Two lovers

The film that inspired Joaquin Phoenix to adopt that bizarre fictional rapping persona – we never really bought it, right? – finally hits our shores with a reasonably pleasing thump. Like several other James Gray titles – The Yards, We Own the Night, pretty much everything that director has done – it’s hard to know how we’re supposed to take Two Lovers. We just know that we like it.
As with We Own the Night, everything here is very much of the movie-verse; the plot lines are reliable Hollywood classics, the delivery is heightened, the cast is implausibly good-looking and starry.
It takes a certain kind of chutzpah to hire Isabella Rossellini to play Mr. Phoenix’s working-class, dry-cleaner mom. But Two Lovers’ tenuous grasp of reality doesn’t stop there. Hang on a second. Isn’t it kind of unlikely that Joaquin Phoenix would be a dateless wonder living with his parents who accidentally winds up courting two hot chicks on the same day? Gwyneth Paltrow plays the conveniently located promiscuous party-girl next door. Vinessa Shaw is an incredible stretch for Gwynnie’s Miss Lonelyhearts rival. Isn’t this the plot of one of the Porky’s sequels?
Mr. Gray’s direction is characteristically ambiguous. There are moments when this love triangle looks very Cassevetian. There are other times when it feels like we’re watching a bad French sex comedy. Mostly, however, Two Lovers is that ‘50s afternoon-telly classic, Marty. It’s not Marty updated for the go-go twenty-first century. It’s just regular old Marty with a few tweaks.
That’s fine by us. Who doesn’t like Marty? Still, you can’t help but wonder if someday soon, the director will make a startling confession. ‘Ah ha!’ he’ll say, ‘I’ve been deliberately making really trashy movies and all you idiots bought it.’ Either way, he has our vote.