It’s entirely possible, even likely, that the person reading this review right now has never heard of Edward Burns, let alone seen any of his films. Coming just a year after the wild success of Kevin Smith’s Clerks, Burns’ The Brothers McMullen was the triumph of the 1995 Sundance Film Festival, winning the Grand Jury Prize. It would go on to a modest if unmistakably successful theatrical run — in fact, it was the first release from the newly christened Fox Searchlight Pictures. Burns was championed as the next Woody Allen (or the film as the second coming of Barry Levinson’s Diner), but with a more masculine persona that replaced Allen’s fussy neurosis with a sort of winking, self-conscious Catholic guilt. Burns had the look of a grunge-era frontman, and when he wasn’t writing, directing, and starring in his own films, he branched out into a tentative mainstream acting career, appearing most notably in a supporting role in Saving Private Ryan, before a bunch of other projects mostly lost to the ravages of time.
But the man has never stopped working, even if almost everyone stopped paying attention. In a very real way, his career runs parallel to the current state of indie film distribution and exhibition: small, character-driven films that used to fill screens in between the blockbuster releases that now exist almost solely as streaming fodder or have been reworked and hideously distended into 10-episode prestige series, desperate to capture the zeitgeist’s attention for a week or two. It’s no marketplace for old men, but part of the charm of Burns’ Millers in Marriage is just how profoundly uncool it is, fully unconcerned with what’s hip or fashionable. It’s a late-middle age film, featuring characters who are old enough to be achingly aware of how life works but still just young enough to want to fight for a fresh start.
As the film begins, we’re introduced to a close-knit extended family and their romantic misadventures; Andy Miller (Ed Burns) is an artist who has recently separated from his wife, Tina (Morena Baccarin). Andy’s sister Eve (Gretchen Mol), a former indie rock musician, is married to Scott (Patrick Wilson), a working musician and barely functional alcoholic. Older sister Maggie Miller (Julianna Margulies) is a successful novelist married to Nick (Campbell Scott), also a writer who is currently struggling after his last novel received negative reviews. Meanwhile, Andy has taken up with Renee (Minnie Driver), a divorced executive who was once Tina’s boss, while Maggie is having a dalliance with Dennis (Brian d’Arcy James). The film bounces around between the various couples both before and after a weekend getaway, where relationships splinter and animosities fester. It’s all very literary, if in a dime store Cheever sort of way.
Eventually, Eve emerges from the ensemble as the center of narrative attention. Old-school music critic Johnny (Benjamin Bratt) is writing a book on the ’90s indie scene and remembers Eve’s band. She gave up her rockstar dreams to marry Scott and raise their children, but now that they’re empty-nesters she spends much of her time wondering “what if?” For his part, husband Scott is a huge asshole, and it’s a wonder Eve hasn’t already dumped him ages ago. The other couples have similar issues, all of them contending with differing levels of success and old grudges that have been exacerbated by time and general restlessness. Burns jumps around from couple to couple, inserting numerous flashbacks that fill in key backstories and occasionally act as punchlines; in fact, this approach to narrative makes one wish that Burns would fully commit to a sort of Alain Resnais narrative abstraction, more freely blurring past and present. But then Burns has never been that sort of formalist.
There’s a kind of meandering, genial charm to the film’s proceedings, but just because something is refreshing in its resolute old-fashioned nature doesn’t necessarily mean it’s good. Burns the screenwriter has a tendency toward bluntness; there’s no real poetry to the language here, nor any compelling rhythms. And the upper class milieu occasionally engenders a raised eyebrow — no one with homes this nice should be so miserable (at least one character has the sense to recognize these people’s “champagne problems.” Ultimately, as these things go, lessons are learned, emotions are examined, and at least one person gets a happy ending. But if Millers in Marriage occasionally veers too close to Live Laugh Love cliche, there’s still some pleasure in seeing a movie about grown-ups that’s made for grown-ups. Indeed, it’s hard to imagine anyone under 40 caring much about anything happening in Millers in Marriage, but for those of us of a certain age, there are some hard truths buried under the film’s lifestyle magazine spread aesthetic.
DIRECTOR: Edward Burns; CAST: Edward Burns, Julianna Margulies, Gretchen Mol, Minnie Driver; DISTRIBUTOR: Republic Pictures; IN THEATERS: February 21; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 57 min.
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