Polls
show that 85 percent of the time, people go to movies to laugh.
The other 15 percent of the time, I’d wager, they go to watch
rich people suffer--and Woody Allen’s latest, Match Point,
set amidst the verdant country estates and urban cultural playgrounds
of the very British and very rich scratches that schadenfreude-ian
itch. Match Point is really an old-fashioned morality tale,
the spiritual successor to films such as A Place in the Sun
(1951), adapted from Theodore Dreiser’s An American
Tragedy, both cautionary tales for any lad who aspires, or
conspires, to enhance his station in life through duplicitous means
such as ‘marrying up’.
Jonathan Rhys-Meyers
as tennis pro Chris Wilton and Scarlett Johansson as wannabe actress
Nola Ric play the outsiders who wangle their way into the upper
strata of society via the ultra-rich Hewet family. Chris glosses
over his lower class Irish upbringing to win over his student Tom
Hewet and to bag his sister Chloe as rung-on-the-ladder trophy wife,
while Nola uses her aberrant family back in the U.S. as fodder for
her alluring, hyper-sexual persona that—only temporarily,
alas—ensnares scion and all around good guy Tom. But the Hewets
welcome Chris and Nola into the bosom of their warm, sheltering
family, if only barely over the suspicions of Mother Hewet, whose
doubts about Nola and her “type” are dismissed by Papa
Hewet as the effects of one too many gin and tonics. Chris and Nola
eventually meet and, whether the fault of breeding or upbringing—fall
into a sexual affair that soon borders on the obsessive.
Rhys-Meyers
is miscast as a rough-hewn counterpoint to Hewets’ witty urbanity.
His slight build and brooding indecision telegraph more a Hamlet
than the grasping parvenu necessary. He seems to be an aristo acting
the Irish ploughman instead of the other way around, quite in control
of his working class accent, which he only let slips once, as well
as his appetites, so his later loss of control over Nola does not
compute. The development of Chris’ character, the focus of
the piece, seems sketchy and incomplete. Johanansson is very good
at being very bad, and the rest of the cast are marvelous. We truly
like the family Hewet, erudite and loving in spite of their huge
riches—which they do not flaunt, by the way, bestowing their
largesse on worthy causes. The dialogue, though, is a bid leaden;
at times we feel as though we are trapped in a Masterpiece Theater
rendition of a fusty English detective yarn.
Allen’s
movies sometimes do tend to be tone poems. What was the plot of
Annie Hall, anyway, or Manhattan? It does not
much matter, as they were delicious to watch. Match Point,
though is story, story, story. And, like Allen’s Crimes
and Misdemeanors (1989) the inciting incident that propels
this narrative is adultery and its consequences. One cannot help
but note Woody Allen’s notorious private life: the affairs
with one woman and at the same time with her adopted daughter, the
later marriage to the daughter. I will not insert a spoiler here,
but Allen’s Chris Wilton pores over his Dostoevsky novels
in his spare time, while La Traviata, an operatic exploration
of fallen women and their woeful men, serves as soundtrack; in Match
Point, the moral minefield of illicit love and sex ignites
once more, with satisfying results for almost all.
--
Patricia Ducey
Copyright Web del Sol, 2006 |