When a Man Loves a Woman. - movie reviews

IS THERE anything rarer than an adult film coming out of America? A truly adult one, by, for, and about adults? There is one such now, and, surprisingly, it was co-written by the same Ronald Bass who has among his credits the dime-novelish The Joy Luck Club, and the trashy and unbelievable Sleeping with the Enemy. His co-author, Saturday Night Live's Al Franken, is apparently an able comedian (TV is not my beat), but the new film, When a Man Loves a Woman, is not a comedy, though it contains comic bits.

The very pre-title sequence, filmed in my favorite San Francisco hangout, the Buena Vista Cafe, is pretty damned funny, as two separate guys try to pick up Meg Ryan, who plays Alice Green; one unsuccessfully, the other (Andy Garcia) successfully, though with the weirdest technique in the world. And from there on in, the film simply flows, even though the credits of its Mexican director, Louis Mandoki (Born Yesterday, White Palace, and even the better Gaby--A True Story), are not all that impressive. It just goes to show that you never know what to expect in the mad, mad, mad world of movies.

Alice is a school counselor, though from what we see of that, she could as well be working in an ad agency; Michael, her husband, is a commerical pilot. They live in a nice San Francisco house (most of the film was shot in L.A.!) and have two daughters: Jess, circa eight, and Casey, circa six. They are cute, but not preternaturally so, and only the elder--Alice's child from a previous marriage--is especially pretty. They behave throughout with commendable realism, but the film, in any case, is about Alice, who is an alcoholic.

The two best things about Alice are that the cause of her alcoholism, though addressed, is not glibly explained, and that she is played by Meg Ryan. Miss Ryan, who has been getting better from film to film, was pretty irresistible in Sleepless in Seattle, but is even more enchanting here. She plays a woman who is both an absolute delight and, albeit a little less often, a perfect nightmare. She gets both across in the most natural way, and, without stinting on the horror of alcoholism, never loses our sympathy. To be sure, there is something very American here: a drunken mother slapping her innocent eight-year-old--hard, but only once--might not seem quite so cataclysmic an event in other parts of the world.

The film concentrates on the helplessness of Michael, whom Andy Garcia plays solidly and thoughtfully. Whatever he does turns out wrong because of Alice's defensiveness, which perceives concern as lack of trust, and discretion as indifference. It is a nowin situation, accurately portrayed in dialogue and action. You do feel the genuine love of these spouses for each other, but also their exasperation, whether with their partners or themselves. And, graphically, we get the effect of this on the little girls. Finally, Alice goes to a rehab clinic, her agony there sparingly but sufficiently shown, not least in the chain smoking it drives her to--a case, perhaps, of the cure being not much better than the sickness.

When she returns home, having gained a Pyrrhic victory over her affliction, her situation is not helped by having to fight tooth and nail against recidivism. Michael is now truly walking on eggshells. forgive my use of cliches here, but this marital predicament is a bit of a cliche, too, yet, honestly examined, still yields idiosyncratic and harrowing insights. Alice's unease, and his own having to go into complementary group therapy, combined with cutbacks at the airline that make his job precarious, eventually induce Michael to move to Denver, with Alice concurring. What comes of this separation you must find out for yourselves.

There are many fine touches here, such as Alice's forming a two-person support group with a young man who was a fellow patient at the clinic, which nevertheless arouses Michael's jealous suspicions. Or the way the need to protect the children as much as possible takes its toll on the parents' attempts to work out their own problems. Although there are some possibly too adorable scenes early on, the later ones--particularly the very mature and moving ending-deserve high praise. Perhaps the nicest thing is the film's ability to convey broader implications without hitting us over the head with them.

It should be added that Mr. Garcia's looks--half sensual, half ascetic--work very well, and that both little girls can truly act, Tina Majorino, the elder, remarkably so. Ellen Burstyn and others in the supporting cast are fine, and Meg Ryan, I repeat, should be declared a national treasure. Nor should the splendid contributions of Lajos Koltai, the Hungarian cinematographer, and Zbigniew Preisner, the Polish composer, be overlooked. When a Man Loves a Woman may not be for the ages, but it looks, sounds, and feels right. Nowadays--and perhaps anytime--that is quite a lot.

COPYRIGHT 1994 National Review, Inc.
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