Post by bingbong on Aug 24, 2007 13:02:12 GMT 12
This looks like a good Movie to watch out for.
The Devil Wears Down Her Nanny
By STEPHEN HOLDEN
Published: August 24, 2007
“The Nanny Diaries,” a scattershot screen adaptation of Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus’s 2002 satirical beach read, has one unassailable asset. As this exposé of the rich and miserable on the Upper East Side wobbles along uncertainly, it rests on the tense, squared shoulders of Laura Linney. Ms. Linney defies a screenplay that paints her character, Mrs. X, a Park Avenue socialite, as a monstrous control freak. She is a smart, flexible actress who invests her role, a composite of former employers of the novel’s authors, with enough humanity to arouse some pity.
More About This Movie
In the Land of Nannies and Poodles (August 19, 2007)
Video
More Video »
The movie, like the book, is narrated by Annie Braddock (Scarlett Johansson), a New Jersey-born anthropology student hired by Mrs. X to be the latest in a stream of nannies for her spoiled little boy, Grayer (Nicholas Reese Art). In many ways Mrs. X is as much a slave driver as Miranda Priestly, the fashion editor indelibly played by Meryl Streep in the movie version of the novel “The Devil Wears Prada.”
But Ms. Linney’s rich, high-strung snob and Ms. Streep’s chilly fashion empress are markedly different personalities. Mrs. X, for all her pretensions of grandeur, must answer to her husband (Paul Giamatti), a crude, ugly, foulmouthed boor who keeps his wife on a tight leash. (In one of his few exchanges with his son Mr. X barks to Grayer that he had better be ready to take over the world next week.) Miranda, however, calls the shots in her life. Where Ms. Linney’s Park Avenue mother can be heard screaming at her husband behind closed doors, Ms. Streep’s Miranda never, ever raises her voice.
The screen adaptations of these two chick-lit blockbusters follow the same formulaic path from naïveté to shock to disillusionment and ultimately to purification. In both stories the dutiful young acolytes become so caught up in their bosses’ horrid compulsions that their very souls are threatened; friends and family go by the wayside.
Annie lies to her mother, a nurse (Donna Murphy) who has pinched pennies to pay for her daughter’s college education, by telling her she has a trainee job on Wall Street. Her relationship with her childhood best friend (Alicia Keys) also suffers. But just before the big bad wolves — the rich and powerful — are about devour the Little Red Riding Hoods in these books, they see the light and parachute into improbably soft landings.
Because “The Nanny Diaries” is essentially a two-character story whose supporting players are wooden props, it would help if the actors playing the two were evenly matched. But Ms. Johansson’s Annie, who narrates the movie in a glum, plodding voice, is a leaden screen presence, devoid of charm and humor. With her heavy-lidded eyes and plump lips, Ms. Johansson may smolder invitingly in certain roles, but “The Nanny Diaries” is the latest in a string of films that suggest that this somnolent actress confuses sullen attitudinizing with acting.
Especially at the beginning of “The Nanny Diaries” there are signs that its directing and writing team, Robert Pulcini and Shari Springer Berman, had a different movie in mind. The pair, who created “American Splendor,” the quirky portrait of the Cleveland comic-book writer Harvey Pekar, make amusing use of Annie’s anthropology studies. In a sequence at the American Museum of Natural History, Annie, playing tour guide, points to various social types, posed like prehistoric figures in dioramas. In a Mary Poppins-inspired fantasy, she is also shown sailing across the New York skyline under a red umbrella.
But such whimsical touches have no connection with the substance of the movie, which consists mostly of soapsuds. The storytelling is rushed and sloppy. It’s only a matter of days before the boy in Annie’s charge makes a ludicrous U-turn from hellion into little angel.
In books and movies like “The Nanny Diaries,” which play to our voyeuristic schadenfreude regarding the lives of the rich and powerful, it is essential to pile on the juicy inside details that show exactly how these people drive themselves and everyone around them crazy. Although “The Nanny Diaries” has an abundance of such details, the movie is in far too much of a hurry to take a breath and develop them into polished comic set pieces.
