DYING YOUNG A film review by Scott Schnackenberg Copyright 1991 Scott Schnackenberg
With Julia Roberts, Campbell Scott, Colleen Dewhurst and Vincent D'Onofrio Directed by Joel Schumacher
I have not seen HUDSON HAWK, but it is hard to imagine a summer movie that is any worse than this one. Schumacher has shown little ability to create three dimensional characters in his ensemble films (ST. ELMO'S FIRE, FLATLINERS), and he has no more success here with what is essentially a two-character drama.
Roberts plays Hilary, a street smart (the film expects us to know this because her best friend happens to be black) working class woman. She is hired by rich, educated Victor (Scott) to take care of him during his chemotherapy treatments for leukemia. His motives for hiring her are less than pure -- he is looking for a pretty woman to take care of him rather than a skilled nurse. Of course the interviewed nurses we are shown are all old and decidedly unattractive. Why couldn't Hilary have been a spunky and beautiful lower class nurse who happened to catch Victor's fancy? The reason becomes clear later the film when the idiot plot (which I won't spoil) gains what semblance of plausibility it has from Hilary's medical ignorance.
The clash in class roots and values between Hilary and Victor is rendered schematically with sledgehammer subtlety. On their first date he makes her uncomfortable in a high class restaurant, she makes him squirm in a gritty dance club. When they watch Jeopardy he knows all about history and literature, but she knows her sitcoms. This is paint by numbers characterization at its worst.
Roberts certainly has star quality on camera, and she is not a bad actress. To the detriment of the movie, however, some scenes are shot more to show off her physical assets than to advance the story or give depth to the characters. When she shows up for her interview in a short tight skirt, for example, much of the scene seems to be shot from about knee level.
Scott plays Victor with quiet intensity. With his soft deep voice and penchant for covering his head with bandanas and hats he reminded me of Michael Stipe from the rock group R.E.M.. A crucial flaw of the movie is that the audience never sees a compelling reason for Hilary to fall in love with Victor (unless she is awfully enthralled by his knowledge of impressionist painters ... yeah, right). We can feel sorry for him, but his character is not particularly sympathetic. In the latter stages of the film, in fact, he is utterly cruel to Hilary and their friend Gordon (D'Onofrio, whose underdeveloped role as the third point in the triangle was evidently left on the cutting room floor).
Ultimately this movie aims pretty low, and still misses its target by a wide margin. My wife, who gave it lots of critical slack due to her morbid fondness for flicks that combine a love story with a terminal disease, left the theater dry-eyed and disappointed.
Rating: 2 on the 10 point scale
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