Travel to the Nearest Video Store to Get Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Working in a bookstore, I’m usually pretty up on what books are especially popular with each demographic. Within the young adult section, very few titles have done so well lately as Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and its sequels. I didn’t really know much about the book, however, until the movie came out. Around the same time, my friend read the book, and she heartily recommended it, and we decided it would be a great movie to go see together sometime. That “sometime” finally arrived a couple weeks ago, when the film hit video stores. At a mild PG, it’s a teen flick that celebrates friendship and family, making it an ideal pick for sleepovers or family film nights.

When I was in elementary school, I used to read a series of books entitled Friends 4-Ever. Each volume consisted largely of the correspondences of four friends to one another. Each of them picked out special stationery and wrote letters that they signed with clever phrases beginning with “Yours till the…” This film reminds me of that series with its focus on four lifelong friends who have been separated from one another but keep one another close through the mail. But their secret lies not just in writing to one another. When they find a pair of jeans that mysteriously fits each of them perfectly, they decide to share the pants, wearing them for a week before sending them off to the next lucky recipient. Whoever has the pants will have a little piece of her friends with her, and they will hopefully bring good fortune.

The girls in question are Carmen (America Ferrera), Bridget (Blake Lively), Lena (Alexis Bledel) and Tibby (Amber Tamblyn). The movie is almost four separate movies as it cuts from one girl to the next, developing four very different stories. The pants provide a common element, and each of the girls has at least one voice-over in the form of the letter accompanying the magical garment.

Carmen, who provides narration at the beginning of the film in which she introduces us to the group, is an aspiring writer of Puerto Rican descent. Her father (Bradley Whitford) left her and her mother six years earlier, and she has seen him only a few times since, so she is thrilled at the prospect of spending an entire summer with him in his home. The vacation quickly turns sour, however, when he surprises her with his new suburban life in a development – with a new family to go with it. Lydia (Nancy Travis) and her teenage children, Paul (Kyle Schmid) and Krista (Emily Tennant), strike Carmen as some sort of eerie Barbie-doll family, particularly the way-too-perky mother-daughter twosome. Paul, meanwhile, scarcely says a word throughout her visit. As plans for the upcoming wedding proceed, Carmen grows more and more uncomfortable, feeling as though she has been replaced and has no part in this new life her father has constructed for himself. Of the four stories, hers strikes me as the most depressing, and though the film leaves us with some resolution, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last.

Bridget is by far my least favorite of the four, and I wouldn’t have complained if her part of the film had been excised entirely. Her character never appealed to me at all until a moment toward the end in which she reminisces about a treasured moment with her mother, who committed suicide. (With Tamblyn in the film, I couldn’t help but draw lots of Joan of Arcadia connections, and I found it interesting that this character’s backstory was so similar to that of Adam Rove, Joan’s sometime boyfriend, though the two characters react to their mothers’ suicides in almost opposite ways.) It seems I should feel sorry for Bridget because of what she’s been through, but I don’t. I find her actions, particularly at soccer camp, obnoxious and overbearing, and her friends’ descriptions of her don’t really seem to match up with what I see on the screen. But she is loyal to her trio of buddies, and they stand by her when several weeks of flirtation with soccer coach Eric (Mike Vogel) lead to a gnawing emptiness that threatens to consume her upon her arrival back home.

Lena, in contrast to Bridget, is a shrinking violet. Sweet and quiet, she sees her vacation in sun-soaked Greece as an opportunity to spend quality time with her grandparents, gregarious Yia Yia (Maria Konstadarou) and taciturn Papou (George Touliatos), and draw idyllic locales. When hunky, free-spirited Kostos (Michael Rady) takes a shine to her, she isn’t sure what to make of his affections, particularly when she learns a Romeo and Juliet-style animosity exists between her family and his. I would say of the four stories, hers is the happiest, which was rather gratifying since she reminds me so much of myself. She also undergoes a significant change in her way of looking at the world that still leaves her integrity uncompromised.

Aside from a general interest in the story, what really drew me to Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants was Amber Tamblyn, particularly after I learned that my favorite show was axed by Les “Let’s Skew Younger” Moonves. Never mind that a majority of the major characters in Joan of Arcadia were teenagers… Anyway, she did a brilliant job on that show, so I was eager to see what she would be like in this film. Oddly enough, blue-haired, angsty-documentary-making Tibby’s a lot like Joan: sarcastic, pouty, but ultimately good-hearted and open to a life-changing encounter with another individual. While on the surface the friendship she unwittingly cultivates with an eccentric 12-year-old (Jenna Boyd) is reminiscent of Joan’s relationship with death-obsessed young Rocky, like God in all his various forms on the show, young Bailey helps the jaded Tibby to see the promising possibilities inherent in each individual. Ironically, though Tibby is the only one of the four to stay home all summer, it is she who undergoes change at the deepest level, and I found her story easily the most moving of the four, inspiring and heart-wrenching.

