Soft-Core Porn for Boring Old People
Feast of Love / Dustin Rowles
Meet Bradley Smith — he’s an almost typical Greg Kinnear character: Affable, hopelessly optimistic in terms of love, and obliviously self-involved, so much so that he fails to recognize when his considerably younger wife (Selma Blair) falls for another woman, as the two are sitting next to him in a bar after a softball game (the softball field clearly being the hotspot for single lesbians). A few weeks later, Bradley’s wife has left him, and he hardly knows what to make of the situation, other than to latch onto a dog that eerily resembles him.
Thankfully, his best friend and a frequent patron of his coffee shop, Professor Harry Stevenson (Morgan Freeman), is a wizened moral compass that offers advice to direct him northwards in the ways of love, helping Bradley to pick himself up off his feet and almost immediately fall madly in love with another woman, a generically sexy blond realtor, Diana (Radha Mitchell), who clearly becomes involved with Bradley by default — the caddish prick that she actually loves is a married man who refuses to leave his wife and family. Meanwhile, Harry himself is having troubles of his own — he’s on an extended leave of absence from the university following his son’s death, a death that he blames himself for, though obviously no character played by Freeman could ever actually be at fault for the death of anyone, unless kindness actually does kill.
Elsewhere, the ill-fated twentysomething Oscar (Toby Hemingway), a barista in Bradley’s shop, falls immediately in love with Chloe (Alexa Davalos, who is insanely pretty), a woman who catches his eye as she’s peering into the coffeehouse. They are clearly meant to be, though a psychic has forewarned Chloe that Oscar is not long for this world, a revelation that actually sends her headlong into the relationship instead of away from it — such is the “bravery of love.”
And, of course, in Feast of Love all these relationships are interconnected in some small but insignificant way, and the story of their love lives is narrated by Freeman, because … well … that’s what Freeman does: He comforts, he advises, and he narrates. And if that sounds a bit sarcastic, I don’t mean it that way. In theory, I suppose, it’d be easy to tire of Freeman’s lot in cinema, destined to both narrate and play a variation of the same character for the rest of his life. But, to be honest, I’m OK with that: There’s comfort not only in the expected, but in Freeman’s ability to inject wisdom in even the most tedious of clichés. He’s guaranteed to make even the worst of films at least tolerable (Hard Rain, notwithstanding).
Likewise, I have several complaints with Robert Benton’s Feast of Love, but none that I feel inclined to share: It’s a soporific, sometimes lethargic meditation on love that feels as though it’s being delivered by your grandfather, someone you humor out of respect, even if the once virile man has one foot in the nursing home. And I’m all too willing to humor him here because, for all its faults, I can’t help but think that this is the exact movie that Benton intended to make. At 75-years-young, I’m not eager to despoil a great director’s perfectly acceptable, inoffensive film with a bunch of punk-ass sarcasm. I suspect that to Benton — who won an Oscar for writing and directing 1979’s Kramer vs. Kramer, about the break-up of a traditional marriage — Charles Baxter’s source material feels a little racy. And hell, you gotta give the man who wrote Bonnie and Clyde a little latitude in his old age, right?
Not that I’m necessarily recommending that anyone under the age of 50 go see Feast of Love, but it’s not a terrible movie by any stretch: It’s just a lazy, old-time country-lemonade film full of Sunday afternoon BBQ conversation, lots (and lots) of tasteful erotica (i.e., sexually uninteresting but easy on the eyes) and platitudes that I suspect looked a lot less platitudinous on the written page. It’s slow, but not boring; sweet but not precious; and engaging but not really that entertaining.
Chuck Klosterman once wrote, in describing his hatred of Coldplay, that Chris Martin’s band was a knock-off of Travis, which itself was a knock-off of Radiohead. I suppose you could say that Feast of Love is the Travis in that equation: It’s thoughtful, but not deep. Likable, but not grating. And while it’s not original or groundbreaking, it doesn’t bleat, “Look at the stars, look how they shine for you,” and tell you it’s profound, either. Indeed, if Feast of Love were a pop song, it’d be “Why Does it Always Rain on Me?” both in meaning and in tenor. And your iPod could do a helluva lot worse than that.
Dustin Rowles is the publisher of Pajiba. He lives with his wife and son in Ithaca, New York. You may email him, or leave a comment below.
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Comments
I have a lot of affection for Robert Benton due to Nobody's Fool, so I was interested to see this review. I appreciate that you decided to review it from the perspective of its director and intended audience; it's a gentle choice, which apparently goes with the mood of the movie.
Posted by: Louise at September 28, 2007 6:01 PM
Hey, at least Freeman gets laid in this one. If he plays another Asexual Negro I'm gonna call the coalition and have his card revoked!
Posted by: ciji at September 28, 2007 6:06 PM
What about Shawshank Redemption? Freeman was "the only guilty man in Shawshank," right? Presumably the murder weapon was not kindness. Though I'm not sure that really messes with the Saint Morgan thing.
