Luscious Pies, a Little Secret or Two
DVD: Waitress (2007)
DVDs have changed my life. Purchased, rented, borrowed, they've brought me all the films I truly want to see, especially those rarities that never hit the AFI or Avalon, or only turned up for the shortest of runs. And it's no exaggeration to say a humble little disc sometimes delivers a transcendent experience.
For instance, one of the real surprises in my recent DVD viewing was Searching for Debra Winger, a rough-edged but eye-opening documentary on the draining, sometimes humiliating casting system faced by actresses. In one crucial scene several women, all of whom began their film careers in the 1980s, gather around a table in the Russian Tea Room to trade war stories. They include the dark and brooding Ally Sheedy, feisty Martha Plimpton, and a tiny, delicate redhead who recounts how a casting meeting can rapidly switch from respectful conversation to the once-over.
That redhead is Adrienne Shelly, the late actress, screenwriter, and director whose final project, a labor of love called Waitress, has made its way to Sundance, our local arts theaters, DVD, and finally Olsson's.
Does that title summon up images of a beehive hairdo and a cigarette dangling from the corner of a painted-on mouth? Think again. Shelly's artistic vision has more in common with Like Water for Chocolate and Eat Drink Man Woman -- poignant and comic meditations on romantic frustration, family secrets, and lot of fantasy-inducing food.
I hope all of you have known at least one person who was a true artist in the kitchen. It's been my experience that such people are generally unknown except to those they love -- no cookbooks, no fame, but my eyes are tearing up as I type this -- and they wield enough magic to keep us clustered around the table on a Sunday evening, and then still trying to duplicate their ravioli or chicken paprikas decades later.
Well, the food as artistry conceit is back again in Waitress, and if you try to watch this without first laying in a supply of coffee and pastry, your growling stomach is your own affair. You'll be pressing your nose against the screen once our fresh-faced heroine, Jenna (Keri Russell), starts whipping up her delectable pies in the diner where she spends her days.
Jenna's a genius with pastry but flummoxed by what confronts her when she leaves the kitchen. Easily the most unpleasant: her husband, Earl (Jeremy Sisto), who alternates between intimidating Jenna and treating her like a piece of recreational equipment. That last bit of behavior has left her in the family way and apparently tethered to this Neanderthal for the duration.
But this feminist comedy is neither Knocked Up nor Spring's Awakening, so put down that remote. Shelly saves the day by giving the hard-luck Jenna an array of allies among the inescapably discontented denizens of her small Southern town. First up: her loyal confidantes and coworkers, Becky (an indomitable Cheryl Hines) and Dawn (the director, in mousy mode). Add to the mix Jenna's sensitive obstetrician (Nathan Fillion) and her best customer, Joe (Andy Griffith), and anything could happen.
Surprisingly, it's Griffith, playing a wily Southern curmudgeon, who proves to be Russell's most interesting foil. It's fun to watch Jenna match wits with the high-maintenance Joe, who ultimately respects and likes her, and there's a poignancy to banter between a blossoming young woman and a man who has traded his dreams for a few good memories.
And though it's Keri Russell who carries the movie, Shelly gives Griffith most of the best lines. In fact, on watching the DVD again, I was struck by how lovably quotable the screenplay was. Once characters start letting their inner voices escape from the censor, it's Katy bar the door, and you better start jotting down those zingers.
But don't let the wisecracks and candy-colored costumes and those amazing pies distract from the real journey. That's Jenna's road to the delivery room, where she comes to terms with all the fear, ambiguity, and anger within her own heart -- and comes face to face with the person who really changes everything. It's a journey Adrienne Shelly knew something about, both as an artist and a woman.
DVDs have changed my life. Purchased, rented, borrowed, they've brought me all the films I truly want to see, especially those rarities that never hit the AFI or Avalon, or only turned up for the shortest of runs. And it's no exaggeration to say a humble little disc sometimes delivers a transcendent experience.
For instance, one of the real surprises in my recent DVD viewing was Searching for Debra Winger, a rough-edged but eye-opening documentary on the draining, sometimes humiliating casting system faced by actresses. In one crucial scene several women, all of whom began their film careers in the 1980s, gather around a table in the Russian Tea Room to trade war stories. They include the dark and brooding Ally Sheedy, feisty Martha Plimpton, and a tiny, delicate redhead who recounts how a casting meeting can rapidly switch from respectful conversation to the once-over.
That redhead is Adrienne Shelly, the late actress, screenwriter, and director whose final project, a labor of love called Waitress, has made its way to Sundance, our local arts theaters, DVD, and finally Olsson's.
Does that title summon up images of a beehive hairdo and a cigarette dangling from the corner of a painted-on mouth? Think again. Shelly's artistic vision has more in common with Like Water for Chocolate and Eat Drink Man Woman -- poignant and comic meditations on romantic frustration, family secrets, and lot of fantasy-inducing food.
I hope all of you have known at least one person who was a true artist in the kitchen. It's been my experience that such people are generally unknown except to those they love -- no cookbooks, no fame, but my eyes are tearing up as I type this -- and they wield enough magic to keep us clustered around the table on a Sunday evening, and then still trying to duplicate their ravioli or chicken paprikas decades later.
Well, the food as artistry conceit is back again in Waitress, and if you try to watch this without first laying in a supply of coffee and pastry, your growling stomach is your own affair. You'll be pressing your nose against the screen once our fresh-faced heroine, Jenna (Keri Russell), starts whipping up her delectable pies in the diner where she spends her days.Jenna's a genius with pastry but flummoxed by what confronts her when she leaves the kitchen. Easily the most unpleasant: her husband, Earl (Jeremy Sisto), who alternates between intimidating Jenna and treating her like a piece of recreational equipment. That last bit of behavior has left her in the family way and apparently tethered to this Neanderthal for the duration.
But this feminist comedy is neither Knocked Up nor Spring's Awakening, so put down that remote. Shelly saves the day by giving the hard-luck Jenna an array of allies among the inescapably discontented denizens of her small Southern town. First up: her loyal confidantes and coworkers, Becky (an indomitable Cheryl Hines) and Dawn (the director, in mousy mode). Add to the mix Jenna's sensitive obstetrician (Nathan Fillion) and her best customer, Joe (Andy Griffith), and anything could happen.
Surprisingly, it's Griffith, playing a wily Southern curmudgeon, who proves to be Russell's most interesting foil. It's fun to watch Jenna match wits with the high-maintenance Joe, who ultimately respects and likes her, and there's a poignancy to banter between a blossoming young woman and a man who has traded his dreams for a few good memories.
And though it's Keri Russell who carries the movie, Shelly gives Griffith most of the best lines. In fact, on watching the DVD again, I was struck by how lovably quotable the screenplay was. Once characters start letting their inner voices escape from the censor, it's Katy bar the door, and you better start jotting down those zingers.
But don't let the wisecracks and candy-colored costumes and those amazing pies distract from the real journey. That's Jenna's road to the delivery room, where she comes to terms with all the fear, ambiguity, and anger within her own heart -- and comes face to face with the person who really changes everything. It's a journey Adrienne Shelly knew something about, both as an artist and a woman.
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