The film celebrates the power of friendship and its ability to endure, and even be strengthened by, distances. The girls are very different, and apart from one another they shine in ways they would not have as part of the group, much as Merry and Pippin come into their own when they are finally separated from one another for a time in Return of the King. But when they are reunited, the bond is more solid than ever. There is very little in this film that could be deemed offensive, and the only story line that strays ever so subtly into more PG-13 territory is Bridget’s. Much is left to the viewer’s imagination, however, so there’s nothing to be particularly concerned about. A fine film for friends, for mothers and daughters, for anyone looking for a wholesome, thoughtful movie, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is well worth a trip to the video store.

13 Going on 30 Isn't Big, But It Is a Big Success

I have been renting a lot of very good movies lately. Am I just in a really good mood, such that even From Justin to Kelly would look amazing to me were I watching it for the first time? Have I developed an especially keen eye for movies? Is it just that a lot of good ones have landed on the shelves within the last couple years? I don’t know what the answer is. I do know that as soon as I watched 13 Going on 30, I declared it one of the sweetest movies I’d ever seen, and I was more than happy to have a reprise viewing the next day with my brother. I liked it enough to draw favorable comparisons with several other excellent movies, whose titles I will mention later. It carried me away so fully that when my mom suggested I really ought to give the film a lower rating than Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, which we’d also rented, I balked. I expected I probably would find it mildly entertaining, with plenty of amusing moments, most of which hopefully would not earn the PG-13 rating. I did not expect to see a film of such incredible sweetness, and I’ve been savoring it all week.

The film begins in the 80s, where Jenna (Christa Allen) is quickly introduced as an awkward girl on the cusp of her teen years desperate to be embraced by the Six Chicks, a stereotypical group of blonde, pencil-thin, snotty clones. While Matty (Sean Marquette), her next-door neighbor and best friend, endeavors to make her birthday a truly special and memorable experience, Jenna is much more interested in having the Six Chicks – led by a first-class brat named Lucy (Alexandra Kyle) – and dreamy jock Chris (Alex Black) at her party. Already loaded with teen angst, she pores over Poise, her favorite magazine, longing to be "30 and flirty and thriving.” When a party gone predictably askew meets thoughtful Matty’s wishing dust, Jenna is off for the adventure of a lifetime and an incredible lesson in regret and appreciation for the things that are truly important.

When I first saw previews for this film, I thought, “Aha, a rip-off on Big.” Only difference is that it’s a girl this time. But in truth, while both films feature adults splendidly portraying children suddenly thrust into adult bodies and responsibilities, this film has far more in common ultimately with the long line of movies about unpopular people suddenly getting everything they always dreamed of, only to discover that what they had in the first place was far more fulfilling. Big was a coming-of-age story of sorts, or coming to realize that it is best to relish one’s current age rather than rushing on toward a supposedly grander time. 13 Going on 30 is much more about relationships and wrong turns.

Unlike Josh, Tom Hanks’ character in Big, Jenna is catapulted 17 years into the future, where she has more than half a life worth of history of which she has no knowledge. She’s living in a ritzy apartment, dating a hockey star (Samuel Ball) who's more than a little hot on himself, schmoozing with the husband (Ian Barford) of a co-worker, working as an editor at the magazine she loves so much. She’s a gorgeous woman on the outside, but from everything she gathers, she has been vile on the inside for quite some time. Lucy (Judy Greer) is now her “best friend,” if such a term can fairly be applied to anyone so self-absorbed and callous, and Matty (Mark Ruffalo) hasn’t spoken to her in years, once she made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Like the clueless caterpillars in Hope for the Flowers, she’s been willing to destroy anyone and everyone in her rise to the top, and most of her associates cower when she comes near, while her parents have long since ceased to expect her to take an interest in their affairs.

