Rupert Everett, Leslie Dixon, Tom Ropelewski,
and Mel Bordeaux
PG-13
Rupert Everett, Madonna, Benjamin Bratt, Malcolm
Stumpf, Neil Patrick Harris, Michael Vartan, Illeana Douglas,
and Lynn Redgrave
Tackling a hot-button issue of the moment is a very
difficult undertaking for a popular entertainment. Certainly,
the makers of the muddled THE NEXT BEST THING have their
hearts in the right place, bringing light and attention to the
complexities of gay parenting, gay/straight relationships, and
the new definitions of love and family in the 21st century. There's
no doubt that, in a different format more suited to emotional
grandstanding -- say, a feature in The New Yorker or a
TV movie of HBO quality -- this admirable but meandering effort
could have been quite successful.
Instead, however, it's a big Paramount movie starring
Ms. Zeitgeist herself, Madonna, and Hollywood's only openly gay
pinup star, Rupert Everett. It's also directed by one of the world's
greatest living directors, John Schlesinger (whose stellar career
includes MIDNIGHT COWBOY, MARATHON MAN, and the charming COLD
COMFORT FARM). Whatever social message might be imparted by THE
NEXT BEST THING, it's impact is ultimately muted by its inescapable
star wattage. Their luminous presence here, unfortunately, is
a detriment.
Abbie (Madonna) is a middle-aged yoga instructor in
L.A. who has just been jilted by her most recent boyfriend (Michael
Vartan). Her only comfort is her best friend, Robert (Everett),
a gay gardener (who seems to be her major emotional caretaker
as well). In an effort to cheer her up, the two share a drunken
July Fourth that ends up in a drunken moment of passion, as they
say. This one-time-only encounter, wouldn't you know it, has unexpected
results: Abbie is pregnant. She and Robert agree to raise their
child together, placing their romantic lives on hold in order
to create a nontraditional, but perfectly workable, family.
Fast forward six years, and their son, Sam (the adorable
Malcolm Stumpf) has become the focus of their lives: Abbie hasn't
dated for years, and Robert ends his possible relationships before
they even begin. But their focus on their son is disrupted by
the arrival of a new flame in Abbie's life (Benjamin Bratt), who
proposes marriage to Abbie. Suddenly the rights of gay parents
come into glaring focus, as the two struggle with finding a new
scenario for themselves and for Sam.
It's nearly impossible to come out of THE NEXT BEST
THING without disliking Madonna's character, Abbie; the film
is clearly slanted emotionally towards Everett's tribulations,
perhaps justifiably so. Abbie seems to have little regard for
her best friend's feelings, needs, or concerns, especially once
she has met a bona fide, heterosexual husband. Still, had this
film starred an actress capable of vulnerability, say, Minnie
Driver or Julia Roberts (whose last film with Everett, MY BEST
FRIEND'S WEDDING, dealt with straight girl/gay friend issues better),
THE NEXT BEST THING might have been engrossing.
For Madonna, as talented as she is musically and culturally,
isn't a very gifted actress; she's best suited to playing women
at least as strong and powerful as she is. (It's no coincidence
that her most successful work in films, EVITA, had her playing
no less than Eva Peron, the heroine of an entire country.) Whenever
stony-faced Abbie is in tears, it's very difficult to believe
she's actually sad about anything. Audiences may wonder aloud
about her completely selfish lack of concern for her son's welfare,
her best friend's needs, or anything that doesn't make her personally
happy. She's a user, and astonishingly unlikeable...trouble is,
we're supposed to care about her.
Co-author Everett comes out of the proceedings a bit
better. The buoyant energy he creates in the film is most welcome;
Everett exudes an assured charm and playful sensuality that recalls
Hollywood's Golden Age, evoking memories of Gable, Grant, and
Clift. Mainstream America may have difficulty accepting Everett
as an openly gay man playing openly gay characters, but they should
get over it quickly. The emotion, depth, and range he brings to
THE NEXT BEST THING should make it clear that he is one
of the most accomplished actors working today.
The supporting characters, for the most part, are underdeveloped.
Of them, the most interesting is Bratt, who deftly sidesteps his
place as homewrecker by bringing an honest sincerity and steady
presence to his role. Lynn Redgrave, playing Robert's slightly
eccentric mother, is wasted in a few throwaway scenes, as is Illeana
Douglas as a put-upon attorney and Neil Patrick Harris as a friend
with HIV. As the object of Abbie and Robert's affection, however,
Malcolm Stumpf is an irrepressible wave of childhood joy. Playing
Sam can't be as easy as it looks, but young Stumpf has both suprising
wit and aplomb to give the character added depth and clairity.
As the director, Schlesinger's work seems pedestrian
and workmanlike, showing none of the flourishes or nuance he brought
to his greatest efforts. His images are drab, and the camera work
is simply serviceable. The story itself flits from genre to genre
like a hummingbird, buddy comedy one minute, courtroom drama the
next, romantic pastiche the next, family film the next. As an
admitted fan, it's depressing to admit that Schlesinger's greatest
days may now be behind him.
THE NEXT BEST THING is an important film, but
not a particularly good one. While it may intrigue some gay activists
and scandalize some conservatives, for most of us, it simply won't
matter. Movies, socially aware or not, must be entertaining. And
in the final analysis, THE NEXT BEST THING isn't.
