Dose of Buffa

Everybody in The Seagull is unhappy-and I don’t mean a slight unhappiness. I’m talking pure misery.

Constantine (Billy Howle) hates (aka envies) the success of playwright and author Boris (Corey Stoll) while pining for the attention of Nina (Howle’s On Chesil Beach co-star, Saoirse Ronan), who adores Boris. Marsha (Elizabeth Moss) is perpetually unhappy, preferring an unkempt look and a flask of whiskey, because she’s in love with Constantine and he won’t even acknowledge her existence, but school teacher Mikhail (Michael Zegen) thinks she’s great–to no avail.

They all reside under the hot air balloon presence of Irina (Annette Bening), an accomplished actress who imprisons her company in countless tales about how great and important she is. Lost most in her ego is Sorin (Brian Dennehy), the elderly brother on his final legs who just wants to see the city one more time.

There’s a doctor (Jon Kenney), stable hand (Glenn Freischer, who’s in everything), and the head maid (Mare Winningham).

When they all gather at Sorin’s estate, several things come to a head, predictably and melodramatically.

Michael Mayer’s film meanders in the fast lane of the 20th Century’s rich and lustful, showing us hollow souls with no backbone or reason to command your attention or respect. Watching this movie is like going to a rich person’s house in Ladue and being told not to drink or complain, just observe.

A great cast is mostly wasted, stuck playing to their tired strengths in a script that could have used a shuffle. Bening is a talented actress, but she seems to play one speed these days: the aging woman who wants to stay young. Blah.

Dennehy, Kenney, Winningham, and Ronan aren’t necessarily bad, but they don’t linger long after the credits roll. They serve a purpose as in fill this space and read lines.

Howle and Ronan had chemistry in On Chesil Beach, but they weren’t playing mere caricatures in that heartbreaking film. Here, they are sworn yet torn lovers trying to resist the easy urge to break bad or take a shortcut to love. We watched this already in a better film.

Stoll and Moss fare the best, because they play against type and have room to run around in the role. Boris is a great writer, but a chained up soul who has a weakness for strong women-and Stoll taps into that easily. Moss embraces the futility of Marsha’s existence, creating a few spare laughs amid the seriousness of the plot. I wanted these two to run off together and start their own movie.

Stephen Karam’s screenplay was based off Anton Chekhov’s play, so the morose attitude should be expected. Chekhov was one of six siblings growing up, so some of these stories are probably true. I just wish this one had more purpose and more of the actors weren’t playing in their safe zones.

I didn’t hate The Seagull. I just forgot about it quickly after I left the theater. Like the love between two people in this world, the desire I had wasn’t really genuine or strong enough to care about what happened next to these characters.

Perhaps if Mayer had taken the classic play and turned it into a dark comedy instead of playing it completely straight. Maybe that would have created more of a spark and less restlessness.

In the end, a fine cast is wasted in a forgettable drama about unhappy rich people.

What is a marriage without intimacy?

Edward (Billy Howle) and Florence (Saoirse Ronan) are newlyweds spending their big night on a romantic island called Chesil Beach. For most couples, this would represent the most exotic getaway, like climbing into a painting and escaping the rigors of the world. For Edward and Florence, it becomes a trial by fire where their past, present, and proposed future will be dissected and observed.

In other words, they have a big fight that brings to light a lot of uncomfortable truths about how men, women, marriage, and sex are supposed to go together-and what happens when the spark just isn’t there.

Welcome to On Chesil Beach, a challenging and heartfelt new film that should get you talking.

It’s always a trustworthy sign when you see a book adapted for the big screen by the same person. Ian McEwan wrote the bittersweet love story in 2007, and it’s his hands on the screenplay that first time director Dominic Cooke places a classy touch on for the theater version. Taking a story from the page to the visual screen is never a bumpy road, but with a tale like this, the director can manage the ride even with bald tires.

It helps that the actors bring their potent A-game to the screen. Ronan just dazzled us with her witty portrayal of teenage rebellion in Greta Gerwig’s Oscar darling, Lady Bird and captured our hearts with the enigmatic love story, Brooklyn, as well as Atonement. Here, she settles easily into Florence’s habitat, a woman defined by her past, which included a fairly conventional and strict upbringing.

Florence’s upbringing clashes with the unconventional past of Edward, who is besieged with innocence by Howle, who looks like the long lost brother of Daniel Bruhl. While Edward has plenty of dialogue, Howle’s best moments are when he lets his highly expressive face do some of the heavy lifting, especially in the second half of the film. You may know and adore Ronan, but you’ll leave wanting to see more of Howle. He carries the final third of the film, when all the weight of the film’s big themes start to settle.

You see, Florence grew up where the grass grew nearly as tall as the money that it surrounded, while Edward was riddled with an overworked father and two sisters who had to help with a mother struggling with brain damage. He’s more dirt under his fingernails, but has a love for history, music, and wildlife. In a way, he’s a wilbury cut off from his band of rebels, trying to track down innocence.

He found it in Florence, a classical violinist who dreams of playing in the neighborhood theater and making it as a musician. While the film takes off on their awkwardly cluttered wedding night, the story takes us back to their upbringing and shows us not only how they, but how they grew closer together.

Everything comes to a head at Chesil Beach. If you think you know where it’s going from the trailer, think again. This isn’t Desperate Housewives, the 1962 version. What transpires between Edward and Florence that night will define the rest of their lives, and the film does a great job of keeping you off balance during the first hour before anything big happens.

For me, a late scene between an older man at a record shop and a young girl who seems overly familiar broke my heart, and this is where Howle’s restrained and understated approach paid off so well. In this short scene, the entire movie floods over your emotions. You won’t understand heartache until you watch this movie.

I respect On Chesil Beach’s brave storytelling and the ability to ignite a conversation about how sexual desires played out back in the 1960’s and the effect it could have on a couple people from different backgrounds. This is the kind of story and film that McEwan needed to write, the kind of tale a scribe must get out of his head. It’s also the perfect fodder for a romantic drama on the big screen.

There’s nothing fancy about love, and that’s how Cooke and McEwan treat the characters. Unlike most creators, they won’t cater to how the audience wants a story to end. Their biggest concerns are staying true to the characters they created. I respected the bravery of this film, even if a late moment gave me an urge to reconsider.

The way the film balances a rock n’ roll soundtrack, which is Edward’s speed for life, to the classical and restrained music, which is what defines Florence, is extremely well done.

Life is defined by choice, which can be triggered by desire. Your need to want something will force a decision to be made going one way or another. I liked how On Chesil Beach got me thinking about choice, marriage, and the effect it can have on a life 10, 20, or even 40 years later.

An unconventional love story that spans nearly 45+ years, On Chesil Beach will challenge you, provoke a reaction, and start a conversation about what a marriage could-and could not-live without.