Okay, you've been officially warned. And, if you're a fan of Sally Field in her Oscar winning roles in "Norma Rae" and "Places in the Heart," you will hate her in this. You will really, really hate her.
"Hello, My Name is Doris" is one of those movies that has you leaving the theater with a nagging question. How the hell did this get made? There are some films where everything comes together right. Well, in this one, everything on the screen comes out wrong. The script is horrific. The direction is uneven. And the lead performance by the usually dependable Sally is a complete mess. If there's a wrong acting choice to take at a given moment, trust me, Sally makes it.
And this begs the question. When an actor clearly takes a role into the most unlikable direction possible, whose fault is it? The actor him or herself. Or the director, in this case, some hack named Michael Showalter. I mean, let's think about this. Sally Field, at some point during the production of this bowl of lumpy gravy, had to know she was in a mess. Did she ever stand up to the director and counter the counsel he was giving her? Or did she suck it up for the pay check? Maybe she's having a bathroom remodeled. I'm really curious to know just how much of this awful performance is really her fault. Those of you who think the worst thing that America is facing right now is a Donald Trump presidency have not seen this film. Indeed, the first person I would deport in a Trump regime is the director and writer of this sewage backup.
I guess I should give you a little bit of the plot as stupid as it is. Sally plays Doris, a Staten Island spinster whose mother just died. Doris has followed in Mom's slipper steps and is a bit of a hoarder. Indeed, her home looks like the set of "Sanford and Son." From the very first frame in her outlandish outfit, you know that Doris is clinically insane. And that means, from the very first frame, you hate this character. Immediately, the movie puts you in a minus $1000 hole on "Jeopardy."
More credibility is tossed in the trash when you discover that Doris is still working for a chic apparel company in Manhattan. Truth be told, anyone like Doris would have long since been shitcanned from a firm like this. Accepting her place in this environment is much akin to the viewer also making a deal to buy the Brooklyn Bridge on time payments.
It gets worse. Much, much, much worse. Doris inexplicably falls in unrequited love with the hot new art director who must be thirty years younger than her. We now take a brief detour into "Fatal Attraction" Land as she follows him around the city and stalks him on Facebook. Why Doris hasn't been locked up in Bellevue is a mystery.
This, my friends, is the main character that you are supposed to get invested in. Practically every scene of this film is so cringe worthy that you will never want to rubber neck at an auto accident on the side of the road. You've already seen the worst kind of carnage possible.
The lone positive in this ninety-minute travesty is Tyne Daly as Doris' friend, a woman raising her obnoxious granddaughter while her daughter is in prison. Daly is the only person grounded in any kind of reality. I wanted to see more of this interesting plot line because...well...at least it was interesting.
I cannot say enough bad things about "Hello, My Name is Doris." At some point, Sally Field will do something else that is noteworthy. But, compared to this abomination. binge watching a season of "The Flying Nun" is more promising.
LEN'S RATING: Zero stars!
Dinner last night: Leftover chicken and vegetables.
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