Divorce and separation are subjects too important to be treated in the bizarre
way Alan Parker treats them in "Shoot the Moon" which is a film with lots of
emotion but no heart.
The film has been crafted in such a slick, superficially fashionable way
that it appears to be attuned to reality, but there are disappointingly few
moments in the film that are recognizably genuine. "Shoot the Moon" is more
about theatrical convention than it is about a major social phenomenon of which
we're all painfully aware.
What "Moon" reveals is Parker's unsuitability for material that doesn't
lend itself to dramatically exploitive treatment. Parker's "Midnight Express"
and "Fame" are two unabashed melodramas that succeed as virtuoso demonstrations
of drive and energy; they're thrashing, furious films that you couldn't help
responding to.
Although "Moon" wants to be about a family divided by a divorce, it's
actually a sentimentalized rationalization of a husband / father's willingness
to break up with his wife and leave her and their four young daughters to fend
for themselves. We're plunged into the breakup with scarcely a context for it.
We're left to speculate that George (Albert Finney) has taken up with another
woman (Karen Allen) because the ubiquitousness of his four daughters (who come
off as pint-sized Marx Brothers) has worn him out. But the film doesn't have
the courage to stipulate it; the film implies, instead, that George loves and
is concerned about his daughters. George doesn't even have to say that he can't
say why he wants to leave. The omission of his motivation is crucial; we're
asked to sympathize with George with no tangible reason for doing so.
George's wife Faith (superbly played by Diane Keaton) is a wonderful,
devoted homemaker who doesn't need or want to worry aboutworking outside the
home. She's done nothing to deserve George's mistreatment except to stay home
full time and raise his children. But again, a fundamental miscalculation in
the film: Faith's transition from dependent to independent woman is achieved
with remarkable, even breathtaking, facility. No sooner does she (literally)
pack George out of the house than she's mooning over the (earthy) contractor
(Peter Weller) who's come to put in a tennis court. Faith doesn't explain her
change of heart any more than George explained his. We're required to assume
it.
We're also required to accept George's and Faith's comfortable financial
circumstances even though there's no indication George's writing has generated
wealth. In fact, money seldom seems to be an issue (the biggest fantasy of
all). The principals seem to have an abundance of time and energy to devote to
their emotional lives.
The worst thing about the film is its shocking conclusion. I can't describe
it here for fear of jeopardizing its impact on the viewer. The ending is,
however, gratuitously shocking in terms of the mood and tone that have been
established to that point. In a way, it mocks the film as we've perceived it to
that point. We feel cheated, conned. The insensitive conclusion makes you
wonder what director Parker and scenarist Bo Goldman were thinking of.
"Shoot the Moon" isn't a reprehensible film. It's a film of feverishly
emotional scenes and images without a context to place them against. Although
Keaton's performance may be the best she's ever given, it suffers against
Finney's muted, solemn brooding, for which I blame the script and the
direction.
There are moments in this film in which it can be seen as an attempt, no
matter how misconceived, to portray divorce and separation from several points
of view, including those of the children. In fact, the scenes with the children
are the best moments. But, in the final analysis, these scenes generate more
warmth than a film as cold and bleak as this one deserves. There's a desolation
of spirit about this movie that is unnerving and disquieting. The desolation is
no more understandable when it's unaccounted for. It is merely bizarre and
mystifying - and incomprehensible.
Copyright © 1982 Globe Newspaper Company