Then She Found Me

REVIEW
The pain of abandonment and the assorted ways that it can manifest itself in our lives is handled with a sharp, smart directness by veteran actress Helen Hunt, who has made a satisfying and auspicious directorial debut. Hunt’s singular talent for empathetic observation comes into full play in this adaptation of Elinor Lipman's novel. She is also the centerpiece of the film's small ensemble, playing April Epner, a quietly desperate 30-something schoolteacher who loses her adoptive mother (to death) and dull new husband (to divorce) in what seems like a matter of days. But life does open windows when it shuts a door. In this case, April, still in the throes of grief, is confronted with two important newcomers: a single father named Frank (Colin Firth) and the outrageous Bernice (Bette Midler), who claims not only that she is April’s birth mother, but that April is possibly the product of an affair that Bernice had — with Steve McQueen. Hunt has found her own distinct voice as a filmmaker and uses it well in this tale of a woman’s attempt to end a painful cycle once and for all. Helen Hunt's feature directorial debut comes dressed in distinctively indie trappings. The cinematography is intentionally drab and action, at least in the beginning, tends to happen off-screen. It is in these opening moments that play out somewhat theatrically that the film finds its strength. It is only once all of the set up info is established does the film begin to slip into shapelessness and, worse, sentimentality.

Hunt's Hollywood-seasoned cast makes a valiant attempt to play down the caricatures that they've earned their livings playing up. Matthew Broderick's self-centered manchild lacks the smirking and mugging that he generally lends to similar characters. Colin Firth removes approximately one layer of restraint and adds one layer each of jealousy and rage to his Mark Darcy character from the Bridget Jones series. Bette Midler, while the most expressive character in the film, dulls her brass ever so slightly. Finally, Hunt shows up as the life-scarred, beaten-down type that she's made a career out of playing since As Good As It Gets but removes any semblance of pluck or humor. All of these acting tweaks and character modifications are designed to distinguish the film from the typical sunny romantic comedy that is so fearful of becoming. But, in reality, only two elements successfully separate it. One, at its core, the story centers more around Hunt's desire for a baby and, two, it is not remotely funny. In fact, there may be only one moment in the entire film which will cause viewers to even crack a smile.

Hunt is clearly attempting to put together a precious character study and is all restraint and no risk, but this creates a stifled atmosphere in which none of the characters are developed as well as they ought to be which leaves this film only a mood piece. A mood piece is certainly no crime against cinema, but when the mood that permeates is self-pity then viewers will certainly be excused if they want to turn away.

Even more jarring than the lack of full character development is the atrocious musical supervision. The score often resembles the background music of a self-help video and the song choices (Iron and Wine during a sex scene!) are more than a little cliché. These bad choices betray Hunt's noble attempt to keep the film sparse and render it simply maudlin.

The film is not completely unredeemable. It simply lacks any spark or commitment to its vision, but single women in their late 30s experiencing an identity crisis will most likely enjoy it.