 One True Thing (1998) Actually, no one plays cancer, sadly, although the cast also features William Hurt as Streep's husband, and the always enjoyable James Eckhouse as "the District Attorney." In fact, it is Eckhouse we see first, grilling Zellweger about some mysterious event surrounding a tragedy for which Zellweger may or may not be responsible. Zellweger is at odds with her very family- and community-minded mother. She initially worships her father (Hurt), a respected professor and essayist who's been working on his novel for ages. When Hurt asks that Zellweger move back home from her high-pressure journalism career, she is forced to fill the role her ailing mother is increasingly unable to complete. Daunting it is, since Streep's character regularly does things like making a collage from broken plates and other extremely pointless pursuits (laundry, cleaning the toilet, etc.), Zellweger begins to appreciate her mother all the more, while scorning her father, who may or may not be a serial cheater and who is definitely a pompous blowhard. An overall ambiguity works greatly in the film's favor, since no one is ever exactly right or wrong. Everyone recognizes at some level the futility of their lives while still needing a sense of place. Both Zellweger and Hurt are adrift in their careers, unwilling to cut throats like the superstars but also unwilling to admit defeat – while Streep "knows her place," so to speak. She seems to feel that the truest sense of belonging comes not from what you do, but how you relate to your family and friends (not without some sacrifice). What works against the film is the suffocating nobility of it all, i.e., Streep's art is her family, and she suffers greatly for it, without recognition. She is a martyr for brazed salmon and pumpkin pie, and even when she is dying finds it painfully difficult to let loose, stir it up, get to the heart of the matter, and other Patti LaBelle song titles. At a time when she should be questioning what is the fricking point of crockery and loomcraft, she seems more upset that her boundless powers are beginning to ebb. If you want to look at it from a "mind/body" standpoint, she got cancer because she had no other way out of an essentially thankless and silent existence. But ultimately this is Zellweger's story, a modern-day coming of age or coming to terms with the female conflict between corporate ladder and … uh … step ladder (?). Zellweger does eventually come to terms with her mother, her father, and the various confusing parts within. Streep plays the mammy perfectly – she's technically brilliant without being cold or calculating. Zellweger is also strong, demonstrating more a range only hinted at in shit like Jerry Maguire. William Hurt plays the classic William Hurt character, the reserved and tortured genius who thinly disguises all the pain under a sheet of ice. It's good work, but the act is starting to unravel, as far as I'm concerned. Tom Everett Scott (American Werewolf in Paris) has a supporting role as "the brother," and he's also excellent, if unnecessary James Eckhouse, formerly of "90210," puts in a star turn as the sympathetic but duty-bound District Attorney. His rampant sexuality all but explodes on the screen in just a few scenes that tend to overwhelm the rest of the film, much to its benefit. A sly lift of the eyebrow, a knowing smirk … these are all he needs to convey oceans of emotions. His scenes with Zellweger encapsulate the passions of youth and the frustrations of middle age. Now seriously, he's not a bad actor at all. This is a pretty good film, but nothing to write mom about, even if she's dying of cancer. A kind of uplifting downer. Too much energy is spent at the end of the film explaining what happened and how – like the framing device in Saving Private Ryan, it's completely unnecessary and, despite good intentions, kills some of the film's impact and ambiguity. I walked away feeling good but not great, and rather quickly began to forget the details (which could also describe most of my increasingly anonymous sexual encounters).
Review by Crimedog |