patrick Wilson), the son of the family’s longtime housemaid. Emotionally wrought complications ensue amidst the ethereal coastal beauty. Many years later, an older, disease stricken Ann (Vanessa Redgrave) startles her daughters (Natasha Richardson and Toni Collette) by repeatedly mentioning Harris. The fact that their mother might have had and lost her greatest love inspires them to reconsider much of their own lives.

The structure employed never fully works, as the present-day scenes (at least until Meryl Streep shows up) lack much dramatic resonance. The three terrific actresses are given little to do: Redgrave puts on a standard crazy older woman act, while Richardson and Collette wring their hands. These moments enhance the dramatic weight that underlies the Newport milieu but the same effect could have been achieved had they served as a prologue and/or an epilogue. They lack the poignant, reflective quality of the 1950s storyline, which boasts a heightened dramatic environment in which every gesture, line of spoken dialogue and calculated glance attains wide-ranging importance.

That’s so because the audience approaches the Newport scenes with the understanding that a life-changing event is to occur. The knowledge that it will ultimately meld into unfulfilled passion and a lifetime of regret brings an undercurrent of sadness to the party heavy, superficially happy proceedings. Koltai renders them in the style of a ghost story. The highfalutin, pomp and circumstance of the Newport crowd, the eagerness with which Ann thrusts herself towards Harris and, most especially, the youthful spirit seem frozen in time, a beautiful memory to be relived over and over.

The filmmaker, following the remarkable Fateless with his English language debut, achieves this by employing a series of long shots that emphasize the overwhelming natural beauty of the coastal setting, as characters look up under a blanket of stars, stroll through a foggy, foreboding forest and set out for the beach, with an endless night sky stretching out towards the horizon. They seem pawns in a larger game, subject to destiny’s whims and fancies. There’s considerable power in the notion that one might not always be in autonomous control of life’s course, and that sometimes what seems meant to be still might not work out.

The director also benefits, in these scenes, from his superb ensemble. Danes projects beauty, strength and a desire for something more substantial than that provided by Dancy’s pampered party boy. The British Dancy handles his very American character, outwardly personable but struggling with a host of inner demons, with skill and conviction, never going over the top into upper-class parody. Gummer, Streep’s real-life daughter, brings the right touch of bitterness to her character, who knows she’ll never be pretty or dynamic enough to attract Harris, the love of her life as well. Wilson, Glenn Close and Barry Bostwick ably round things out. Though the presence of so many superior performers screams Oscar bait, each is well cast and able to derive substance from their characters.

The picture avoids most of the clichés usually associated with the lavish romantic drama, remaining straightforward and often subdued in unfurling the story, at least during the younger years. Though it maintains lofty ambitions, with its broad themes and ideas of destiny and fate, Evening tells a real story and evokes recognizable emotions. It never panders to the supposed chick flick crowd, and exists to do more than simply wet some tear ducts. It’s also absurdly beautiful and literate-the work of a visual master, two wonderful writers and a welcome assemblage of prodigious on camera talent. Forgive it some flaws, and there’s a lot to admire.

© 2007 Robert Levin. All rights reserved.

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