Lasse Hallström

  • Something to Talk About (1995)

    (In French, On Cable TV, July 2022) The single best thing about Something to Talk About is casting Julia Roberts and Kyra Sedgwick as sisters. The resemblance is uncanny enough that it would have been a cinematic crime not to take advantage of it at least once, and, fortunately, the mid-1990s delivered right on time. The rest of the film? Not quite as good as that casting coup. Taking place in a small Southern town, it features Roberts as a woman who storms away from her house to her father’s ranch when she discovers evidence of her husband cheating on her. Within days, she figuratively firebombs the local housewife meeting by pointing out who else cheated on whom. At that point, it feels as if we’re going to get the usual emancipation narrative in which the cheating husband is kicked to the curb, much vengeance is achieved and the woman finds her own path. What follows, however, is more nuanced and perhaps more frustrating—in the hands of director Lasse Hallström and Thelma and Louise screenwriter Callie Khouri, Something to Talk About threads a middle path that may leave no one satisfied—our heroine resolves to get back to school and pursue an independent career, but at the same time also reconnects with her husband (albeit after poisoning him—it makes sense in context). There’s also a lot of equestrian material, which is neither a plus or a minus as far as I’m concerned. But in the end, with a supporting cast that includes Robert Duvall, Gena Rowlands and Dennis Quaid, the film settles for a rather gentle and innocuous romantic comedy. Something to Talk About has undeniable high points and a few chuckles, but in the end, it seems to play things awfully safe. This may not be a problem for the target audience for the film, which is probably just fine with the women dishing it out and the wayward husband being humbled but not kicked away. For anyone who doesn’t play by those rules, however, the question of whether a husband with a college nickname of “hound dog” is even capable of staying faithful hangs over the upbeat ending like a cloud. But you know what? I’m just glad we saw Roberts and Sedgwick play sisters at least once… even if I would rather have seen Sedgwick’s cynical ball-kneeing character as the lead.

  • Mitt liv som hund [My Life as a Dog] (1985)

    (On Cable TV, April 2022) Meh. Big meh. Visible-from-orbit meh. I’m not big on slice-of-life movies in the first place, so it’s hardly surprising that I would have an unimpressed reaction to My Life as a Dog. Taking us back to late-1950s rural Sweden, it’s a film that follows a young boy as he is sent to live with his aunt and uncle while his mother faces a terminal illness. New friends, eccentric characters, grief and obsession about the fate of Laika (sent in orbit without ways of making it back on Earth) are the stuff that the film is made of. Clearly a labour of nostalgia from writer-director Lasse Hallström (who parlayed the film’s unexpected American success into a Hollywood career), the film is amiable, wistful, funny and often far more imaginative than you’d expect. Rather than harp on how I didn’t care all that much for the result, I‘ll let you decide whether this is the kind of film that would interest you, and act accordingly.

  • The Hundred-Foot Journey (2014)

    The Hundred-Foot Journey (2014)

    (On TV, June 2019) In keeping with the times, it’s been a great decade for food-themed movies from 2007–2016 (ish). Suddenly, from No Reservations to Chef and Burnt, we had at least a dozen movies about professional chefs, restaurants and everything else peeking behind the scenes of the foodie scene. With only five years’ worth of perspective, The Hundred-Foot Journey certainly fit in the subgenre. Here we travel to rural France, as a family of Indian immigrants settles in a small town to open their own restaurant … right in front of a Michelin-star haute-cuisine establishment. Definitely approaching food as a sensual, romantic endeavour (the slow motion starts as soon as someone picks up a utensil and a bowl), director Lasse Hallström blends a feel-good mix of cultural acceptance, character growth, power-of-food homilies and straight-up romance. Helen Mirren headlines the cast, but the film rests on Manish Dayal’s likable performance, with some assistance from Charlotte Le Bon as the love interest, and Om Puri as the patriarch. There aren’t really any surprises here—the ending is almost exactly what you can imagine. But it’s a fun trip, even though the film may be a touch too long and almost certainly a bit too ponderous for what it could have been in more impatient hands. There’s a specific audience for food movies, and The Hundred-Foot Journey will deliver what they expect.