There is Mrs. X’s list of house rules: Grayer is encouraged to read the financial press and is directed toward all things French. (At a French-theme birthday party two Marcel Marceau-like mimes present Grayer’s birthday cake with icing that spells “bonne fête.”) Grayer’s diet (including ice cream) is to consist almost entirely of soy products. The West Side is strictly off-limits (socially inferior), as is the subway (too many germs).
At a ghastly costume party with an American-history theme in Mr. X’s office, Annie is forced to dress like Betsy Ross. When Grayer insists on using his father’s private bathroom, Annie stumbles into Mr. X’s inner sanctum to find him canoodling with an assistant. The movie’s most biting sequence is of an obligatory mommy-nanny seminar at which cowering nannies (most from poor countries and with limited English) are encouraged to air their grievances against their employers and achieve harmony.
This rigged group-therapy session, whose facilitator wears a frozen smile and addresses the assembly in the unctuous tones of a grade-school teacher, is the only scene in the movie to hint at the rot under the charade. Nothing is allowed to disturb the fantasy of perfect moms making perfect lives for their perfect children. For an ugly, satisfying moment, the rock is lifted.
“The Nanny Diaries” is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). It has some profanity.
THE NANNY DIARIES
Opens today nationwide.
Written and directed by Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini, based on the novel by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus; director of photography, Terry Stacey; edited by Mr. Pulcini; music by Mark Suozzo; production designer, Mark Ricker; produced by Richard N. Gladstein; released by Metro Goldwyn Mayer and the Weinstein Company. Running time: 105 minutes.
WITH: Scarlett Johansson (Annie Braddock), Laura Linney (Mrs. X), Paul Giamatti (Mr. X), Nicholas Reese Art (Grayer), Donna Murphy (Judy Braddock), Alicia Keys (Lynette) and Chris Evans (Harvard Hottie).
The Devil Wears Down Her Nanny
By STEPHEN HOLDEN
Published: August 24, 2007
“The Nanny Diaries,” a scattershot screen adaptation of Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus’s 2002 satirical beach read, has one unassailable asset. As this exposé of the rich and miserable on the Upper East Side wobbles along uncertainly, it rests on the tense, squared shoulders of Laura Linney. Ms. Linney defies a screenplay that paints her character, Mrs. X, a Park Avenue socialite, as a monstrous control freak. She is a smart, flexible actress who invests her role, a composite of former employers of the novel’s authors, with enough humanity to arouse some pity.
More About This Movie
In the Land of Nannies and Poodles (August 19, 2007)
Video
More Video »
The movie, like the book, is narrated by Annie Braddock (Scarlett Johansson), a New Jersey-born anthropology student hired by Mrs. X to be the latest in a stream of nannies for her spoiled little boy, Grayer (Nicholas Reese Art). In many ways Mrs. X is as much a slave driver as Miranda Priestly, the fashion editor indelibly played by Meryl Streep in the movie version of the novel “The Devil Wears Prada.”
But Ms. Linney’s rich, high-strung snob and Ms. Streep’s chilly fashion empress are markedly different personalities. Mrs. X, for all her pretensions of grandeur, must answer to her husband (Paul Giamatti), a crude, ugly, foulmouthed boor who keeps his wife on a tight leash. (In one of his few exchanges with his son Mr. X barks to Grayer that he had better be ready to take over the world next week.) Miranda, however, calls the shots in her life. Where Ms. Linney’s Park Avenue mother can be heard screaming at her husband behind closed doors, Ms. Streep’s Miranda never, ever raises her voice.
The screen adaptations of these two chick-lit blockbusters follow the same formulaic path from naïveté to shock to disillusionment and ultimately to purification. In both stories the dutiful young acolytes become so caught up in their bosses’ horrid compulsions that their very souls are threatened; friends and family go by the wayside.
