The mash-up that is Life Itself from Dan Fogelman is quite the quagmire to digest. Dan Fogelman wrote and directed this simultaneously compelling and emotionally manipulative with an all-star cast whose characters’ stories intermingle with the subtlety of a city bus killing someone at a crosswalk.
Yet, it is so brilliantly written in parts that as a writer, there is despair in thinking that I could never elevate my prose to the verbal painting the This is Us creator/writer has crafted for his actors to emotively deliver. At the same time, there is much that could be used for actors to utilize as rich monologue material for auditions, but one would never quote this movie extensively as its hyperbole is extensively obvious.
The anchor of Fogelman’s valiant attempt at strapping his audience in for an emotional rollercoaster is Will and Abby (Oscar Isaac and Olivia Wilde). Through some lose playing with a timeline, we fluctuate from present to past and zig-zag everywhere in between with these two lovebirds. Their fateful romance reverberates throughout the entirety that is Life Itself. One of my biggest movie pet peeves is vast ensembles whose interconnectivity feels forced upon the audience by the auteur behind the camera. Fogelman triumphs stunningly in that department with his hit TV show and with his work on Crazy Stupid Love but finds himself somewhere in between that level of success and my pet peeve with his first film effort since This is Us became a sensation.
The cast fills out with the always great Mandy Patinkin as Irwin, Will’s father and Jean Smart (also always great) as his mom, Linda. Annette Bening provides some stimulating insight as Will’s therapist, Dr. Cait Morris, yet Fogelman fails to have her insight permeate throughout his film as much as he does with what others utter—that honestly carries less emotive and sub-textual weight. It’s a missed opportunity and one of the reasons why the film lands on the pet peeve side of my feelings on vast ensembles whose connections are flimsy at best.
Meanwhile, Antonio Banderas is given one of the richer parts he’s been offered in years as Mr. Saccione, a Spanish land owner who employs Javier (Sergio Peris-Mencheta) to help run his olive growing estate. Saccione becomes quite attached to Javier’s wife Isabel (Laia Costa) and young son, Rodrigo (played by a few actors as he ages). Although their “chapter” (the tale is told through several book-like chapters with these varied characters) is beautiful to see and hear with it all being in the gorgeous language that is Spanish—the connection to the Abby and Will anchor feels more opaque than organic. Considering the weight that this element was meant to have, it makes the web that is woven amongst our characters feel flimsier than firm.
The thing about Life Itself that is encouraging is that filmmakers, circa 2018, tend to play it safe more often than they swing for the fence. Taking risks is rare in Hollywood, so when an artist heads off the high-dive I feel that the effort should be encouraged and lauded. Fresh from the medium of television that allows Fogelman to spread his storytelling wings over hours and hours. Given his penchant for intertwining emotional character arcs, it is a format that fits him impeccably. By the closing credits of his film, one can see that perhaps having several seasons of a television milieu might have been a better fit for this innately soul-searching group. That feeling forced aspect of Life Itself might have arisen from having to compress his far-reaching stories into barely over 100 pages of script whereas television, truthfully, allows him thousands.
One can see why people adore This is Us. Fogelman is a gifted writer. The utilization of his rich and vast vocabulary allows his characters to present sensationally sweeping commentaries on life, death, love, fate, choices made and missed, as well as life’s sweet highs and harrowing lows. Sadly, Life Itself doesn’t come remotely near the punch he is able to deliver week in and week out on NBC. But, there are signs throughout the film of his firm command of the power of the written word. It is just this effort is much more misguided than meaningfully magnificent.
Grade: C