PG13 | Rottentomatoes.com Rating:71% | 2008 |
(At least 10 uses of the "S" word, several other mild profanities, religious exclamations) | Picky Flicks Quote: "The chemistry between Hoffman and Thompson is wry, warm and just prickly enough." -Donald Munro, Fresno Bee | RUNTIME:1 hr. 32 min. |
Visit:www.screenit.com for complete details | Movie Mood:  Old-School |
Okay, I have to begin this review with, what is for me, a rather large caveat. After all, Picky Flicks works on the premise that a movie with gratuitous cursing, sex, violence, etc., no matter how well made otherwise, doesn’t make the cut. So, let me say that, while I recommend this movie, I’m not wild about its overutilization of the “S” word. That’s not to say that it permeates the movie’s dialogue (although there is a brief portion of a conversation where I wanted to shout, “New word, please!”).
I would like to point out though, that, while it annoyed me and was completely out of step with the rest of the movie, it also comprises the only objectionable content in the entire film, which is, otherwise, altogether amiable and good. Which is why I am telling you, the next time you’re in the movie mood, to take a chance on Last Chance Harvey instead of, say, Hotel For Dogs or anything that involves two former best friends surreptitiously dyeing different parts of each other’s anatomy various rainbow hues in an attempt to secure a wedding date at the Ritz. Because, of course, all women are like that.
The titular Harvey (Dustin Hoffman) is a bit of a sad sack, really. He’s on his way to London to attend his daughter’s wedding as a guest more than a participant because that’s what he’s been in her life as well. It’s Brian, her step-dad, who’s really been there for her. And it’s Brian, Harvey’s daughter ruefully tells him, who will be giving her away at the ceremony. Harvey’s ex-wife, Jean, isn’t exactly going to let him forget that he’s been a bit of a shoddy husband and father either. Oh, and did I happen to mention that he gets sacked from his job as a commercial jingle writer over the phone?
And then there’s just that whole thing about his not being a super-likable person to begin with.
You see, Harvey is a bit self-involved, a bit too focused on his own needs to care much about little worlds of pain, disappointment, joy, loneliness, whateverness that anyone else around him might be experiencing. Take, for example, the anyone else that is Kate (Emma Thompson), manager of something-or-other at London’s Heathrow Airport. It’s a lackluster job, which requires her to survey harried passengers about their experiences in the airport. More often than not, they brush past her, annoyed that they’re forced to even slow down for such a nuisance. In fact, Harvey blows by Kate like a little tornado (Hoffman’s not a tall man…at all), huffy that she hasn’t noticed that he’s “tired, you know?” “I know,” she says, and he pauses for a millisecond to consider his rude behavior.
It’s only later, after he’s missed the flight he was desperate to get on instead of staying for his daughter’s reception, that he has no choice but to stop churning those stubby little legs of his and sit down and think. And who does he find next to him at the airport café but Kate, the quiet survey-taker, who’s just endured an unfortunate blind date the night before and would like nothing more than to escape into the pages of her romance novel. If only the strange little man in the table over would stop harassing her with his whining about his (insert adjectival form of the movie’s favorite curse-word) day. “Good book?” he persists. “It would be if I could finish it,” she snaps.
He likes her forthrightness. She likes…I don’t know. Honestly, while the movie has a wonderful verisimilitude to its dialogue and unforced interactions, my biggest sticking point is with Kate’s succumbing to Harvey’s dubious charms. He improves as the movie goes on, but he’s really just a bulldog, and, after the initial recoiling, she doesn’t seem to mind. After all, when your own mother is the only person who calls your cell phone (and every five minutes at that) needing to know what’s new in your life because she can’t bear to be alone, a bushy-haired, gravelly-voiced short guy who just won’t go away might start to seem appealing.
The movie inevitably begs comparison to similar, “Let’s get to know each other in a day as we traverse a famous city’s streets doing everyday things,” films such as Before Sunrise (you practically can’t read a review of Last Chance Harvey without someone pointing that out, so I guess I’ll throw my hat in that crowded ring). But it has one notable aberration that sets it apart from other quirky, “true-to-life” romantic comedies (and certainly from your average, garden-variety Hollywood romantic comedy): The leads are neither young nor attractive.
I found this refreshing. Their lack of comeliness left me free to listen to their words and watch their facial expressions (which roam abundantly across their botox-free faces). And that is where the true enjoyment in Last Chance Harvey lies—in the quiet asides and the stolen glances, the tentative smiles and sighs of relief that there just might be hope for love for “someone like me” yet.
Until next Wednesday, stay picky. Your mind will thank you later!
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