When Casablanca comes to mind, you think of Rick and
Ilsa. When Wuthering Heights is
mentioned, you immediately think of Heathcliff and Cathy. When The Notebook is on, you’re immediately sucked into the trials and tribulations that surround
Noah and Allie. Great screen couples
all, the success of these films and the reason they’ve all become classics of
the romantic genre is because, thanks to passionate performances by all
involved, we’ve come to care for each of these characters. We hope they’ll find happiness because we
know they belong together, that no other man or woman, will make them as happy
as they would be as couple. It simply
is, what it is.
It’s a shame that the couple at the center of Lee Toland
Krieger’s The Age of Adaline will not go down as one of the great romantic
pairs in screen history because there’s quite a bit to like about the
movie. It succeeds in using magical
realism to cast a convincing romantic spell, features two great performances
and approaches the life of its title character in a unique, gripping
manner. What it lacks, however, is key
to the success of any romantic film and that’s chemistry between its two leads.
This proves to be Adaline’s fatal flaw, one it barely overcomes in its effort
to move us.
Featuring narration by actor Hugh Ross, who served a similar
function in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, the
film at times has a documentary feel to it, as if Kreiger wants us to approach
Adaline’s miraculous life from an analytical point of view. This attempt to find a logical explanation
for all that happens to our heroine, as well as make us detached observers,
couldn’t be more ironic as at their core, romantic films ask that we take things
on faith and believe in the miraculous.
After all, aren’t these the very elements of love itself?
Much like The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and The
Time Traveler’s Wife, this film asks that we believe in the notion that
everyday miracles occur but are overlooked or discarded because of our reliance
on logic and adherence to cynicism. Adaline’s (Blake Lively) story certainly
hinges on the miraculous as, at the age of 29 she’s involved in a freak
accident that involves a California snowstorm, a plunge into icy waters and a well-timed
bolt of lightening. No, it makes no
sense as to why these three occurrences would cause her to stop aging, (the
narrator assures us that a scientific breakthrough in 2035 will explain in all)
but there it is. When she can no longer
provide a logical explanation as to why her daughter and she look like sisters
instead of mother and child, and fearing she will be examined, probed and made
to feel freakish, she decides to change her identity and residence each decade
in order to avoid being singled out. She
avoids all emotional entanglements, watches her own child (Ellen Burstyn) grow
older than she will ever be and comes to terms with the notion she will forever
be alone. That is until she meets Ellis
(Michiel Huisman).
Lively’s beauty is of a peculiar sort: at once she’s a bit
masculine in looks but never less than sexy in her feminine demeanor. She’s strong yet vulnerable and has the
bearing of one of the great film stars of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She wouldn’t be out of place next to Bergman,
Crawford or Bacall, which makes her perfect for this role. She’s a bit of chameleon in this way, at home
in the smart fashions of the 1930’s and ‘40s, hip enough to pull off the
semi-mod look of the ‘60’s and comfortable with today’s more casual attire. She transcends fashion trends as well as
ever-shifting social mores, making us believe that Adaline has not only lived
over the course of a century but has weathered every shift in society with
class and aplomb. It’s a star-making turn
if there ever was one and Lively’s ability to make us care for this ridiculous
narrative construct is key to keeping us invested in the film.
Too bad she gets little help from Huisman who couldn’t have
been more miscast than he has here. The
actor lacks the gravitas necessary to make Ellis the sort of character we want
to see Adaline end up with. Unsure of himself, awkward and coming off as an
overgrown boy, from the start we know that he’s in over his head where our
heroine is concerned and we suspect she knows it too. Which begs the question – “Why does she
consider revealing her secret and sacrificing so much for this modern Ralph
Bellamy?” You got me, and therein lies
the flaw of the film.
Here’s hoping Huisman was taking notes from his co-star
Harrison Ford, who plays William, his father and one of Adaline’s past lovers
(small world, right?). Though he only
has a few scenes the actor gives one of his most moving performances as his
character attempts to come to terms with a painful memory he’d thought he’d put
in his past. Shaken, confused and heartbroken,
Ford’s so good here (like, Oscar good for Best Supporting Actor) you wish the
film would have taken another tact and focused instead on William and Adaline’s
relationship and the prospect of their rekindling their romance.
Instead, we’re left with Adaline and Ellis and like numerous
tragic lovers, we wonder about what might have been where The Age of Adaline is concerned. While I’d like to think this is a bit of Krieger’s wicked
irony at play, I know it’s just a gross miscalculation.
This article appears in Apr 23-29, 2015.
