Guy de Fraumeni’s Hollywood In The Hamptons

This retiring ol’ sentimental gentleman of swing is becoming increasingly grouchy with annoyances such as these two flicks that I thought I would like because of their women stars, but nevertheless, I am irked!

The irksome notes in Notes on a Scandal are not false, they are stridently discordant. They are so unsavory nails-scratched-on-a-blackboard, sort of Jerry Springer-Maury Povich set, that I feel the need of a cleansing hot bath. With the dumbed-down family comedy Because I Said So, its sappiness has me only need to wash my hands of it. Golden veteran Diane Keaton, gets tarnished as a divorced mother and finds herself meddling in her daughters’ love affairs. For fans of salacious melodramas of angry “girlfights” with ferociously talented actresses going at it, Notes on a Scandal has Cate Blanchett and Judi Dench, who make Bette Davis and Miriam Hopkins seem as playful as l’il puddy tats in a gossipy clash of jealousy, repression and obsession. It’s full of nasty spinster loneliness vs. a family woman pursuing illicit love.

The malignancy begins with Zoe Heller’s novel What Was She Thinking? a creepy satire with comic suspense that reminds us of the great psychological thriller writer Patricia Highsmith, who gave us 1950’s Strangers on a Train and 1999s The Talented Mr. Ripley (done better in the ‘60s as Purple Noon). Ms. Highsmith minutely examines the wound-up inner works of her taut characters to find out what makes them tick and get ticked-off enough to explode disastrously. On the contrary, the novelist and screenwriter, Patrick Marber, of Notes Of A Scandal, blatantly usurps the bent parts of the central human animals and flings them into a fan directed at the audience. The last time I felt so quashed was by his film adaptation from his play, Closer. Back then, I wasn’t sure a bath would help. So, though the performances by the experts Blanchett, and lapel-clenching Dench are dynamic and grasping, the film leaves you not wanting to put the bits and pieces of detonated flack back into some sense. The film itself does not climax at its clawing height. It simply folds into silence. Nary one tick is heard.

The kookish-bookish story takes place in North London in a multi-culti high school. The mainstay of its history department is Barbara (Dench), a self-described “battleaxe” spinster. She is also the chronicler of the comings and goings at St. George’s School. She’s a nosy-posy who etches her notations on paper with acidic pronouncements. In the new school year, a young attractive teacher gets into Barbara’s crosshairs. What a sight she is! Her name is Sheba (Blanchett) and she has an upper-class tone and a bit of bourgeois martyrdom. Her time-creased husband is Barbara’s age and one of her two children has Down’s syndrome. Regardless, Sheba’s artsy, art teacher vibe has started Barbara’s pulse vibrating, demanding much closer scrutiny. Then she suddenly discovers that Sheba is no saint. The diligent teacher has been instructing a 15-year-old student in the art of sex. The boy is obviously getting straight A’s and Barbara’s heart is beating in 3/4 time. She’s found the love of her life. You think? I don’t think so!

Seen in the cold light of reality, Sheba is a pedophile and could go to prison, which might be preferable to doing time with Dench’s Barbara. Just when Barbara thinks she has Sheba where she wants her (I can’t even think about it!) Sheba is seized by a fully-realized, uncloseted picture of Barbara – full length, full frontal and fully exposed. Dame Dench has created a Barbara as ogrish as a Grimm witch. Without makeup, her hair looks like a wormy scraggle and her jutting jaw lined with bulldog teeth. It is a portrait, as if done by Sheba with newly opened eyes. It’s an ugly study in dementia. Notes on a Scandal is touted as a comedy-drama, aka “wicked joshing,” and “the story’s inner conflicts may be our own.” Yech!

Most annoyingly described as pert or winsome, Mandy Moore loses more than she gains as Diane Keaton’s unmarried daughter. Looking as smart as ever, Ms. Keaton does the stupidest things to make sure Mandy marries the right man or, marries at all! Because I Said So is always Mom’s last word and no reason to be heeded. The movie is a tired stab at mediocrity. Never rising above a giggle, the other daughters fiddle on sour notes as two possible Mr. Rights are preyed upon by mother Diane. I refuse to incriminate the moviemakers and their pfumpfering cast. Why? Just “because.”

Guy-Jean de Fraumeni is the producer/writer/director of award-winning European and American feature films. He has been a judge at Major Film and TV award competitions, including the Oscars, the Emmy’s and various film festivals. Sarah Halsey assists him.