Annie lies to her mother, a nurse (Donna Murphy) who has pinched pennies to pay for her daughter’s college education, by telling her she has a trainee job on Wall Street. Her relationship with her childhood best friend (Alicia Keys) also suffers. But just before the big bad wolves — the rich and powerful — are about devour the Little Red Riding Hoods in these books, they see the light and parachute into improbably soft landings.
Because “The Nanny Diaries” is essentially a two-character story whose supporting players are wooden props, it would help if the actors playing the two were evenly matched. But Ms. Johansson’s Annie, who narrates the movie in a glum, plodding voice, is a leaden screen presence, devoid of charm and humor. With her heavy-lidded eyes and plump lips, Ms. Johansson may smolder invitingly in certain roles, but “The Nanny Diaries” is the latest in a string of films that suggest that this somnolent actress confuses sullen attitudinizing with acting.
Especially at the beginning of “The Nanny Diaries” there are signs that its directing and writing team, Robert Pulcini and Shari Springer Berman, had a different movie in mind. The pair, who created “American Splendor,” the quirky portrait of the Cleveland comic-book writer Harvey Pekar, make amusing use of Annie’s anthropology studies. In a sequence at the American Museum of Natural History, Annie, playing tour guide, points to various social types, posed like prehistoric figures in dioramas. In a Mary Poppins-inspired fantasy, she is also shown sailing across the New York skyline under a red umbrella.
But such whimsical touches have no connection with the substance of the movie, which consists mostly of soapsuds. The storytelling is rushed and sloppy. It’s only a matter of days before the boy in Annie’s charge makes a ludicrous U-turn from hellion into little angel.
In books and movies like “The Nanny Diaries,” which play to our voyeuristic schadenfreude regarding the lives of the rich and powerful, it is essential to pile on the juicy inside details that show exactly how these people drive themselves and everyone around them crazy. Although “The Nanny Diaries” has an abundance of such details, the movie is in far too much of a hurry to take a breath and develop them into polished comic set pieces.
There is Mrs. X’s list of house rules: Grayer is encouraged to read the financial press and is directed toward all things French. (At a French-theme birthday party two Marcel Marceau-like mimes present Grayer’s birthday cake with icing that spells “bonne fête.”) Grayer’s diet (including ice cream) is to consist almost entirely of soy products. The West Side is strictly off-limits (socially inferior), as is the subway (too many germs).
At a ghastly costume party with an American-history theme in Mr. X’s office, Annie is forced to dress like Betsy Ross. When Grayer insists on using his father’s private bathroom, Annie stumbles into Mr. X’s inner sanctum to find him canoodling with an assistant. The movie’s most biting sequence is of an obligatory mommy-nanny seminar at which cowering nannies (most from poor countries and with limited English) are encouraged to air their grievances against their employers and achieve harmony.
This rigged group-therapy session, whose facilitator wears a frozen smile and addresses the assembly in the unctuous tones of a grade-school teacher, is the only scene in the movie to hint at the rot under the charade. Nothing is allowed to disturb the fantasy of perfect moms making perfect lives for their perfect children. For an ugly, satisfying moment, the rock is lifted.
“The Nanny Diaries” is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). It has some profanity.
THE NANNY DIARIES
Opens today nationwide.
Written and directed by Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini, based on the novel by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus; director of photography, Terry Stacey; edited by Mr. Pulcini; music by Mark Suozzo; production designer, Mark Ricker; produced by Richard N. Gladstein; released by Metro Goldwyn Mayer and the Weinstein Company. Running time: 105 minutes.
WITH: Scarlett Johansson (Annie Braddock), Laura Linney (Mrs. X), Paul Giamatti (Mr. X), Nicholas Reese Art (Grayer), Donna Murphy (Judy Braddock), Alicia Keys (Lynette) and Chris Evans (Harvard Hottie).