On Screen

Watching Rachel Getting Married is a lot like attending a
wedding. There are plenty of really sweet and heartfelt moments, but
there are also a few uncomfortable and just plain dull stretches
wherein you just have to sit there and let your own barely faked
attentiveness sort of wash over you.

Three really fine performances anchor the film. Anne Hathaway’s Kym
is the kind of part most young actresses would kill to get; she’s on
leave from rehab, racked with guilt, but also completely unwilling to
allow the spotlight to shine on her sister Rachel. Hathaway should be
commended for not drooling all over the part in a Method-inspired
frenzy. Her performance meshes easily with Debra Winger’s unrepentantly
distant mother; the two seem seriously confused—and
injured—by their own awful actions even as they commit them. But
it’s Rosemarie DeWitt’s Rachel who holds everything together; she’s a
normal woman trying to enjoy her wedding day, even as two self-involved
drama queens tear it apart.

Jonathan Demme, returning to feature filmmaking after a stint in
documentaries, is apparently trying to evoke amateur wedding
cinematography with Married. The camera bucks and wheels in
circles; weak-stomached film-
goers would be advised to take a
double dose of Dramamine. The documentary-style approach is interesting
in that it allows Demme to get all up in the actors’ faces and catch
subtle nuances, but it’s occasionally frustrating. One dinner scene in
particular could be a Cloverfield outtake, it’s so jumpy and
camera-eccentric. For the most part, the actors underplay their parts,
but as with most big-name pedigree films released in the fall,
Married has its serious Oscar-bait scenes. Without these screams
and slaps, the film would be a stronger one, but then, what’s a wedding
without a little melodrama?