Theatrical Review of The Savages

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It´s amazing how a movie featuring both Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman--both fantastic actors--turns out to be so devoid of life, so cold and unemotional as to make a supporting character the most compelling person on screen. Forget the sibling pitter patter over the Gugenheim or who has the more demanding schedule. The only thing worth seeing in "The Savages" is Philip Bosco as their estranged father, Lenny.

After he uses feces to decorate the bathroom and his lady friend dies, Lenny is moved from sunny Arizona to miserable Buffalo in the dead of winter to be closer to his children, Wendy and Jon (Linney and Hoffman). Both are nutcases unto themselves: she is carrying on a relationship with a married man while he destroys relationships by not being able to commit to anyone except himself. Neither can be bothered to deal with their father, shoving him into a nursing home in an "out of sight, out of mind" way.

"The Savages" starts out with a great deal of promise. Early scenes in Arizona are rosy to a fault, featuring elderly women as cheerleaders and a warm, if dated, atmosphere. The humor in all its blackly deadpan attitude fit´s the film, promising more to come. But as soon as the self absorbed Wendy and Jon enter the picture, there´s nothing we want to do more than to focus on Lenny. Not because he is the most compelling character in the picture, but he´s the one who doesn´t make us want to slap him.

How many times can Jon and Wendy go around in the same song and dance, accusing each other of not loving their father or of being self absorbed? Why is there such a power struggle between the two neither can see the forest for the trees? What compels them to expend so much energy in creating a façade for one another that neither can be truthful about their lives? About how miserable they are? About how much they are alone?

It´s not a problem with the acting or even the characters; it´s the story. The audience is never given a reason to care about either one of them, any backstory or reason for being. Maybe it´s the point. Not to care about the people who are living lives, but about the person close to death. To see him as a full fledged human being even though he´s confined to a bed.

This movie, from director Tamara Jenkins, ("Slums of Beverly Hills"), asks us to accept Wendy and Jon as they are without expecting they will change. Even at the end, nothing has fundamentally changed in their relationship. Whereas Lenny learns over the course of the film he needs to rely on others and not be obscene towards them, his children learn nothing. It´s business as usual.

As I´ve alluded to, Philip Bosco is a treat to watch here as a man of few words. With the smallest of facial gestures or a single line of dialogue, he forms a fully realized human being and not a caricature of one. There is an authenticity to the performance, as if he has first hand knowledge of Lenny´s situation he brings to the table. It´s a wonderfully understated part in a story with competing blowhards.

And that´s a shame. When Jon and Wendy are truly absurd--and therefore completely fictional--they work their best. Take, for instance, a sequence in which Jon hooks himself up to a contraption designed to alleviate pressure on his back…or neck…or something. As Wendy eats in front of him and he tries to read his mail--not to mention eat himself--Hoffman is absurdly over the top. It´s one of the only moments the siblings are completely true with each other, allowing themselves to be brutally open together without a vein of hate or anger running in the scene.

Even later, when a lie is revealed, there´s nothing but anger between the two. The way they try to argue louder than the other isn´t funny or endearing. Hell, it´s not even remotely humorous. It´s cringe worthy. Lenny, in the front seat, agrees. He turns his hearing aide down to a bare minimum to escape the insanity. If only we were so lucky.

There has to be some sense of joy in these people´s lives not only for them, but for us as well. Between the bickering and the cheating, the lying and depressing environment, these three aren´t family; they´re just people forced into the situation. Which is a sad commentary on them and the current state of our familial unit. How do we let ourselves become estranged from the person who had a hand in bringing us into the world or from the children we nurture and raise? How does a son not know where his father is in his last years and, more importantly, why does he not care? "The Savages" doesn´t pretend to give any answers, preferring to show a slice of life

Aside from Bosco, one other aspect of "The Savages" is praiseworthy: the look of the film. From the cinematography to the location shooting and set design, the visual elements on screen create a world fitting with the people who inhabit it. The sky is continually overcast, the weather blustery, even the house Jon lives in is starting to fall apart. Notice the chipping paint and the way a window sticks as it is opened. Much like their lives, the world is falling apart. Plants die, vehicles are cramped and dilapidated . . . all the visual cues feed into the overall idea the story is trying to convey. Credit Jenkins for having the vision and her crew for pulling it off.

But also blame her for the shortcomings, namely the lack of emotional investment in the situation. The only way a movie like "The Savages" works is if the audience buys into everyone onscreen. And if they don´t? The entire endeavor is for naught, no matter how appropriate the production design or snappy five minutes of dialogue.

As much as it pains me to say, I was disappointed in "The Savages." There´s not enough to latch onto from either of the lead characters to be worthy of a time investment. It rates a 5 out of 10.

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