Jenna is shocked to discover the person she has become. Thrilled as she is by her chic frame, ultra-cool friend and dream job, she is lost and frightened in an unfamiliar world. She can’t even turn to her parents for help, as they are off on a cruise. Her only possible crutch is Matty, and she finds herself relying on him increasingly. Though he is perplexed by her sudden reappearance in his life, he is all too happy to spend a few precious days with his long lost friend before his upcoming marriage relocates him to Chicago with a woman whose affections seem increasingly unsatisfactory. Ultimately he is the heart of the film, the window through which Jenna realizes just how badly she went wrong, or will go wrong if she goes back to being 13 and continues on the path where she was heading.

There are several striking performances in this film. The standout, of course, is Jennifer Garner, who is so utterly vivacious and infectious as the geeky teen trapped in a gorgeous woman’s body that we forgive her all her faults committed while she still looked the part of an adolescent. Allen is far less affecting; she’s a little heavy-handed with her teen drama, and all I can think throughout the bulk of the film’s first scenes in, “You moron! What is the matter with you?” I’m blessed, I guess, to never have experienced the intense desire for popularity. I never much cared about fitting in with any crowd, glitzy or not. It’s angering for me to see all these girls in films treating their parents and their real friends like dirt while chasing after some unsubstantiated goal. Garner’s Jenna is sweet, expressive and sincere, and we wonder how such a wonderful person could evolve into such a jerk and fervently hope that this fate can be avoided when she inevitably returns to her rightful place in the world.

Matt stands out in both his incarnations. Though we don’t see a whole lot of him, it’s Marquette who really moves me, reminding me of both the loyal (and pudgy) Samwise Gamgee and sensitive, artsy Adam Rove from Joan of Arcadia. I later discovered there’s another reason for the latter; he’s the little brother of Christopher Marquette, who plays (or, rather, played) Joan’s eccentric boyfriend. You couldn’t ask for a better best friend, and while he acts casual, it’s clear that he adores Jenna and nothing would make him happier than to have her look at him the way she looks at Chris. Ruffalo takes on the adult role that occupies most of the film, and he too is beyond sweet. Now that they’re adults and Jenna begins to discover the chill of the world she’s chosen for herself, she clings to the warmth of the friend she never properly appreciated. My favorite quote from The Princess Diaries – “You saw me when I was invisible” – would be an extraordinarily appropriate thing for her to say to her once-rejected pal. Yet even as Jenna’s presence awakens in Matt feelings he has not experienced in years, like Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility, he is too honorable to break off an engagement, even if the cost is his happiness.

Kyle’s physical similarity to Greer is remarkable. Both are most effective in portraying the despicable Lucy. Could her name be short for Lucifer? When we realize that this is what Jenna could have become, the impact is alarming. Though Matt’s fiance Wendy (Lynn Collins) seems like a nice enough person, her sweet facade barely conceals the fact that she feels incredibly threatened by Jenna’s reemergence. While she’s hardly as obnoxious as Mel, Niles’ witchy wife for a season or so of Frasier, I can’t help but make the comparison, and it makes me wonder how, even thinking that Jenna is forever out of reach, Matt could marry someone so entirely different, so devoid of the passion and compatibility distinguishing his most treasured relationship. Her iciness shines through on a few occasions, such as when she corrects Matt’s use of the word “anchorwoman” with “anchorperson” and, with a condescending laugh, responds to Jenna’s remark that she doesn’t know what she would have done without Matt with, “I’m sure you’ll be just fine!”

Of course, not all the women Jenna encounters in her new life are so unpleasant. After she’s begun to settle into her new life, though with limited success, she seeks solace in the arms of her mother (Kathy Baker), whose maternal instincts remain sharp as ever. All is forgiven when Jenna returns home; we’re even treated to scenes of Jenna crawling into bed next to her and eating smiley-face pancakes she has prepared. She finds a new friend in Becky (Renee Olstead), a 13-year-old who lives in the building. They can discuss teen things together, and she is far more comfortable with this good-natured, average girl than with Lucy. In the workplace, she has an ally in her assistant Arlene (Marcia DeBonis), who is cowed and harassed-looking at the beginning but loosens up and becomes increasingly joyous as she discovers that overnight, Jenna has changed fundamentally into a decent person. The gentle comic moments involving her enhance the workplace scenes considerably.

Oh, and I can’t forget Andy Serkis. One thing that drew me to this movie was the opportunity to see Serkis in a regular acting role, as an ordinary person, wearing a suit instead of a loincloth and carrying a briefcase instead of a fish. As Richard, Jenna’s boss, he is delightful, a flamboyant, frazzled, fatherly presence who calls to mind Fezziwig from A Christmas Carol. When he’s not busy having a nervous breakdown, he’s a very fun person to have around. Though his humor is dry, his heart is warm, and his voice is so deep it’s easy to put the raspy Gollum out of mind – that is, until you see the exact same expression of elation on his face that the former hobbit wore whenever he got near the Ring.

