(I went to Italy with a snippy gay guy and all I got was this lousy villa!)
CAST: Diane Lane, Sandra Oh, Lindsay Duncan, Raoul Bova, and a bunch of Italian actors whose names I can't spell.
DIRECTOR: Audrey Wells
WARNING: SPOILERS and illogical decisions up ahead....
There's a moment in the delightful, uplifting, and completely ludicrous chick-flick UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN where the movie finally just yells "FUCK IT!!!" and takes a giant swan dive off the "Diving Board of Reality" and into the "Olympic Pool of Things that Would Never Happen in Real life." For the first 20 minutes, the movie has been edging closer and closer to the edge of the "Diving Board," with such incredible elements as a literary novelist that looks like Diane Lane, a lesbian couple (Sandra Oh and Kate Walsh) who look as believable a Sapphic couple as Anne Hathaway and Winona Ryder, and a scene wherein Diane Lane's character Frances Mayes leaves her entire house to her cheating husband without so much as smashing a window or taking the silverware. Most wronged women I know would not only strip the place of everything not bolted down, but also leave behind a nest of Black Mambas to bite the prick's prick in half.
Anyway, all these things are still downright believable in comparison to what occurs at the 20 minute mark. You see, in an attempt to recover from her broken heart, Frances goes to Italy on a gay tour of Tuscany, courtesy of Anne and Winona, er, Sandra and Kate. (Thanks for nothing, bitches). During one stop at the lovely village of Cortona, the lonely Frances tries to befriend one of her gay tour-mates by offering to write a postcard for his mother with his signature below. After reading Frances' little missive wherein she opines eloquently about "bells going ding-dang-dong" and "grapes bursting in my mouth," the gay dude flips out and says his mother will never believe he wrote it. Oh, I don't know about that, buddy: dongs bursting in your mouth? Sounds pretty gay to me.
But it isn't the dude's offended reaction that sends the movie over the edge of the "Diving Board of Reality." No. It's what Frances does as a direct result of this diss. You see, before the bitchy Queen mocked Frances' talent for gay erotica, she noticed an ad posted in the town square for a run-down Villa called "Bramasole" which means "CATNIP FOR LONELY DIVORCEES." Kidding. It means "To Yearn For The Sun." I wonder if the next villa over from Bramasole is named after the Italian phrase for "To End up with a Really bad Sunburn"? But I digress.... Ding-dang-dong: Frances sees the actual Bramasole right outside her tous bus window, promptly tells her not-quite-friends to go fuck themselves, and hops off with her luggage to approach the edge of the Diving Board of Reality.
SPLASH!!!!
At this point, it becomes absolutely vital and necessary for one to either: 1) abandon all logic and enjoy the movie, or (2) throw the DVD out the window and read the newspaper. I didn't have any newspapers around, so I said "FUCK IT!!!" and took my own swan dive.
If you've seen the trailers for UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN, you know that Frances buys Bramasole and sets about trying to remodel it with the help of a crew of Polish laborers (yes, Polish). Frances ends up being a den mother and cook for the sweaty and starving men. This is shown in a montage sequence wherein a whole array of food is paraded onto the makeshift (very makeshift) dinner table, with everyone laughing and guffawing and chowing down like tomorrow was the first day of a ban on all things edible. I kept waiting for Frances to introduce them to the concept of a "boxed lunch" and then throw them out to get their work done. Finally, Frances does get her fill of the, um, sweaty Poles (not in a good way) and hightails it to Rome. Here, she is tailed by a bunch of applauding Italian guys (what. the. hell.) and is forced to kiss another by-standing Italian man just to get rid of her entourage. Nice move, lady. Real classy. Way to think on your feet.
Fortunately, the Italian man doesn't turn out to be a degenerate who takes Frances' kiss as an invitation for some quick stand-up sex in an alley. He's actually quite sweet and handsome and is named Marcello. Frances, being a sucker for guys named Marcello apparently, decides to go with him to Positano, a coastal resort town three hours south of Rome. It's there that she discovers that he still lives in a room above his family's antique shop.
Yes, Marcello still lives at home, people. Now, in the U.S., this would be the kiss of death for a man's dating life. But being an Italian in Italy, Marcello is able to make this liability somehow charming and quirky. And being gullible, Frances eats it up like so much gelato melting off his nipple. Later on back at Bramasole, Frances does a victory dance meant to signify that she knows she's still one hot babe. Yes, Frances, but the guy that fucked you still. lives. at. HOME! That kind of dampens the bragging rights a bit, yes?
Well, as with all things that start out great, the Marcello-Frances romance hits the skids. Mainly because Frances's pal Patty (Sandra Oh) arrives unexpectedly in Italy to have her baby. By the way, Patty's lesbian partner has dumped her for Winona Ryder, pretty much proving the you don't have to have a penis to be a dickhead. Anyway, Patty's presence has a cock-blocking effect on Frances' love life, finally forcing Frances to take the bull by the horns and go down to Positano to meet up with Marcello herself.
If you're guessing she discovers that he's invited some other hussy to his hovel above his family's antique shop, you've known a few douchebags of your own in your time. Naturally, Frances reacts badly to this. She rushes home to Bramasole - only to find her young neighbor Ciara bawling her eyes out. See, Ciara loves Pawel, one of the Polish laborers - but Ciara's parents disapprove of the relationship. Because he's Polish and not Italian, Pawel whines. Because you're a laborer and not a doctor, I counter. And you smell.
But what do I know? Frances helps the young couple, and prevails over the reluctant parents by preaching about "a love that lasts forever." Ciara's dad all but explodes with laughter at this declaration. Hilarious coming from a chick who got dumped on both sides of the Atlantic, right? Anyhow, Frances gets unexpected support from Ciara's 700-year old grandma, who blabbers in Italian about her "Grande Amore." (Does that come with soy milk, granny?) Considering this crone was conducting an internet affair with a Peruvian at least 1/50th her age, I would take her word with not so much a grain of salt, but a boulder of it.
But, as I said, what do I know? Ciara and Pawel eventually get married, with Frances tearing up in the audience. Probably thinking she wouldn't have fought for the two brats to marry if she would've known she'd be paying for half the wedding. At the reception, Frances finally meets the man of her dreams when she takes a nap in the garden. When she opens her eyes, he is pretending to take a "lady bug" off her arm. In the States, a woman waking up to find a strange man bending over her, with a hand on her arm, would get a polite dousing of Mace and a generous round-kick to the testicles. In Italy, it means true love, apparently.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Call me a traitor, but I actually loved this movie. Diane Lane sold the character and brought you along for the ride, even if at some points you're thinking, "Sure. Whatever." In the end, the film wins you over because, unlike a gazillion other chick-flicks, UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN is not about Frances meeting Mr. Right, but making things right within herself. Only when she's together and healed does she find Mr. Lady Bug. It also emphasizes the importance of surrounding yourself with family - or friends that are family, instead of focusing on "The One." That's pretty novel for romantic comedies. Which usually treat an engagement ring or wedding as a woman's ultimate prize. I'm looking at you LEAP YEAR and BRIDE WARS. Barf.
