Enough Said Indeed

I really, really was looking forward to "Enough Said."   It had all the earmarks of a great movie experience.

Top notch cast featuring James Gandolfini in one of his last roles before his untimely death.

An adult romantic comedy that, for once, didn't feature the likes of Justin Timberlake and the dependably detestable Katherine Heigl.

It came from a veteran director named Nicole Holofcener who did a lot of "Sex and the City" episodes.

It was set in West LA where I reside.

Yep, I was anxious to see "Enough Said."

So I guess you know what all this build-up is leading to.

I didn't love "Enough Said."

But, wait, I didn't hate "Enough Said."

I was somewhere in between those two extreme emotions.  If the Motion Picture Academy ever rewards a film for creating complete ambivalence, well, then, I have found the first winner.

Boy, oh, boy, do I wish this had been better.  After all, it set up well.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus plays a 50-ish Santa Monica massage therapist.  She's got a daughter headed to college, the product of a former marriage that should never have happened in the first place.  Julia moves from client to client, from massage to massage.  She's reasonably content and really not looking for romance.

Of course, she goes to one of those smart Westside cocktail parties that I only hear about and makes two, count 'em, two connections.  One is a new client, a loopy poet played by Catherine Keener.  The other is a prospective new boyfriend, a cuddly teddy bear of a television archivist played with amazing warmth and restraint by Gandolfini.  Of course, as sooner as Keener has her first climb up onto that massage table and starts bitching about her ex-husband, you know what the big plot twist is.  If you don't see this coming, you're the Stevie Wonder of the local multiplex.

The friendship with Keener feels real.  The romance with Gandolfini feels organic and warm.  You get wrapped up in Dreyfus' relationships with both.  But, when the script device kicks in, there is cinematic sabotage of their characters.  When that moment happens, you will either hate Julia or love her.  There is no middle ground.  If it's the latter, you carry on merrily to the end of the movie.  If it's the former, you want to head out to the lobby and count the number of popcorn kernels on the floor.

Meanwhile, I fell smackly in the middle with a sudden case of "I don't give a shit"-itis.  All the good writing and character development left me stranded in the middle of a movie that I had high hopes for.  And when you're turning off your captive audience mid-film, you really have messed up your movie.

So, left high and dry by director Holofcener, I could only spend the last half of the movie feeling sad every time James Gandolfini was on screen.  Here was truly a versatile actor and, putting his own life and family aside, we are totally cheated by not having him around for another twenty or thirty years.  When you think about what you used to see as Tony Soprano and contrast it to his character in "Enough Said," you discover that Gandolfini was a true magician.

For him alone, I would tell you to see "Enough Said."  But, then again, that's not enough of a reason to sit through an incredibly disappointing film.  Gee, I'm torn.  I don't know what to tell you.

And that's "Enough Said" to a tee.

LEN'S RATING:  Two stars.  Maybe.  Or maybe not.

Dinner last night:  Bratwurst burger.