I like this movie. A lot. I like just about everything about it, and I really don’t care if there are several other movies in which the main character comes to his or her senses, discovering a misplaced sense of priorities and reawakening appreciation for true friends and simple pleasures. I rented 13 Going on 30 looking for a laugh. I found a lot more. Perhaps true love and fulfillment are still possible in this cynical day and age, and perhaps we needn’t pursue them so relentlessly. We need only remain true to our better natures and to those who truly care about us, and the rest will fall into place.

A Curious Correspondence and a Dashing Stranger

When, after great anticipation, I finally watched Finding Neverland, I was treated to a preview for a movie I’d never heard of. Entitled Dear Frankie, it was a Scottish film about a deaf boy who corresponds continually with his sailor father – or so he thinks. The letters are actually written by his mother, who is trying to protect him from the fact that his father is in reality an enraged jerk from whom she continues to flee, and eventually she decides to cement the illusion by hiring someone to portray the boy’s father for a day. The premise intrigued me, and the fact that it was Scottish did not hurt one bit. As I’ve said on so many other occasions, I could listen to a Scot talk all day.

Anyway, I thought it sounded like an interesting movie, but I didn’t hear any more about it until I went to the video store last week and saw it among the new releases. We were out in search of chick flicks, and though this didn’t look like it fit the description precisely, it seemed a good prospect. We watched The Prince and Me the first night and Dear Frankie the last night of our rental, and we wound up two for two. We should rent movies more often.

The look of the film is lovely, particularly in scenes when Frankie (Jack McElhone) goes out to look out over the bay and we’re treated to grand views of surrounding moors. Within the city, there is grittiness; Frankie’s family is poor, and while they’re not exactly in the slums, they’re certainly on the lower end of the middle class spectrum. Frankie is an intelligent and affectionate child doted on by his mother Lizzie (Emily Mortimer) and, to a lesser extent, his grandmother (Mary Riggans), who knows and disapproves of Lizzie’s trickery. It’s a bit like going to extraordinary lengths to convince your child to believe in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus, and the longer the ruse continues, the more painful ultimate revelation will be. But beyond Lizzie’s desire to protect her son is an ulterior motive: because he does not speak, receiving Frankie’s letters is the only way she can hear her son’s voice.

Lizzie finds a confidante in Marie (Sharon Small), a sprightly woman who convinces her to come work with her at a nearby restaurant. Frankie has trouble adjusting to his class but finds a kindred spirit in Catriona (Jayd Johnson), a friendly girl who happens to know sign language. Less congenial is Ricky (Sean Brown), who antagonizes Frankie and makes a bet with him that his dad will not stop to see him when his boat docks in town for a few days. When Lizzie learns of the bet – and the boat, whose name she had adopted for the fictional boat from which Frankie’s dad writes – she is distraught and embarks on an intimidating search for a man who will agree to be Frankie’s father for a day. Complicating matters is the fact that Frankie’s real father has fallen terminally ill and is desperately searching for the family that fled him in order to make amends before the end.

In the end, it’s Marie to the rescue, furnishing out of thin air a man with, as Marie requests, “no past, no present and no future.” And yet strangely possessing all the qualities she wishes existed in Frankie’s real father. Gerard Butler, known to me as the Phantom from the recent film version of Lloyd Weber’s masterpiece, is the stranger, a quietly intuitive man who seems to know just what Frankie needs. The man and boy bond so quickly that it’s easy to forget they are not actually related, and you wonder at the marvelous luck that allowed Lizzie to find such an incredibly gentle and generous man to give her boy the thrill of a lifetime.

The truth of Frankie’s past is the darkest part of the film, and Butler is truly heartbreaking as his character reacts to Lizzie’s admission that Frankie’s father beat him into deafness as an infant. But in the present day, there is pervasive warmth and tenderness, and that is what remains at the conclusion of the film in spite of the realizations that precede it. Americans may have to pay extra close attention in order to comprehend the accents, but the dialogue is worth the extra effort, and the tones are melodious as always. There are a few profanities thrown about, but these are rare, and there’s really very little in the film to render it inappropriate for younger audiences. Dear Frankie is a fine family film with just a touch of fairy dust thrown in to make it fly.

