December 12, 2003 | In an age when fast-and-furious youth-skewing farces are accepted, however grudgingly, as the contemporary equivalents of classical romantic comedies, it’s nothing short of delightful to encounter anything like Something’s Gotta Give, an uncommonly smart and sophisticated amusement made by, for and with grown-ups.
Credit Nancy Meyers (What Women Want) for writing a wonderfully wise and witty script, casting it with impeccable precision – Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton are the brilliant stars – and directing it at a gracefully unhurried pace that allows us ample time to spend with characters we want to spend a lot of time with.
As Harry Sanborn, a well-to-do sixtysomething bachelor who famously refrains from dating women over 30, Nicholson does everything but wink at the audience to indicate that, yeah, sure, he gets the joke, he knows he’s been typecast. But rather than coast through on his considerable charisma, he laces his zesty performance with meticulously apportioned measures of middle-age melancholy and rueful self-awareness. Better still, he curbs his enthusiasm for what might be called “eyebrow acting” – trust me, you know it when you see it – even as Harry appreciates the possibilities of his latest conquest, Marin (Amanda Peet), a comely auctioneer for Christie’s.
We meet Harry as he and Marin begin a romantic weekend at her mother’s Hamptons beach house. Harry’s upset when his idyll is interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Erica Barry (Keaton), Marin’s divorced mom, described as “the most successful woman playwright since Lillian Hellman.” But Erica proves to be a lifesaver – literally, thanks to her CPR prowess – when Harry is felled by chest pains before he can lure Marin between the sheets.
At the local hospital, Erica immediately captures the fancy of Julian Mercer (Keanu Reeves, fully recovered from his Matrix moroseness), a much younger doctor who admires her plays. It takes Harry considerably longer to warm toward the playwright while, back at the beach house, he convalesces under her reluctantly watchful eye. But, then again, it takes every bit as long for chronically uptight Erica to let down her guard and admit that, sometimes, opposites really do attract.
There’s something almost quaint, even comforting, about the old-fashioned conventions at play in Something’s Gotta Give. The movie abounds in topical references – everything from hip-hop to Web surfing – but it remains, at heart, the kind of slow-infatuation, delayed-gratification scenario that would have played equally well with moviegoers a generation or two ago. It speaks volumes about the frankly retrograde sensibility guiding the plot that Erica is a playwright, not a screenwriter. Keaton is terrific in the role, effortlessly exuding intelligence and mature sexiness. And while it might not be altogether intentional on her part, she occasionally suggests that Erica is a long-lost twin of Annie Hall, older and wiser but no less easily flustered.
Meyers brings admirable resourcefulness to contriving obstacles that delay the inevitable happily-ever-aftering. My only real complaint: I wish she would have had the nerve to end Something’s Gotta Give about five minutes before she does. But let’s face it: Such a move probably would have upset the very people – diehard romantics and nostalgic movie buffs – most likely to respond favorably to this light, bright bauble.