  • Dear John (2010)

    Dear John (2010)

    (On TV, February 2017) Channing Tatum, Amanda Seyfried, Lasse Hallström and Nicholas Sparks in Dear John. With those four names together, you almost don’t have to do anything else to describe the result. Of course, it’s going to be an overlong (Hallström) weepy romantic drama (Nicholas Sparks) featuring a sympathetic hunk (Tatum) and a likable petite blonde (Seyfried). Any other questions? Oh, sure, the point of those films is in the details and side characters such as Richard Jenkins’ autistic father, likable in a difficult role. It’s about the homespun wisdom that kind of works even as it’s melodramatic (“Now I have two small holes in me. I’m no longer in perfect condition.”) It’s about familiar dialogue and situations that allow viewers to immerse themselves in characters that could be just like them. It’s about knowing where the journey takes us and being comforted by it. It’s not about wit or originality or being challenged or reflecting on the anxious years following 9/11. It’s not about anything else but what you see on the tin. Dear John works at what it tries to be, but it doesn’t try to be very ambitious.

  • Safe Haven (2013)

    Safe Haven (2013)

    (Netflix Streaming, January 2017) Seasoned movie reviewers often praise execution over originality, and movies like Safe Haven tend to prove their point: what works in this film is familiarity, while what doesn’t work is audaciousness. As a romance/thriller hybrid, Safe Haven feels familiar from the get-go, although the opening segment insists forcefully on the thriller aspect of it. Things soon settle down on an idyllic portrayal of a woman on the run (Julianne Hough, unremarkable) finding temporary peace in a small coastal community. Preposterously cute, this segment of the film feels the most comforting: our protagonist soon finds a job, a place to live (without showing any papers!), friends and eventually an impossibly ideal boyfriend (Josh Duhamel, in a good role). It is, after all, adapted from a Nicholas Sparks novel. In parallel, sequences featuring a dangerously unhinged cop suggests that this is all about to crash down … and it does, at the same time as lies are exposed, a relationship seemingly breaks apart and the town revels in its Fourth of July celebration. Familiar stuff, ably directed by veteran Lasse Hallström but comforting all the same: Likable actors such as Mimi Kirkland and Red West help sell the fantasy of a small town where people can just come in and be warmly received. But the film does have two twists up its sleeve and if the first one isn’t too far-fetched by the standards of the thriller genre, the final one (about Cobie Smulder’s character) just feels moronic, even by the conventions of heartwarming romances. It does help cement a generally unfavourable impression of a film that, up until then, was teetering between comfort and cliché. Once the final revelation rolls by, Safe Haven becomes easily dismissible as nothing more than romantic pulp, perhaps engaging at time but ultimately tainted by one useless twist too far.

  • What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (1993)

    What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (1993)

    (On TV, August 2016) At first glance, a summary of What’s Eating Gilbert Grape sounds like a word salad, perhaps written by a foreigner whose understanding of Middle America is shaped by Hollywood clichés: Here’s a twentysomething man from a family where the father committed suicide, the mother is morbidly obese, the youngest son is autistic and the daughters are obsessed with pop trivia. Our small-town protagonist has an affair with an older married woman, sees his job as a grocery clerk threatened by the arrival of a big-box store and gazes wistfully at the people passing through… Not exactly promising stuff, isn’t it? But as it turns out, there’s a lot more than a plot synopsis in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, the most noteworthy of them being the handful of astonishing actors brought together for the occasion. Johnny Depp stars as the brooding over-solicited protagonist, but he’s upstaged by an impossibly young Leonardo DiCaprio as his developmentally challenged brother, a performance so convincing that it’s a relief to know that it’s not real. Elsewhere in the movie, the ever-beautiful Mary Steenburgen shows up as an adulterous wife, John C. Reilly is a hoot as a mildly dumb handyman, and Juliette Lewis makes an impression as a girl passing through town. Director Lasse Hallström assembles a perfectly watchable film from it all, a slice of weird Americana that’s occasionally grotesque, but engaging from beginning to end.