LIVING OUT LOUD ** (out of four) -a review by Bill Chambers (wchamber@netcom.ca)
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starring Holly Hunter, Danny DeVito, Martin Donovan, Queen Latifah written and directed by Richard LaGravanese
LIVING OUT LOUD started production as "The Kiss" (borrowed from Chekhov's story), a title dropped because of its associations with a best-selling, non-fictional account of a father and daughter's incestuous relationship. LIVING OUT LOUD is not about such family ties; it's not about much of anything---a sheep dressed in "Girl Power" clothing. LIVING OUT LOUD is the directorial debut of a wonderful screenwriter (LaGravanese adapted The Bridges of Madison County and The Horse Whisperer, in addition to receiving an Oscar-nomination for his original screenplay The Fisher King) who should stay behind the typewriter.
A blonde Hunter plays Judith, caregiver to an old, rich woman (Lin Shaye) and recent dumpee of husband Dr. Nelson (the always-charismatic Donovan). Judith fantasizes some of the time: about suicide, about meeting her idol, torch singer Liz Bailey (Latifah)... These day-dream sequences are weaved into the film without warning; sometimes, we're not sure whether a scene is unfolding inside or outside of her head. (Echoes of Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie, Louis Buñuel's anti-narrative masterwork.) DeVito plays Pat, the down-on-his luck elevator operator of her building; his teenage daughter has just passed away, so he Judith unite over their common losses. He falls in love with her quickly, but she has her sights set on the mysterious stranger (Elias Koteas) who accidentally (yes, accidentally) made out with her at her favourite nightclub. Actually, Judith has her sights set on any man who is the exact physical opposite of chubby, stubby Pat, though the filmmakers gloss over her shallowness.
LaGravanese has an ear for dialogue-born and raised in a household of women, he writes exceptionally good, complex female characters. But this movie has all the trappings of a first-timer's feature: no sense of economy-otherwise known as I'm-in-love-with-every-frame Syndrome (DeVito's daughter's silent death scene is covered in so many shots the cutting disrupts the mood), no sense of pace (though never boring, the middle section is lumpy), and no idea what to do with anybody else but the main protagonists (with the exception of Latifah, who has a presence which extends beyond her slightly underwritten role-I wouldn't be surprised if she received a Supporting Actress nomination come next February). DeVito gives it his all-this is the warmest performance of his career, which makes Judith seem all the more like a cold fish for shunning his awkward advances; we are supposed to see a little bit of ourselves in Judith, but I lost my affection for her once she hired a studly masseuse before DeVito's despondent eyes. Reactions to Hunter's character will surely vary from person to person (after all, selfishness is our nature, and to some degree, Judith is a refreshingly flawed human character), but her actions, compounded by a head-scratching "Mary Tyler Moore"-esque epilogue, are ultimately what prevent me from recommending the film.
I have mentally dwelled upon LIVING OUT LOUD for weeks since my initial viewing, only to come to the above conclusions. At the very least, DeVito begins a new career path with this film-were he and Latifah only reason enough to see it.
-October, 1998
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