Under the Tuscan Sun Review
by Jonathan F. Richards (moviecritic AT prodigy DOT net)September 30th, 2003
IN THE DARK/Jonathan Richards
UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN
Directed by Audrey Wells
PG-13, 115 minutes
If wishing made things so, and good intentions meant a job well done, the Mets would be in the playoffs and "Under the Tuscan Sun" would be a beguiling romance of exotic locale in the mold of "Enchanted April". Alas, there remains that pesky step of execution between the blueprint and the finished product.
Frances Mayes's book was a sort of Italian "This Old House", a narrative of her joys and tribulations in restoring a villa in Tuscany with her husband, fleshed out with local color and recipes. In this film adaptation by director Audrey Wells ("Guinevere"), the husband is gone in the first reel. In fact, we never see him. Frances (Diane Lane) becomes a divorcee, devastated by the lethal modern combination of male perfidy and gender equality that robs her of her San Francisco house, her self-confidence, and her joie de vivre.
Her pregnant lesbian friend Patti (Sandra Oh) is so concerned about her that she gives Frances her place on a gay tour of Tuscany. Frances accepts reluctantly, but once there, she impulsively buys a centuries-old country house near Cortona, and hires a crew of expatriate Poles to help her restore it. The venture is, she admits, "a terrible idea", but Frances is a writer who has always told her students to embrace their terrible ideas - something good may come of them.
She is not, on the evidence, a very good writer. A fellow traveler on the gay tour despairs of being able to describe the wonders of Tuscany in a postcard to his mother, and Frances offers to do it for him. Taking pen in hand, she composes such pretentious drivel ("...the air smells purple....the bells go ding-dang-dong...") that her tour companion rolls his eyes and tells her to keep the postcard.
"Under the Tuscan Sun" tries very hard to be fun, but it lacks the dimension of truthfulness to its own center. It veers at times toward the slapstick, a style which sits at uncomfortable odds with the story it has to tell. Wells has filled it with "movie moments" - things that are only happening because it's a movie. Frances, seeing a For Sale sign along a country road, yells for the driver to stop the bus; as the bus goes on without her, she races back dragging her suitcase to inquire about the villa, and buys it on the spot.
The villa serves as a metaphor for Frances and her bruised life. It's in ruins at the start, but with a lot of work, some trial and error, and the help of kind and loving people, it gradually begins to take on a renewed luster, and to be perhaps even better that it ever was. The supporting cast in these twin rebuilding ventures includes the sympathetic realtor Martini (the appealing Vincent Riotta of "Captain Corelli's Mandolin"); Katherine (Lindsay Duncan), a ditzy English actress who once was in Fellini movies; the young Polish laborer Pawel (Pawel Szadja) who falls for the neighbor's daughter; the aforementioned Patti; and Marcello (Roaul Bova), the handsome Italian lover, who appears, as we know he must, to restore her to full womanhood.
Diane Lane, the onetime child star (1979's "A Little Romance" opposite Laurence Olivier) who vaulted to first-rank movie stardom at the age of 37 with last year's Oscar nomination ("Unfaithful"), brings beauty and plenty of charm to the central role of Frances. But she seems to think that carrying a picture means acting a lot, and she's constantly doing things with her eyes and mouth, as if trying to earn the heftier paycheck that comes with her A-list status.
The true star of the movie is cinematographer Geoffrey Simpson ("Shine"), who captures a Tuscany so wondrously beautiful it very nearly atones for the movie's shortcomings. There are meadows of color-drenched flowers richer than any you'll see this side of the road to Oz, there are small towns stacked up in pastel hues along coastal hillsides, and quiet roads meandering through vineyards and orchards toward distant mountains. The Tuscan sun dapples the waters of the Mediterranean that lap against smooth beaches, and filters down through olive trees with a flattering gentleness that should be bottled as a cosmetic. Dish upon dish of photogenic and mouthwatering Italian cuisine issues from Frances's kitchen. It's enough to make you want to forget all about permits and red tape and just buy the villa next door to hers and get to work.
The story pays homage to the Rolling Stones' truth that you can't always get what you want, but you just might find you get what you need. Examples of the different paths love can take abound among the supporting players, from Patti's chin-up venture into single motherhood to Pawel's Romeo-and-Juliet romance, from Katherine's slightly desperate fading beauty to Martini's faithful husbandry to Frances's ecstatic rebirth in sexuality with Marcello, and finally to the little old man who places flowers every day in a niche in a wall near the villa, presumably a testament of undying affection for a long-dead wife. That the movie is not confident enough to leave it at this is another of its disappointments.
"Under the Tuscan Sun" will disappoint some and delight others, and the latter will not be just women; in the showing I saw, amidst a fairly quiet audience, it was a man behind me who was whooping with glee.
More on 'Under the Tuscan Sun'...
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