Death To Remakes!

One year ago tomorrow, a film came out into wide release in the United States that, even then, I cringed at. The film was No Reservations, starring Aaron Eckhart (late of The Dark Knight where he plays the idealistic Harvey Dent who succumbs to his evil alter-ego, Two-Face) and Catherine Zeta-Jones, who hasn't needed much of an introduction since she burst onto the pop culture scene in 1998's The Mask of Zorro.

The reason I cringed then was because I knew, as few of my contemporaries did, that this film was based on a German film from 2002 called Bella Martha, better known to English-speaking audiences as Mostly Martha. During the summer of 2004 I went on a foreign film frenzy; I devoured almost three per week, and that few only because Netflix doesn't offer same-day delivery. A friend of mine got me started on this frenzy by lending me Babette's Feast and Mostly Martha. These films remain two of the finest films I've seen in the last ten years, and Mostly Martha in particular for its themes of grief, loss, and hope, all expressed and portrayed with such poetry and grace that I have rarely seen anything to rival it.

You might think, then, that the release of No Reservations would have excited me beyond belief. Many of my friends, when I told them about how wonderful Mostly Martha was, took it for granted that I would want to see this American remake. But experience has taught me that Hollywood remakes are more than often guaranteed to disappoint. And so it was with No Reservations. I finally buckled down and watched it today in honor of the (nearly) first anniversary of its release. Zeta-Jones and Eckhart demonstrate a great friendship on screen, but their sentiment fails to strike any deeper than that. At their first (and even second and third) kiss, I almost expect one of them to say, "So much for that," and get back to the business of the movie. They are too casual to be awkward, too warm to be aloof.

The film also stars Abigail Breslin, who tied with Tatum O'Neill for the youngest actress ever nominated for an Oscar in a competitive category (O'Neill won at age 10, while Breslin lost to Tilda Swinton in the Supporting Actress category; Shirley Temple won an honorary Oscar at age 6). While Breslin delivers (seemingly) real tears as a young girl orphaned when her mother dies in a car accident, she doesn't breathe any life into her lines, which weren't that stellar to begin with.

The film cannot decide whether to be about food, or family, or death, or female bonding (it tries for the latter with the compulsory pillow fight, complete with feathers flying all over the place). This adaptation of Sandra Nettelbeck's poignant Mostly Martha turned enchanting and genuine characters into caricatures of themselves, and the cast doesn't help sway the transformation at all.

Only in a few moments does this film tap into the original allure of Mostly Martha; but by the time those moments come along, you're so dejected and disappointed that you give no more thought to them than to a dead raccoon on the side of the highway.

People of the world, I implore you: don't tolerate lousy remakes and sloppy seconds. Hark ye the old adage: the original is the best. It's true about James Bond, Law & Order, and it's true about Mostly Martha. Do yourself a favor and give the original a shot.