By Lydia Melby, Arts Editor
Formulas can be valuable sometimes. They are essential for math, chemistry, physics and who does not love throwing an “Ee equals em cee squared – duh” comment into the occasional conversation?
Formulas also can be good for the arts, if used correctly. What would a chick-flick be without the old ‘boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back’ plotline? Well, it might be disconcerting for those who like to watch the typical formula movie. So when making the kind of romantic comedy that girls all over the planet will force their woebegone significant others to watch, sticking with the formula is a little essential.
However, if you are going to market a film as the newest heartfelt, offbeat, indie little dramedy, using a formulaic script is generally a bad idea. The people who like predictable movies probably will not be the people who watch your film, and ramming conventional sentimentality down your audience’s throats with the most contrived plot devices you can devise will not work for an audience who expected a quality film.
Using formulas is exactly the kind of mistake a lot of ‘artsy’ movies are making today, and Sunshine Cleaning is no exception. You would never guess from the previews and hype that this movie is a recycled mess of self-conscious writing and forced emotion all thrown into a predictable, yet cluttered plot.
When watching the film, I felt certain I had seen some scenes before, and some events, while they did not necessarily give a sense of déj… vu, were not too surprising. For some reason, I expected more from the woman who directed Sylvia and the makers of Little Miss Sunshine.
Another problem was the movie lacked a sense of focus. It seemed like whoever edited the film cut some of the unifying scenes on accident. But the biggest problem with the movie was the over-drawn sentimentality. It begins well, but becomes more and more contrived, and there came a point toward the end where I thought, “Honestly? Did the writer really expect us to swallow that without complaining?” Condescension in the place of subtlety is never a good idea.
However, Sunshine Cleaning’s mediocrity is certainly not the fault of the actors. The only blemish with this stellar cast is they chose to be in such a movie. But actors have to work and eat, and with the amount of publicity this film is getting, I imagine none of the actors will regret their choice too much.
Amy Adams and Emily Blunt are both fantastic. Adams has the tough job of making her obnoxious character likable, while keeping her human. Her character makes some of the worst choices a mother has ever made and is generally a selfish primadonna, but Adams mostly succeeds in eliciting compassion from the viewers, despite her character’s faults. Blunt is one of the better actresses working in Hollywood today, and I would pay money to see her in almost anything.
Alan Arkin, of Little Miss Sunshine fame, is predictable but genuine as a widower grandfather, and newcomer Jason Spevack is delightfully bratty in his role as the child of Adam’s single mother character.
Overall, this is a decent film that tried to be too much more. Sunshine Cleaning did not hit a profound note in its entire 91 minutes, although the supporting cast and one minor role in particular somewhat saved the film from too much driveling self-pity.
If you can get past the jumbled plot and unbelievable moments, I would recommend the film; however, if you do not meet all of the above criteria, I suggest finding a better way to spend your Friday night and money.
