Feast of Love Review
By Lexi Feinberg
"Feast" of Burden
The only thing worse than getting involved in a phony love affair is watching several of them unfold throughout the course of a movie. "Feast of Love," the latest effort by director Robert Benton (who's done everything from the great "Kramer vs. Kramer" to the far-from-great "The Human Stain"), is riddled with good intentions and heartfelt musings - it's just too bad that it all seems like a charade, romance by way of a Hallmark card. Though, on the plus side, it is a step up from writer Allison Burnett's previous gag-inducing screenplay for "Autumn in New York." Take that as you will.
"Feast of Love," based on the book by Charles Baxter, is set in a too-close-for-comfort community in Oregon, where everyone's lives are tangled together like bodies in a game of Twister. The story is narrated by Harry (Morgan Freeman), a pensive professor who gets the 411 on others' romances by eavesdropping in a coffee shop, owned by Bradley (Greg Kinnear). What he learns is that Bradley is unlucky in love and married to a woman (Selma Blair) who would rather be with a girl on her softball team; and youngsters Oscar (the androgynous Toby Hemingway) and Chloe (the Brooke Shields-esque Alexa Davalos) become obsessed at first sight. It all makes his marriage to Esther (Jane Alexander) seem perfectly healthy in comparison, though they're reeling from the heartbreaking loss of their son.
It's a standard enough setup for a lovelorn ensemble piece, but there's a bit too much heavy-handed artifice to rise above its woe-is-me conventions. When Bradley's wife gives him the heave-ho - his inattentiveness, such as not knowing the color of her eyes, has turned her off to men completely - he proceeds to jump into another relationship with outgoing real estate agent Diana (Radha Mitchell), a woman who is clearly somewhere else emotionally but he's too oblivious to take note. He fancies himself a romantic, but he seems to shack up with anyone who shows him the slightest hint of interest. There's another word for that - desperate.
Since he seems to put the "hopeless" in "hopeless romantic," let's shift our attention to Chloe and Oscar. These pretty, lovesick 20-somethings fall head over heels the first day they meet, have sex the first time they spot a bed together, wax poetic about the future while Jeff Buckley's "Halleluyah" plays overhead and spew cheesy lines like "I'll protect you from anything." It's all so ridiculous that it's hard to be moved when things head in a tragic direction, eerily foreshadowed by a psychic. (Since when do they spell out doom and gloom at readings, anyway? They usually shower you with sunshine to make you feel like you wasted your money for good reason.)
"Feast of Love," while not unbearable to watch, mainly due to the scenes between Freeman and Alexander, ails from an overly hammy script and relationships that seem molded after characters from silly daytime serials. This pseudo-earnest, wannabe tearjerker gives it a solid go, but ultimately amounts to little more than a light, unsatisfying snack that leaves you craving more.