Fairy Tale Meets Reality in The Prince and Me

I am a sucker for sappy movies. I’ll just say that up front. Thought-provoking is fine, but movies that tug at my heart strings are more likely to win me over completely. So when my mom and I went looking for a couple movies to rent recently, my eyes settled upon The Prince and Me, and when we finished watching it, I heaved the sort of happy sigh brought on by warm fuzzies. In other words, I approved.

I did a bit of searching after the movie was over and found it had been panned by critics and general audiences alike. I had to admit it was derivative, containing echoes of Coming to America, Son-In-Law and The Princess Diaries, among others. But that didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the film. In fact, I would say it was one of the sweetest movies of its genre that I have seen. With its PG rating, it manages to be almost entirely inoffensive. There were a few times when I feared it might be heading into PG-13 territory, but these scenes always were cut short before any real impropriety could occur.

The basic story is an old one. A privileged boy used to being fawned over goes incognito and falls for a girl who initially hates him. The animosity breeds passion that will eventually be refocused as they get to know one another better and discover that they actually enjoy spending time together. The boy in question is Prince Edvard (Luke Mably), whose early scenes indicate that he is a reckless, sophomoric playboy. His motivation for attending a university in the United States is a commercial he saw for a video featuring wild American college girls. He covers this up well in his explanation to his parents, but his laconic lackey Soren (Ben Miller) knows the truth and seems both amused and gratified by the fact that reserved, focused Paige Morgan (Julia Stiles) refuses to give Eddie the time of day.

The two are thrown into association with one another. They are lab partners and co-workers at the student eatery. Eddie is thrust into collegiate life, learning how it feels to be an ordinary student struggling to get by. He is humbled by the valuable life experience he gains, and his party boy demeanor dissipates surprisingly quickly. Meanwhile, he helps Paige to loosen up and have a little fun while also encouraging her to give her heart the attention she generally reserves for her mind. The seeds of romance are planted, and they begin to blossom as Eddie assists Paige in appreciating Shakespeare and Paige shows Eddie the joys of farm life back home. All the while, his true identity is hidden, but it must emerge at some point, and when it does, both of them have choices to make. It plays out in largely fairy tale fashion, but there’s enough reality in there to make us believe it could actually happen, enough chemistry between the leads that we actually want it to.

Stiles has impressed me wherever I’ve seen her, and this film is no exception. She starts out so hardened, unable to really embrace life, and slowly drops her defenses. In moments when Paige allows herself some vulnerability, Stiles is radiant. Mably is a newcomer who I expect we’ll be seeing more of. For a start, he’s in the sequel – though I’m a bit leery of that, since two of the major characters – one of them Paige – are played by different actors the second time around. At any rate, though, he starts out seeming a rogue and grows increasingly uncertain, and his charm increases spectacularly in these moments. Particularly sweet are his Shakespeare lessons, in which his courtly upbringing gives him an exquisitely old-fashioned air. He has grown up with the Bard and truly understands him – yet even as he reads passages with stirring eloquence, his emotional investment prevents him from coming across as though he is in a superior position.

Supporting cast do a fine job, particularly Ben Miller, whose Soren seems at first to loathe being forced to babysit a hopelessly immature prince. I was reminded of Hugh Laurie’s performance as Mr. Palmer in Sense and Sensibility; so few words, but such a powerful presence, and we always knew exactly how irritated he was by his bubbly, gossipy wife. Like Mr. Palmer, though, Soren is a very decent fellow, as people in sophisticated servile positions always seem to be in this type of film, and he is ultimately very likable. Paige brings out the best in him as well as the prince. Miranda Richardson turns in a mostly icy performance as Eddie’s extremely proper mother, though she thaws a bit before all’s said and done. James Fox is warm throughout as Eddie’s ailing father, and I was amused by Devin Ratray, who plays Eddie’s burnout, video game obsessed roomie Scotty.

All told, The Prince and Me is just a very sweet story simply told. There is some attempt at modernization. This is first and foremost Paige’s story, and the director was determined not to see the movie end with her giving up her dreams for the sake of a fairy tale romance. But such is the bond between these two characters that we are determined to see their relationship survive, even if a royal wedding doesn’t occur before the credits roll. I saw the alternate ending and must say I am very satisfied with the chosen finale upon comparison. Prince Edvard’s coronation speech fulfills the director’s wishes for female empowerment with abundant elegance and emotion but leaves the door open for a cathartic conclusion that contains just enough happily ever after to satisfy a sap like me.