Last night we went to see the James Gandolfini and Julia Louis Dreyfus in “Enough Said”. Everyone likes this film – it was highly recommended by several people. Rotten Tomatoes gives it a critics’ ranking of 96% and an audience ranking of 82%.
Well, if I were a critic, I’d be in the 4%, and as an audience member, I am in the 18%. Neither my wife, nor I, thought the movie worth seeing.
I must admit that it was a little spooky seeing Gandolfini in a film released after his so untimely death, although you did want him to slow down his eating a tad. Frankly, I was not impressed by the way he played this role. I liked Dreyfus’ (should it be Louis Dreyfus’?) portrayal much better (and she can eat whatever she wants).
You may know the general story outline (no spoiler here – there is so little to spoil). Dreyfus is a divorced single mother living somewhere in greater Los Angeles, who makes her living toting a heavy massage table from client to client. Gandolfini is a divorced single father, who works at a television film archive.
They meet each other at a large garden party. At the same party, Dreyfus meets a woman, a divorcee and a poet, who becomes her massage client and, more importantly perhaps, her friend.
Life seems good until the poet begins to complain about her ex-husband, and Dreyfus realizes she is talking about Gandolfini, who has become her friend and lover. She keeps this revelation to herself, until the inevitable day comes when they wind up at the same place.
That’s about it. Pretty shallow, you say? Pretty trite, you think? There must be more to it than that, you wonder?
That’s about it.