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Something’s Gotta Give

Review by: Jennifer Krieger Jennifer Krieger@TheCinemaSource.com

While Nancy Meyers was writing the screenplay for Something's Gotta Give The New York Times Magazine published an essay she wrote in its "Lives" section. The essay was about being left by her husband for a woman who was many years younger. The tone of the piece was hurt and slightly vindictive; she had been wronged and she wanted revenge. Perhaps Something's Gotta Give is that revenge.

For Meyers, the chance to parade Jack Nicholson's flabby backside repeatedly, to make Viagra jokes and to have Diane Keaton being furiously wooed by Keanu Reeves eases the pain a bit. By making men look like raging idiots, by showcasing their misguided propensity for younger women, when their real soul-mates are right there in front of them, solidly in their same age group, Meyers is settling the score. The irony is that her thinly-veiled autobiographical protagonist Erica Barry is played by the remarkably well-preserved, 57 year-old Diane Keaton and her sleaze of a husband is embodied, in all his cad-like glory, by the 67 year-old Jack Nicholson. Even the revenge fantasy of the spurned wife is skewed to meet Hollywood standards.

Even without the age gap, the message of this film is unclear; if Meyers meant to be delivering an ode to the beauty, both intellectual and physical of older women, why does Jack Nicholson reel and gasp in horror at the sight of Diane Keaton's naked body? If she meant to imply that older women can be just as sexually fulfilling as a younger one, why does Diane Keaton insist on taking Nicholson's pulse mid-way through their first sexual forey.

Luckily Meyers stop short at asserting the universal blandness of the younger woman, As Erica Barry's (Keaton) daughter, Amanda Peet's Marin is a revelation, a unique and truthful mixture of insecurity and self-assurance, neurosis and languid confidence. Her relationship with her mother is so tension-free that it borders on absurd; a blatant projection of the director's ideal for a mother-daughter bond, so strong even thorny reality can not break it. Reeves too, is surprisingly good as Julian Mercer, Harry's (Nicholson) Doctor his blasé delivery and stoned-out expression makes him believable, if not as a doctor, then as a young man off-beat enough to fall head-over-heels for a woman 20 years older then him.

The appeal of the two younger stars is due largely to their ability to coast along with the story-line, reacting too, rather then inciting the action. Frances McDormand, as the prerequisite feminist-cheerleader-best-friend Zoe Barry is given similarly less to do and is all the better because of it. The full weight of propelling the story falls on the shoulders of Keaton and Nicholson, and at times they pull it off. The scenes on the

beach (despite the onslaught of some terrible computer-generated rain) are rather charming. The development of their relationship from foes to friends to something more moves along at a nice clip; the growth of the mutual interest, admiration and respect between two people who have lived drastically different, yet equally interesting lives is rendered believably. Their eventual move to lovers is wincingly handled, and their instant messenger flirtations are superfluous, yet there is a distinct chemistry between Nicholson and Keaton, yet they seem most comfortable in the good-friends, pre-lovers segment of the trajectory of their relationship.

When the film really goes awry is when Nicholson, still determined to fulfill Meyers' conception of the eternal bachelor, abandons Keaton, and she can only think of one appropriate reaction: crying. And so she proceeds to cry, and cry, and at this point the movie begins to be wearisome affair. The audience knows Jack and Diane are destined to end up together, we just need to get through the requisite tear-filled scenes where she spies Jack with another woman, writes a Pygmalion-like play to get back at him, and shows up glowing and gorgeous with another man to show him the error of his ways. And the implication that, with all her intelligence and emotional resources, the only way Keaton can think to cope is by crying is a directorial cop-out.

Something's Gotta Give won Keaton a Golden Globe and has been described as the perfect 'bookend' to her performance in Annie Hall. And she is similarly charming in both movies. Nicholson too deserves credit for rising above Meyers' attempts to place him in humiliating situations to work out her own issues. If Keaton's performance fails to measure up to that of Annie Hall, it is not her own fault, but due to the simple fact that Woody Allen knew how to project his insecurities, neurosis and failings on screen without sacrificing the dignity if his actors; he knew when to step back and let them bring their own layers to the role. Meyers, with her crystal-clear agenda and obsessively controlling directorial touch does not possess that knowledge. She is too determined that her audience sees her side of the story and she loses our sympathy for it.