FILM REVIEW: UNION SQUARE

Lucy (Mira Sorvino) in Union Square.

Unit-wit

By Don Simpson

Writer-director Nancy Savoca's Union Square is a strange, little film that seems unsure if it wants to achieve subtle neo-realism via a severely concentrated character study or appeal to the cheap seats as an over-the-top Odd Couple-like comedy.

The film follows a cartoonishly brash and outlandish babe from the Bronx, Lucy (Mira Sorvino), as she spirals uncontrollably towards a nervous breakdown. With what seems like a well-versed knack for dropping in on people, Lucy arrives at Union Square station to surprise a lover -- after some bargain shopping at Filene's Basement first, of course. When Lucy finally gets the not-so-subtle hint that her lover wants absolutely nothing to do with her, she heads straight to her estranged sister Jenny's (Tammy Blanchard) apartment.

Jenny is understandably shocked to see Lucy; and assuming that Lucy intends for this to be an extended stay, Jenny comes off as cold and unwelcoming. We then realize that maybe it is just in Jenny's natural personality to be cold and unwelcoming; just take a look around at her immaculately sterile apartment. You see, Jenny is one of those snobbishly organic, vegetarian types who suffers from the tunnel vision of her holier-than-thou lifestyle. Worst of all, Jenny has disowned her crazy family from the Bronx and developed a fictional past in which she grew up in a idyllic New England household, which is certainly more conducive to her bland granola-light lifestyle. Jenny shares the sterile bubble of her existence with her long-term fiancé, Bill (Mike Doyle), who is understandably confused by Lucy's sudden appearance...and, more than likely, Lucy's strong accent as well.

Savoca ensures that the audience develops no empathy or affection for either of the central protagonists, thus making Union Square a somewhat tortuous experience. Personalities are cranked up way past 11 in what turns out to be an acting showcase designed specifically to highlight Sorvino's dramatic range. Unfortunately, Union Square comes off as being a bit too over-directed, specifically because of some surprising plot twists that come inexplicably from nowhere. This is a story that would have benefited greatly from significantly less amplification of emotions.

LAFF 2012: RED FLAG

Alex (Alex Karpovsky) in Red Flag.

Stop in the name of ___

By Don Simpson

In Red Flag, writer-director Alex Karpovsky plays a somewhat fictionalized version of himself. His character, Alex, embarks upon a tour of the southern United States with his cinema verite mockumentary, Woodpecker. The trip immediately follows an emotionally tenuous break-up with his longterm girlfriend, Rachel (Caroline White). While I have no knowledge of Karpovsky's real romantic history, I do believe that Red Flag was mostly shot during an actual theatrical tour of Woodpecker. Taking his cue from the neo-realists, Karpovsky intersperses his fictional characters within real settings and among real people. Then again, this might be another elaborately staged ruse along the lines of Woodpecker – so, maybe it is all just fiction.

Karpovsky wrestles with concept of truth on the personal level as well. Alex has a tendency to lie and exaggerate; we can only assume that this -- along with his incredibly self-involved, head-up-his-ass attitude -- is why he has such a difficult time convincing any of his friends to join him on tour. In addition to his fear of marriage, we can only assume that Alex's ex-girlfriend has grown tired of the perpetual charade, never knowing when to believe Alex and not knowing how to deal with his overinflated ego.

Red Flagevolves into a road movie with two -- then three, then four -- lost souls traveling in the same car together. Rachel, Henry (Onur Tukel) and River (Jennifer Prediger) propel Alex along the course of his narrative arc, but they each have arcs of their own with which they must contend. Their goals are to determine what relationships and love mean to them while doing their best to avoid a life riddled with loneliness.