Director Anne Wheeler's "Suddenly Naked" is a romantic comedy/mid-life crisis story whose protagonist Jackie York (Wendy Crewson) is a successful and somewhat infamous novelist reminiscent - intentionally, the name suggests - of Jackie Collins but with greater literary cachet. We are introduced to the character as she approaches both her 40th birthday and an alcohol-induced breakdown. The latter has been triggered by writer's bloc and by the humiliation of having been publicly dumped by a much younger man, an aspiring movie director who also seduced her out of the filming rights to her previous novel.
Jackie's comic redemption begins when she finally encounters a young novelist with whom she has been conducting a stimulating e-mail correspondence and mentorship. Having developed a remote crush for the writer, she has no idea that her fantasy soul mate is a mere 20 years old. This confusion serves as the basis for the film's very clever "meet cute" scene. Flustered, rain-bedraggled, and unwittingly observed by the young writer, Jackie enters a restaurant meeting spot and immediately assumes that a handsome, nattily dressed middle-aged gentleman is the person she had arranged to meet. After patiently listening to her long, acerbically witty monologue, the man finally admits to not having a clue who she is. When Jackie asks why in that case he let her rant on, his answer precisely captures the viewer's motive for following the film's first two acts: "I was fascinated to know what you were going to say next!"
Unfortunately, after spending two thirds of its running time setting up and developing a wonderfully dynamic - if shrewish and neurotically self-absorbed - character, Elyse Friedman's screenplay devotes its last third to taming Jackie into a simpering, cliché -mouthing "kind" person. By the end of "Suddenly Naked," I felt rather like Greta Garbo must have when she cried "Give me back my Beast!" upon the appearance of the Prince in the last scene of "La Belle et la Bete." Only making matters worse, Friedman tries to disarm objections to the film's own schmaltzy ending by having the young writer's novel praised for "daring" to have a happy, tear-jerking ending in an era of cynical nihilism. Unfortunately this touch of postmodern self-consciousness has itself become too much of a cliché to rescue sappiness and dimwittedness from itself.
Another problem with "Suddenly Naked" is that, for all the initial appeal of its female protagonist, the love affair with the young writer Patrick McKeating (Joe Cobden) only works on the "zipless" level and not in the reverse "Harold and Maude," life-affirming, love idealizing manner obviously intended. With his juggling tricks and anti- sophisticated manners, Patrick does have a goofy appeal, but it's more in the vein of Tom Hanks in "Big" than Tobey Maguire in "The Wonder Boys." It's no accident that his wittiest phrase ("my magic johnson") relates to his sexual rather than creative writing powers. Even though it was predictably impossible, I kept hoping that Jackie's pretended romance with her friend and fellow writer Lionel Heathcote (Peter Coyote) would turn into her character's redeeming relationship - but no such luck. Coyote (as usual) plays his minor role with wonderful presence and steals every scene he's in, but although it's never explicitly stated his character's gender orientation apparently precludes such an alternative (and probably equally schmaltzy) ending.
The schmaltzy ending we do get is simply so extreme and prolonged that it utterly ruins an otherwise entertaining and sharply written romantic comedy with a very appealing heroine. The final scene, crosscutting between Jackie's keynote presentation at the P.E.N. Writers Conference and Patrick's ridiculously frustrated attempts to reach and enter the hotel where it is being held, really takes the cake. Having confessed the fraud of her work-in-progress in a TV interview, Jackie nonetheless writes enough of a new novel in the meantime to use it for her reading. Naturally, Patrick, disguised in a chef's uniform, arrives just in time to hear and embody its thematic punch line about true love's never being embarrassed. Too bad screenplays are not equally exempt.
Jackie's comic redemption begins when she finally encounters a young novelist with whom she has been conducting a stimulating e-mail correspondence and mentorship. Having developed a remote crush for the writer, she has no idea that her fantasy soul mate is a mere 20 years old. This confusion serves as the basis for the film's very clever "meet cute" scene. Flustered, rain-bedraggled, and unwittingly observed by the young writer, Jackie enters a restaurant meeting spot and immediately assumes that a handsome, nattily dressed middle-aged gentleman is the person she had arranged to meet. After patiently listening to her long, acerbically witty monologue, the man finally admits to not having a clue who she is. When Jackie asks why in that case he let her rant on, his answer precisely captures the viewer's motive for following the film's first two acts: "I was fascinated to know what you were going to say next!"
Unfortunately, after spending two thirds of its running time setting up and developing a wonderfully dynamic - if shrewish and neurotically self-absorbed - character, Elyse Friedman's screenplay devotes its last third to taming Jackie into a simpering, cliché -mouthing "kind" person. By the end of "Suddenly Naked," I felt rather like Greta Garbo must have when she cried "Give me back my Beast!" upon the appearance of the Prince in the last scene of "La Belle et la Bete." Only making matters worse, Friedman tries to disarm objections to the film's own schmaltzy ending by having the young writer's novel praised for "daring" to have a happy, tear-jerking ending in an era of cynical nihilism. Unfortunately this touch of postmodern self-consciousness has itself become too much of a cliché to rescue sappiness and dimwittedness from itself.
Another problem with "Suddenly Naked" is that, for all the initial appeal of its female protagonist, the love affair with the young writer Patrick McKeating (Joe Cobden) only works on the "zipless" level and not in the reverse "Harold and Maude," life-affirming, love idealizing manner obviously intended. With his juggling tricks and anti- sophisticated manners, Patrick does have a goofy appeal, but it's more in the vein of Tom Hanks in "Big" than Tobey Maguire in "The Wonder Boys." It's no accident that his wittiest phrase ("my magic johnson") relates to his sexual rather than creative writing powers. Even though it was predictably impossible, I kept hoping that Jackie's pretended romance with her friend and fellow writer Lionel Heathcote (Peter Coyote) would turn into her character's redeeming relationship - but no such luck. Coyote (as usual) plays his minor role with wonderful presence and steals every scene he's in, but although it's never explicitly stated his character's gender orientation apparently precludes such an alternative (and probably equally schmaltzy) ending.
The schmaltzy ending we do get is simply so extreme and prolonged that it utterly ruins an otherwise entertaining and sharply written romantic comedy with a very appealing heroine. The final scene, crosscutting between Jackie's keynote presentation at the P.E.N. Writers Conference and Patrick's ridiculously frustrated attempts to reach and enter the hotel where it is being held, really takes the cake. Having confessed the fraud of her work-in-progress in a TV interview, Jackie nonetheless writes enough of a new novel in the meantime to use it for her reading. Naturally, Patrick, disguised in a chef's uniform, arrives just in time to hear and embody its thematic punch line about true love's never being embarrassed. Too bad screenplays are not equally exempt.