Summertime

hepburn
I was surprised that Katerine Hepburn could bore me. In Davide Lean’s Summertime (1955) she did. Hepburn plays Jane, an American secretary on her dream vacation in Venice. She’s dreamed of this trip for years and has a lot of energy and high expectations. Soon Jane’s pouting because her trip isn’t as idyllic as she hoped. She doesn’t have any horrible mishaps like getting robbed or sick so to me she just needed to look for some alternatives. Maybe she should go out for a day with the American couple who seemed a bit corny, maybe she should go to a different city or get a tour guide over the age of 10 instead of the urchin who looked about 6, had no shoes, spoke English better than a lot of Italian university students and who spoked cigarettes, which Jane gave him. (That was something you wouldn’t see today. Jane didn’t spoke on screen ever, but had a pack and bargained with this ragamuffin for.)

Jane does bump into an handsome Italian, Renato in the Saint Marco’s Square and the next day happens to go into Renato’s shop. There’s clearly some attraction, but Jane’s awfully standoffish despite her severe loneliness which makes it impossible to enjoy Italy.

About half of the film consists of Jane moping, which made it drag. Eventually, Renato pursues Jane, who soon discovers he’s married. At that revelation, Jane wants to end things, but she’s so lonely.

Ugh!

Jane had built this trip up in her mind so much that it was destined to disappoint. When she talks of home, it’s not as though she hates it. We’re not sure why she never married. She does mention going to a real ball as teen so she’s had opportunities for romance apparently.

Renato continues to pursue her and responds with pat answers to questions about his wife and children. Jane could do better. I hoped she’d end things with Renato.

All in all, I found the film dull despite Hepburn’s ability to be clever and energetic.

The Flick

I thought I was quite lucky when I managed to get two discount tickets for Steppenwolf Theater’s The Flick, an award winning (so hard to believe)  play by Annie Baker. That feeling lasted 10 minutes when my hope that the play would entertain or enlighten at all was starting to vanish.

The Flick is a long, (3 hours, 10 minutes) dull look at two men who sweep and mop up the theater and the female projectionist, who’s a vapid loudmouth. The advertisement called the show “mesmerising” and I can only imagine that’s an agency’s spin on “sleep inducing.” I came expecting humorous banter about the love of film by some theatre employees with quirks and some sort of meaning or at least novel social observations along the lines of the very quotable Clerks film.

Those hopes were dashed rather early one by prolonged stretches of mopping or sweeping interspersed with dull dialogue about stealing from the till, the projectionist’s personality and sexuality, and movie trivia between the new guy, a nerd with high levels of social anxiety who’s little more than a walking IMDB.com. The nerd does realise he doesn’t have much personality his life is going nowhere but his long winded phone conversation with a therapist just bored me.

The play desperately needs 1) a plot, 2) more characters, 3) cut about 90 minutes out of it, 4) somehow find a theme and 5) take the characters you’re stuck with and give them some personality.

Evidently, the play contains humour, but I only know that because the theatre employees who sat behind me laughed. Any laughter in the theatre came from about 10% of the audience whom my friend and I guess were parents of the actors. During the first half of the play, I looked at my watch three times, not a good sign. I was relieved to get to intermission and delighted when my friend asked, “Would you mind leaving?”

Certainly not! Ninety more minutes would be hell.

As I went to collect my coat, my friend asked an employee what happened in the second half. “It’s pretty much more of the same.” That’s what we guessed. If the playwright had any ability or sense, she’d have put something good into the first half of this long, long opus. We overheard some people trying to decide whether to stay or go. My friend shared the employee’s comment. After exchanging some comments about how dreadful this show was and trying to figure out why a high quality theatre like Steppenwolf would choose to do this and how this Annie Baker managed to not only win a Pulitzer but also a Guggenheim so she’s getting a fortune to continue to write dull plays, we all decided to leave. Life is too short.

We weren’t alone either. I figure my $20 was a gift to the arts. We were so sorry that Domesticated with Tom Allen was sold out.