THE TROUBLE WITH THE TRUTH B
USA (96 mi) 2011
d: Jim Hemphill Official site
THE TROUBLE WITH THE TRUTH, as the title aptly suggests, leads
us to believe that honesty is not always the best policy, for reasons the film
is likely to make clear, though that’s not really how it plays out. Instead it becomes something we haven’t seen
in awhile, becoming a take-off of Louis Malle’s MY DINNER WITH ANDRE (1981), a
marathon talkathon between two charming and sophisticated characters over
dinner, where this turns into My Dinner
with Lea, starring the irrepressibly likeable Lea Thompson as Emily, the
ex-wife of Robert, John Shea, a face we immediately recognize from television,
but never in a lead role. Thompson’s
performance is so warm and engaging we wonder where she’s been, seemingly
absent from motion pictures for awhile, but she’s been working in smaller
projects, where it’s a joy to see her in a movie worthy of her talent. The film opens when Robert’s daughter Jenny
(Danielle Harris) meets him for breakfast to announce she’s engaged, hoping
he’d be thrilled, but instead gets an earful on why marriage is not the way to
go, basically lecturing her about learning from his own mistakes, pointing out his
own divorce with her mother after a 14-year marriage as a perfect example for
why marriage destroys people’s lives. Blunt
and to the point, this was not exactly the response Jenny was looking for in
what she hopes is the happiest day of
her life, but it typifies Robert’s views on life, as he’s not thrilled
by her fiancé, thinking he’s not the brightest bulb, and knows his daughter
could do better if she wouldn’t settle so soon for mediocrity. It’s obvious Jenny doesn’t share her father’s
views, and after mentioning her mom’s in town for a writer’s seminar, she
leaves in a huff, apparently used to cool receptions from her father.
The divorcees decide to meet for drinks at a bar just
outside her hotel, where there’s a restaurant nearby. As it turns out, Robert plays piano at the
hotel lounge, mostly for tips, eking out a living by occasionally writing
compositions, but he’s off the night she arrives in town, so they have the
whole night to themselves, where he drinks choice scotch and she’s a white wine
connoisseur. Their breezy conversation
is filled with light hearted barbs with an underhanded satiric edge, as both
obviously endured a great deal of pain when they separated, where Robert openly
holds nothing but contempt for her new husband, a highly successful businessman
who’s filthy rich, especially since she walked out of the marriage to be with
him. Nonetheless, both seem genuinely
glad to see one another, where it’s apparent from the natural feel of the
well-written dialogue that both have a familiarity with each other’s habits and
views, where they’re soon talking as if they never split up in the first place,
which leads them to dinner in an intimate upscale restaurant. The ease of their conversation never lets up,
as there are no embarrassing moments or quiet pauses, but a keen interest in
each other’s lives, as after another round of drinks, they begin probing many
of the personal details that helps explain who they are. Emily is a successful writer living in
comfort, while Robert is a struggling pianist who often feels inclined to sleep
with the barmaids. Each, in their own
way, feels comfortable with their choices, as they felt they were suffocating
one another during the marriage.
As the length of the conversation expands, and they retreat
to a lounge area for desert and yet another round of drinks, it’s apparent the
entire film is built upon holding the audience’s rapt attention by the romantic
implications of the conversation taking place in real time, where they grow
more honest and confessional, revealing closely held secrets that might change
how they feel about one another. Robert,
especially, is seen in the beginning as overly opinionated, the kind of guy
that thinks everyone else is a phony while he’s holding down the fort on being
authentic. But Emily is stunned to
discover a certain male bluster covering up his real insecurities about an
artistic career that never happened, where he always thought he’d make it in
the business, but by now, he still has little to show for it. Maintaining a healthy distance from his
daughter after the divorce only leaves him angry at his personal ineptitude and
failure. Also, it turns out, much to
Robert’s delight, Emily’s marriage has a few cracks of its own, where a comfort
zone is blocking out real passion, becoming a safe choice, but one that leaves
her wondering if she made the right decision to leave Robert in the first
place, who has always been her closest and most trusted friend irrespective of
their differences. In the waning
midnight hour, both are second guessing what might have happened if only they
had done this, or that, and wonder if it’s too late to mend broken fences? Emily, especially, seems amenable to
exploring the idea of re-opening their marriage, while Robert, Mr. Free Spirit
himself, is the one suggesting not so fast, as there are inevitable
consequences. It’s an interesting chess
match of inflamed and intoxicated love and desire, living in the uncertainty of
the present while re-examining intuitively what’s behind them, wondering if
they should explore what lies ahead.
It’s an interesting tug of war with ignited passions on either side, a
passion play brilliantly written by writer/director Jim Hemphill, a former movie
critic for the Chicago Reader, Film
Quarterly, and American
Cinematographer magazine. Hemphill
builds the characters into such wholly developed human beings that it feels as
if they should literally step out of the movie screen into real life, like Buster
Keaton in SHERLOCK JR. (1924) or Jeff Daniels in Woody Allen’s THE PURPLE ROSE
OF CAIRO (1985). In fact, the film is so
performance driven, it’s questionable whether cinema doesn’t stifle their
spontaneity, or whether this is even the most appropriate means of
expression. Why not Broadway?—as this
play is so rich with live theatrical potential.
