Last night, after pouring myself a glass of scotch and lighting an imaginary cigarette, I slipped Evening into my DVD player. Why did I want to watch this? Three reasons:1. An abysmal failure (Gigli, Glitter) is fun for its trainwreck appeal.
2. Was there chemistry between Hugh Dancy and Claire Danes since she left Billy Crudup for him? Answer: Not so much. In fact, he looks like a less twinkly Billy Crudup--though his British accent, I'm sure, is what convinced Claire to drop trou. She totally went to Yale and is all smart.
3. With such a talented female cast, you know one of the ladies will go batshit.
After an hour and a half of languid storytelling, I finally got my wish. Who else does better batshit moments than Glenn Close? When her son dies, she writhes, yells, convulses, and finally falls down. Yes, I started laughing. Just as I did during her batshit moments in Dangerous Liaisons and Fatal Attraction. Like, she's having the time of her life being crazy. I recommend the movie because of this and the precious scene where Meryl Streep and Vanessa Redgrave (reteaming after Julia, centuries before) are in bed together. Two legends sharing a mattress and being all actressy. For one second, I was hoping they would make out. Surely, that would have helped things.
Lesson learned: a fit of hysterics always livens things up. Examples: Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment, Mary Tyler Moore in a repressed twitch-tastic batshit moment via Ordinary People, Sally Field and Diane Keaton in everything, and Sigourney Weaver in Copycat.
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