The Next Best Thing Review
by James Sanford (jamessanford AT earthlink DOT net)March 6th, 2000
Despite 15 years of experience in movies, Madonna has rarely seemed as comfortable on the big screen as she has on MTV, on a concert stage. She effortlessly vamped her way through such steamy videos as "Erotica" or "Bad Girl," but froze up when she was called upon to play a maneater in the 1993 thriller "Body of Evidence," and she's often witty in interviews, but that sense of humor has often deserted her in such comedies as "Who's That Girl" and "Four Rooms."
To date, Madonna's most effective film work has come from playing either larger than life icons (the indomitable Eva Peron in "Evita," the voluptuous nightclub singer Breathless Mahoney in "Dick Tracy") or non-conformists with a sense of humor about themselves (the New Wave gypsy Susan in "Desperately Seeking Susan," the saucy baseball player Mae in "A League of Their Own").
But whether it's due to a new-found maturity as an actress or her off-camera role as a first-time mother, Madonna has rarely seemed as much at home with a part as she does in the seriocomic "The Next Best Thing," in which she's cast as Abbie, a woman speeding toward 40 without a husband (which she might like) or a child (which she truly wants). Despite her career as a yoga instructor, Abbie still finds fault with her looks and her body. Gazing at herself in the mirror, Abbie raises her breasts and whispers "1989," then lets them droop and murmurs miserably "1999."
What Abbie does have, however, is a best friend, Robert (Rupert Everett), who's always there to mop up her tears or mix up an emergency margarita when she needs it most. The tenderness of the relationship is completely believable because of the easy and affectionate way Everett and Madonna play off of each other. If they ever decided to dip their toes in the talk show pool, Madonna and Everett could make a sensational replacement for Regis and Kathie Lee.
Anyhow, back to our story: Robert would be the perfect man for Abbie, except that he's gay ("He definitely falls into the 'What a waste' category," one of Abby's friends sighs). But one sizzling Independence Day weekend, when both are feeling particularly low, Abbie and Robert down too many drinks, dance themselves into a frenzy and end up getting much closer than they ever have before. Their one-time-only tryst ends in confusion, regret and, to everyone's shock, pregnancy. Although it initially sets itself up as a comedy, "The Next Best Thing" slowly evolves into a surprisingly thoughtful study of family life, and it moves easily from lighthearted romp to poignant drama under the guidance of John Schlesinger, the British director who often seems to take a personal interest in projects which examine American values in a changing society ("Midnight Cowboy," "The Falcon and the Snowman," etc). If Abbie can't have everything she wants, she's willing to settle for an unconventional arrangement in which she and Robert can live in the same house and bring up their son together. But the situation becomes increasingly complicated as the years go by and Abbie becomes involved with Ben (Benjamin Bratt), a kind man who could provide the stability she's always searched for.
Commendably, Thomas Ropelewski's screenplay refuses to villify or sanctify any of the principal characters, all of whom make some mistakes and say things they later regret as the stakes become higher. Even as the movie becomes progressively more serious, Ropelewski's dialogue remains peppered with barbs, most of them aimed at the ignorance of the well-meaning people around Abbie and Robert. A concerned young woman asks if Abbie's baby will be gay, and Abbie responds, "Will your kids be stupid?" When one uncouth little boy uses a politically incorrect term to refer to Robert's love life, a girl quickly chastises him. "You're supposed to say 'same-sex partner'!" she notes.
Although its subject matter is decidedly contemporary, "The Next Best Thing" has the ravishing production design of a vintage Technicolor extravaganza. The colors are vibrant, from the teal curtains in Abbie's house to the startlingly red flowers in the garden, and Elliot Davis photographs Everett, Madonna and Bratt lovingly, bathing them in golden candle glow or warm blue lights. If every film looked this good, going to the movies would be a whole lot easier on the eyes. James Sanford
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