Posted by: Sarah Loves Elvis at September 28, 2007 6:20 PM
Also, what about Nurse Betty? I think his character was kind of responsible for his kid's death. Maybe he's still feeling guilty.
Posted by: Girl with Curious Hair at September 28, 2007 6:50 PM
Wait, Freeman gets to have sexy time in a movie? Well, alright then! I'm there. I'm all for gentle porn...
Posted by: demondoll at September 28, 2007 6:51 PM
Hey, at least Freeman gets laid in this one. If he plays another Asexual Negro I'm gonna call the coalition and have his card revoked!
*Death by laughter*
Posted by: Daphne Wilson at September 28, 2007 7:24 PM
Hey, I liked Hard Rain! I liked how who you thought were the good guys actually turned out to be the bad guys, and vice versa. Plus you got Betty White playing a sour old bitch and cussing up a storm, which always amuses.
Posted by: june at September 28, 2007 7:41 PM
"...Thankfully, his best friend and a frequent patron of his coffee shop, Professor Harry Stevenson (Morgan Freeman), is a wizened moral com......PASS!
Posted by: BarbadoSlim at September 28, 2007 7:48 PM
Oh.
He does kinda bleat, doesn't he?
Posted by: that bees chick at September 28, 2007 7:53 PM
Oh damn. I thought it actually looked pleasant in the trailers, but it sounds more like "Playing By Heart". Another one to scratch off the list.
Posted by: citizen_cris at September 28, 2007 8:50 PM
I liked this book a lot....to be honest I was disappointed to see that it had become a movie.
Posted by: Finn at September 28, 2007 11:12 PM
Dustin, I love you for using that Klosterman quote, for years I've been trying to explain to people why I do in fact hate Coldplay, and now I have a succinct way of doing it.
I saw the previews for this movie and the guilty pleasure part of me really wants to see it, but the realistic part of me is still waiting for The Asassination of Jesse James... to come to Buffalo theaters.
I don't understand why we got Eastern Promises on opening weekend, but not that one.
Anyways, another comment: does anyone notice how Selma Blair is now the wife at the beginning of the picture, who leaves her husband and therefore sparks said man to self-actualization? It happened in In Good Company too.
Posted by: Rachael at September 29, 2007 11:03 AM
For quoting Sex, Drugs, And Cocoa Puffs, one of my absolute favourite books, you have earned my undying respect.
Posted by: Renee at September 30, 2007 9:23 AM
I was very disappointed to see that "Feast of Love" had become a film, because I felt that there would be very little hope that the magic (and yes, the book is magical) of the novel could be captured on film.
I see my feeling was astute.
Posted by: Brandy at September 30, 2007 8:22 PM
"...the caddish prick WHO she actually loves..."
Posted by: Zeeb at October 1, 2007 10:51 AM
"At 75-years-young, I'm not eager to despoil a great director's perfectly acceptable, inoffensive film with a bunch of punk-ass sarcasm."
Restrained and tasteful review, but I must take issue with the above sentence: unless you are indeed 75 years old, rearrange the order of your modifying phrase and subject, because as of now, 75-years-young is describing you. I'm only nitpicky because your writing is so consistently engaging, elegant and enjoyable.
But props on the restraint!
Posted by: Becca at October 1, 2007 10:56 AM
does it make me a jerk if i don't watch this movie simply based on the fact that the title "feast of love" is one of the lamest titles i've ever heard of?
Posted by: smash at October 1, 2007 12:13 PM
^5 Becca. I just assumed that Dustin had decided to write this review as if he were seventy-five years young because his reviews are "consistenetly engaging, elegant[,] and enjoyable" (in your beautifully alliterative phrase).
At the risk of beating a dead horse with the ugly stick: did you intend to write "as written" rather than "as of now"? As written, your sentence imposes a temporal frame that implicitly suggests that the stated condition will be changing soon, perhaps of its own volition.
Posted by: rudy at October 1, 2007 1:39 PM
It's so terrible that they moved this to some generic town from Ann Arbor. The city really is a character in the novel. To plunk this story somewhere else takes away so much of the life of the book.
As a member of the bourgeoisie, which is what I am, I live quietly in Ann Arbor, Michigan, a city of ghosts and mutterers. Everywhere you go in this town, you hear people muttering. Often this is brilliant muttering, tenurable muttering, but that is not my point. All these mini-vocalizations are the effect of the local university, the Amalgamated Education Corporation, as I call it, my employer. It is in the nature of universities to promote ideas that should not be put to use, whose glories must reside exclusively in the cranium.
Gorgeous.
Posted by: EJ at October 1, 2007 2:03 PM
Rudy-
Good point- "as written" more clearly describes my intent as well as the situation. Perhaps Dustin was adopting the vantage of a 75-year-old moviegoer (if that wasn't the case, perhaps a generational leap should be the next conceit employed by a Pajiba reviewer).
Posted by: becca at October 2, 2007 4:51 PM