EPISODE 2 REVIEW: Elegy

Elegy - 2008

Director: Isabel Coixet

Starring: Ben Kingsley, Penelope Cruz

I had to look up the term “elegy” in the midst of watching this movie. It’s not one of those terms you feel the need to readily know the definition to like “consent.” It means “a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead” which pretty much shattered my expectations for everyone to break out into song at the end. In a sense, I felt like I spoiled something, but as the movie progressed, my thoughts stopped circling around how it was going to end and instead focused on when it was going to end.

Elegy lectures us on the story of David Kepesh (Ben Kingsley), a horny old professor who becomes somewhat obsessed with his latest student catch to the point where he actually starts thinking about (gasp) having a romantic relationship with her. She’s totally into that and it’s Penelope Cruz so this really should have been like a 5 minute movie because…fucking duh. There isn’t a plot here. Except he’s in his 50s and has had enough heartache and heartbreak from pretty much any level of commitment so he’s struggling with this one (or he, quite literally, never got out of college and like just about every college asshole is just naturally afraid of commitment but has no problems with the sex).

Ben Kingsley and Penelope Cruz
as the most "sure, whatever...
I'll go with that" couple ever.

On one end, David kind of has it made. In addition to the dreary, boring, but apparently mentally captivating nod and smile drool factory that is Penelope Cruz (I don’t care about her character name), he also has Carolyn (Patricia Clarkson) who is a traveling professional that wants nothing but sex and to be on her way, occasionally having somewhat real conversations about the joys of NSA. No commitment, no real drama, just convenient companionship. The rest of the “somewhat real conversations” come in the form of George (Dennis Hopper), a typical best friend character serving no purpose but to relay the awkwardness of the situation and allow the audience to get inside our main character’s head a little bit without a ridiculous voice over. They have coffee and play racquetball and George does his little “here’s why I think you’re dumb” speech and then cut to David doing the exact opposite of any advice brought up. David isn’t good at this companionship thing; he’s just constantly rolling naturals and it’s been a while since the dice landed on something that has made him have to think about what he’s doing.

This is where my biggest problem lies and I can’t help but feel that this is where the whole thing was going. As the story progresses, David starts to lose his grip on these easy situations because he suddenly has to start committing to them and, of course, his fear of the past (a past that is not that terrible really) makes him handle things poorly. Though as these conveniences fall apart and disappear, it never feels like David’s reached some point of despair, it more feels like the snooty rich kid who realizes that his glass of water is .2 degrees below room temperature (of which he did NOT ask for that, you incompetent swine). Great job, awesome best friend, two amazing women that either want you for sex or want you for you and your world is collapsing because suddenly some of these things have to mean something to you. Boo fuckin’ hoo.

Elegy: Typically a lament for the dead.
In this case, the death of Cruz's boobs.
Why? An excuse to see them again I
guess. Movie should have ended a
half hour ago...

The presentation of this whole collapse is done in a way that is obnoxiously similar to two other movies that meant well, but I felt were absolutely terrible: The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and The Fountain. Beautifully acted, beautifully directed, nervously executed to the point of ridiculous. Elegy’s message is very simple: “don’t take things for granted.” All three of these movies take a very adult approach to a lesson most of us learn when we’re children, but they rub that message so much in your face it stops feeling artistic and more like the movie doesn’t believe it’s made its point adequately yet.

It isn’t a story more than it is a “life-lesson” themed parade, where each scene is another float passing down the street begging for acknowledgement of the hard work put into it before the next one follows in behind it with the same words but different colored flowers. Just get to the shitty marching band at the end so we can say “yeah, we got through it all! We can say we’re supporters now.”

Now, I’ve got a pancake breakfast to finish and the dreamcatcher saleslady is looking at me weird so I need to move along, but not before making a stop at the Kirby tent and picking up 5 dustbusters (and like…80 pamphlets) for this mess.

If you’re curious, Secret Life would have gotten a 6 and The Fountain would have gotten a 2. Seriously. Fuck The Fountain.