Ready, set, shoot: woman, reeling from trauma or caught up in the deadening grind a la Americain, is in a slump. Woman packs her bags and gets off to an exotic locale. Woman gets immersed in a rejuvenating cultural experience preferably with the help of a hot guy, who shows her the sights and converts her to a new philosophy of living. Final shot; woman triumphant, who has not only recaptured her bloom but evolved into the woman she's meant to become.
Tell me this sounds unfamiliar and I'll call you a liar.
Under the Tuscan Sun falls squarely in the holiday romance genre, which has contributed to its fair share of movie specials adored by romantics the world over. Sabrina, French Kiss, and How Stella Got Her Groove Back are some of the cr?me brulees we've savored, that have stayed hot, hot, piping hot, long after their debut.
We'll get to how successfully Tuscan Sun measures up to these classic indulgences later, but the previews show why the genre can be as satisfying as digesting a box of chocolates over a Harlequin romance: the romantic Italian towns, lovable locals, foreign hunk and jaw-dropping landscapes of sun-drenched piazzas, cypress gardens and fields upon fields of golden sunflowers, truly makes for another world.
Frances Mayes makes her daily bread by teaching creative writing and penning book reviews. She's irresistibly likable, because the autumnal beauty of Diane Lane suits her so well, and because the screen writers had the sense to give her lines befitting a clever woman.
We first meet her, elegant and refined, at a party she has thrown for a successfully published student. A friend asks her how her own book is going, and she replies with charming self-deprecation, "Not so well, but the procrastination is going fabulously."
"How do you get your brownies to be so delicious?" asks another.
"Chocolate is all about timing," she replies with a mysterious smile. Now this is a woman.
It turns out that she has been supporting her husband, who has taken time off to work on his own book. As her friend comments, her beau is one hell of a lucky guy: this woman is generous, has a literary mind and bakes brownies like an angel. But it doesn't seem to be enough; midway through the party, when she's informed by a miffed colleague (whose book she trashed in a recent review) that her husband has been doing most of his "research" in bed with a pretty young heiress. In fact, she's devastated. That's not all. Frances is forced to give up her house, which she has lovingly furnished with her small inheritance, to her ex and his mistress. You get the feeling that this strikes a bigger blow than the divorce.
Watching her longingly looking around one last time, unable to remove anything from this gracious heaven she has created, you understand why. This is a woman for whom four walls is a challenge to create perfection, who needs no interior decorator to complement an unerring taste. Deprived of her own special place, she simply has no roots. Frances moves into what her Asian friend amusingly calls "Camp Divorce" -- an apartment building full of divorcees who have never really managed to get on with their lives. The lawyer in the apartment next door sobs all night long, but will give legal advice if you ask him nicely, and a doctor upstairs distributes Prozac. The landlord jokes that Frances can help all the rest of the tenants with their suicide notes.
Months drag by and the Asian friend, played by Sandra Oh, tells her that her depression has gone on for too long. She forces a ticket to a Tuscany tour on Frances, who eventually takes it. Voila! Tuscany happens, and you can almost feel the dopamine rush as the setting changes from a sullen, urban jungle in the United States to jeweled fields, olive groves, long drives winding around the azure Mediterranean, and adorable little towns tucked away on hills like jaunty caps. As Frances mingles in Italian bazaars and feasts on the sights and sounds of Tuscany, you'll thank God that there is always Europe for lonely, depressed American women.
I had one reservation, though. While you genuinely feel for Frances as she begins to taste life again, at this point you feel like you're flipping through the glossy pages of a Conde Nast. The landscapes are jaw-shattering and the people give the right splashes of local color, but I kept wondering if the movie will ever move from a vicarious tourist experience and deliver a story of its own. The good news: this one does, and how!
As it turns out, this holiday romance isn't a romance at all; instead of girl-finds-boy, this is really a girl-finds-house story. The jewel at the core of Tuscan Sun's plot is the 300-year-old, run down Italian villa that Frances magically stumbles across and decides to make her home. The minute you see it, with its pink ivy covered walls, tiled roof and gold toned rooms, you know that this film has that elusive spark that turns a watchable movie into a lovely one. How this vulnerable woman creates a home for herself out of this villa, and how she unexpectedly gains a family to fill it and her new life, makes for two plus hours of wonderful storytelling.
Flanked by a solid cast, Diane Lane is luminous as the vulnerable, expectant Frances. With her role in Tuscan Sun following up on her turn as an errant housewife in Unfaithful, she proves herself to be one of Hollywood's most underrated actresses. Color and comedy is skillfully handled in the American-in-Italy moments, where Frances deals with odd ball locals: the aging has-been actress who wears broad brimmed hats and swims in the town fountain when drunk, the utterly adorable Polish contractors who fix up her house, the old lady who sells her the house only after a pigeon poops on her (a sign of God).
And if you're the type who doesn't get interested in movie romances unless there is a hotter-than-Celsius 100 guy, you won't be disappointed. The hunk Lane trips over halfway through justifies all the stereotypes of Italian gorgeousness that have ever existed. Be warned though; the real romance is the with the house.
Despite its unconvincing caricatures of Italians, Tuscan Sun is a strong, solid, warm film that wins its own forgiveness by making you falling in love with all the characters, especially Lane, by its end. Keep an eye cocked for the mysterious symbol of fulfillment that the movie closes on. My vote: this is precisely the indulgence you might be looking for to put some sunshine on a rainy day.
Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The News-Letter.