The idea for And Mrs feels like it was hatched after somebody stumbled upon the word “necrogamy” during a Wikipedia search. Necrogamy is a marriage in which one of the engaged is dead and was originally intended to provide financial support for war widows. First-time feature director Daniel Reisinger aims to use necrogamy as a unique way of exploring the idea of overcoming grief, with Aisling Bea playing a Londoner who decides to proceed with her wedding despite the untimely death of her fiancé (Colin Hanks).
But Reisinger hides what little he has to say about dealing with such heartbreak behind the safe spaces of rom-com conventions and Melissa Bubnic’s anything-for-a-laugh script. While no one was expecting Harold and Maude-levels of risk and reward, Reisinger’s occasionally amusing film takes a well-meaning idea and drowns it in strained comedy, removing too much of the real-life messiness from it.
The movie ostensibly takes place in London but really unfolds in a poorly developed neighborhood in Richard Curtis Town, where sun-dappled streets, peppy music, and snappy split screen transitions set the tone and our heroine is surrounded by a standard collection of quirky supporting players.
When we meet Gemma (Bea), she seems happy enough with fiancé Nathan, an American ex-pat played by Hanks, who exudes the same unforced decency as his father, Tom Hanks. When Nathan suffers a fatal embolism while putting on his socks, he doesn’t exit the film but rather reappears in flashbacks that chart the development of him and Gemma’s relationship. The flashbacks also add much-needed texture as they reveal her ambivalence about getting married since, she argues, all families are screwed up.
What gets the ball rolling is Gemma’s decision to marry Nathan despite the inconvenience of him being dead, a longshot attempt that would require government approval. Key to the effort is Nathan’s estranged sister, Audrey (Billie Lourd), who has flown in from America with no knowledge of Nathan’s death. With her hot pink hair and a bun in the oven, the wackadoodle Audrey is less a believable character than a collection of quirks and one-liners meant to add wildcard energy to play off the dour Gemma.
The Dialogue Is Outrageous But Not Very Funny
There’s often a whiff of comedic desperation in Bubnic’s screenplay, which provides Audrey with tired lines of supposedly outrageous dialogue (although if you need a new phrase to inspire yourself into action, “grab hold of your labia” might work for you). And whether Audrey’s behavior makes sense doesn’t seem to be a consideration. There is not a whit of plausibility in her and Gemma’s crashing of a government conference on sex work to gain access to the Lord Chief Justice (a sly and steely Harriet Walter), who needs to sign off on the marriage. And her awkward pass at Gemma is a forced and unlikely stab at separating them to create late-in-the-game conflict.
The basic disconnect is that Gemma is in too much of a grief avoidance stupor to articulate her pain and allow us to bond with her as she works her way through it. That gives the plot additional room to grind on as Gemma and Audrey make multiple visits to the Lord Chief Justice’s office and even hightail it to America to visit Nathan and Audrey’s mother (Elizabeth McGovern).
It also leaves the door open for less interesting side characters to take center stage. Gemma’s friend Ruth (Susan Wokoma) and mother Lorraine (Sinéad Cusack) conspiring to stop the wedding is a good use of secondary characters. But it’s a ridiculously contrived distraction when Ruth gets her own arc that includes her peeing on a dance floor, only to be saved by Nathan’s friend — who gives her cover by peeing on the dance floor in front of her.
It would take a mighty deft hand to emulsify all these tones and storylines, but the filmmakers can't muster one. That’s nowhere more evident than during the long-awaited wrap-up, where an upbeat Partridge Family ditty is followed by end credits that feel like a mawkish punchline thanks to the accompaniment of Bette Midler’s ballad, “The Rose.”
Aisling Bea Rises Above the Contrivances
What And Mrs does have going for it is the ever-charming Bea as our guide through the thicket. Lourd seems game for anything, but cobbling together a credible human out of loose comedic parts and faux-shocking dialogue proves an impossible task. As befitting the genre, side characters dip in and out with a couple making good impressions, including Paul Kaye as the world’s worst eulogist and the lovable Nish Kumar as a clueless pub owner.
A main character in a movie about grief avoidance naturally avoids talking about grief. So when the film moves beyond the comic reversals and girl power moments and finally gets down to business, it’s disappointing that it has nothing new or insightful to say about the grieving process. It’s also surprising: The film’s production notes mention that Reisinger’s mother died of COVID (Lourd’s mother is Carrie Fisher, who died in 2016). Such tragedy is often the springboard for great films, and it’s up to the artist to mine these events for their essential truths. And while humor is often a legitimate way to explore universal issues, And Mrs goes too far in a mainstream direction, sacrificing valuable insight for cheap laughs and pretty pictures.
From Vertigo Releasing, And Mrs is having a limited run in theaters before coming to digital and on demand platforms on Sep. 27, and will stream on Netflix UK.
Comments
Post a Comment