As stuffed with fluff as any piece of taxidermy you're likely to encouter this side of Fiji, "Sweet November" is the quintessential teddy bear film. It wants to be all cute and cuddly and kind of squishy in the middle. Herman Rauscher's script-a document best handled at arm's length with a pair of forceps while wearing a gas mask-begins life as a screwball comedy. About halfway through it notices that it isn't very funny and decides to become "La Traviata" instead. Exactly when you're supposed to go all warm and fuzzy inside is announced in no uncertain tones by Michelle Legrand's score, which coagulates into syrup at the appropriate moments. It gives me heartburn.
Until such time as prohibited by international law, the ferry scene, when shown repeatedly for a matter of hours to the forcibly restrained viewer, could prove an invaluable asset to our intelligence services as a means of extracting testimony from uncooperative witnesses. It opens with the two lovebirds cooing over the New York Times crossword puzzle on board the ferry. In Charlie's edition he has scrawled Sara's name everywhere he can squeeze it in. Making goo-goo eyes at her, he reveals his solution to the puzzle, twittering, "A four-letter word for wonderful...Sara. A four-letter word for magnificent...Sara. A four letter word for..."etc. Before the camera pans, Sara is choking back tears and flinging her arms around Charlie accompanied by a crescendo of mushy music. As you watch the scene progress, it grows increasingly more difficult to overcome the impression that you are sinking into a pit of lukewarm oatmeal. The complexion turns green, the eyes roll back in their sockets, and the teeth begin to chatter. At this stage, it is imprerative to keep reminding yourself that you are NOT going to swallow your tongue. It is only a matter of time before the convulsions subside, free breathing is restored, and you can scream again. Coprophilia, infanticide, matricide, high treason, the Kennedy assassination, even-God save us-enjoying "The Jerry Springer Show"-it really makes no difference. After two hours of the ferry scene you'll confess to anything.
If it never soars on the wings of the dove, "Sweet November" never hits bottom either despite the soggy script. Buoyant performances by the cast, particularly the two lead actors, keep it afloat. Sandy Dennis (mostly teeth) redeems this strain of comedy as well as anyone and can produce two Tony awards won in similar roles as credentials. Her touch makes silly phrases like "hurry, hurry ding-ding" dance. Anthony Newley (mostly eyebrows) brings a gift for comedy and the ability to meld the pragmatic CEO and the mischievous imp with the sheepish grin into one character. At times Newley's eyebrows seem to be leading a life of their own. They rush up and down his forehead like two ferrets chasing a hare, occasionally leaping off his face altogether.
As the credits roll whether the taste left in your mouth is one of vibrant emotionality or cheesy sentimentality will be determined by your sweet tooth and tolerance for banality. If you like Debbie Reynolds, crave chocolate ice cream smothered in chocolate syrup, and can blubber your way through three boxes of Kleenex watching "Love Story"--this is your ticket. Close your eyes, click your heels together, and repeat three times, "There's no place like the perfume department at Nordstrom's." However, to the more sensitive soul, who reacts to the kind of verse found in flowery greeting cards by breaking out in hives, extreme caution is advised.
Until such time as prohibited by international law, the ferry scene, when shown repeatedly for a matter of hours to the forcibly restrained viewer, could prove an invaluable asset to our intelligence services as a means of extracting testimony from uncooperative witnesses. It opens with the two lovebirds cooing over the New York Times crossword puzzle on board the ferry. In Charlie's edition he has scrawled Sara's name everywhere he can squeeze it in. Making goo-goo eyes at her, he reveals his solution to the puzzle, twittering, "A four-letter word for wonderful...Sara. A four-letter word for magnificent...Sara. A four letter word for..."etc. Before the camera pans, Sara is choking back tears and flinging her arms around Charlie accompanied by a crescendo of mushy music. As you watch the scene progress, it grows increasingly more difficult to overcome the impression that you are sinking into a pit of lukewarm oatmeal. The complexion turns green, the eyes roll back in their sockets, and the teeth begin to chatter. At this stage, it is imprerative to keep reminding yourself that you are NOT going to swallow your tongue. It is only a matter of time before the convulsions subside, free breathing is restored, and you can scream again. Coprophilia, infanticide, matricide, high treason, the Kennedy assassination, even-God save us-enjoying "The Jerry Springer Show"-it really makes no difference. After two hours of the ferry scene you'll confess to anything.
If it never soars on the wings of the dove, "Sweet November" never hits bottom either despite the soggy script. Buoyant performances by the cast, particularly the two lead actors, keep it afloat. Sandy Dennis (mostly teeth) redeems this strain of comedy as well as anyone and can produce two Tony awards won in similar roles as credentials. Her touch makes silly phrases like "hurry, hurry ding-ding" dance. Anthony Newley (mostly eyebrows) brings a gift for comedy and the ability to meld the pragmatic CEO and the mischievous imp with the sheepish grin into one character. At times Newley's eyebrows seem to be leading a life of their own. They rush up and down his forehead like two ferrets chasing a hare, occasionally leaping off his face altogether.
As the credits roll whether the taste left in your mouth is one of vibrant emotionality or cheesy sentimentality will be determined by your sweet tooth and tolerance for banality. If you like Debbie Reynolds, crave chocolate ice cream smothered in chocolate syrup, and can blubber your way through three boxes of Kleenex watching "Love Story"--this is your ticket. Close your eyes, click your heels together, and repeat three times, "There's no place like the perfume department at Nordstrom's." However, to the more sensitive soul, who reacts to the kind of verse found in flowery greeting cards by breaking out in hives, extreme caution is advised.