This movie is strange. Just weird. It would seem as if it's trying to be a romantic comedy, and indeed that is what it was billed and sold as (And it's based on one of the best - the 1938 film The Shop Around the Corner, starring Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan. People, this is an absolute gem, and regardless of how you feel about You've Got Mail, you ABSOLUTELY must see it. See it! See it! See it! You won't be disappointed.)
But back to You've Got Mail. Now, I like Tom Hanks. I like Meg Ryan. I loved them together in Joe Versus the Volcano (haven't seen Sleepless in Seattle - and have no intention of ever doing so). But they completely fizzle here. It's not really their fault. The script is so hard-wired to prevent any audience sympathy or interaction. The premise would appear to be golden: two people fall in love with one another via the Internet, only to realize that in real life they can't stand each other. This is an intriguing set-up (and a savvy and intelligent update of Shop Around the Corner's pen-pal conceit); the scenes where we hear (through voiceover) Tom and Meg's communiques with each other are low-key and sweet. But. . . oh, there are so many "but"s - such as:
*Did the script really need to pair up the stars with respective live-ins (Greg Kinnear for her, Parker Posey for him)? These characters never get explored in the least, are blatant caricatures (he of N.Y. intelligentsia, she of the brash and crass world of publishing), and are dispensed of without any noticeable fanfare. What's the point? Surely, having the leads be separated by not knowing each others' identities should have been (and is) complication enough.
*Why is Hanks' character privy to the secret identity of his e-mail partner so long before Ryan's is? True, this development corresponds structurally to the one played out in Shop Around the Corner, but that's not really a fair comparison. There, the entire movie was more or less seen through the eyes of Jimmy Stewart's character, and our identification with him made us wonder how he would make use of his knowledge. Here, though, Hanks and Ryan are given equal weight and screen time; neither represents the definitive "perspective" through which the film is to be seen. As such, awarding his character knowledge which she does not possess strikes of a desire to play favorites - and wreaks havoc with the trajectory of the movie's second half. It suddenly ceases being a movie about equals and becomes more about the deliberate manipulations and evasions of Tom Hanks' character - making the whole thing seem insincere and smarmy, rather than fun or heart-warming.
*And speaking of smarmy, what's with the moral of this story? Is there one?! I mean sure, going in, we more or less figure that there will be a sappy but endearing message about love winning out in the end over personal differences. Which we're prepared for (and frankly, if you're not, you've stepped into not only the wrong movie but the wrong genre). Since, in the film, Hanks and Ryan are the heads of rival bookstores - he a large and impersonal chain, she a small, independently owned neighborhood store catering lovingly to children - we get to see their personal peccadillos played out in the world of business. This is a good idea, particularly as his chain is attempting to drive hers out of business. Problem is, no one really had the heart to make Tom Hanks the yuppie s.o.b. he really needed to be for this story to work (of course, the Hanks of the '80s was born to play just this role - but now that he's graduated to bland "nice guy" parts I suppose all nuance and complexity have gone out of his work). What the filmmakers do instead is truly laughable (and here comes a major SPOILER, so if you don't want to know how this film ends stop reading here) - they have Hanks' company run Ryan's out of business - and then have her fall in love with him anyway. HUH?! Could someone explain that to me? The two don't reach a détente, a middle ground, in their personal and business bickering. They don't join forces, or find some compromise way to co-exist. I was at least expecting some diatribe against big business in favor of small and independent shopowners who truly "care" about their product. Corny though it might have been, it at least would have been consistent with the genre it found itself in. Or the movie might have been truly brave and suggested that, under the circumstances, there was no way Ryan could ever be with Hanks, as much as she loves him in cyberspace, for their fundamental difference in temperament and philosophy would always keep them apart. Then, maybe, Tom would have to undergo some kind of transformation or catharsis or. . . . but, hey, since he's already such a nice guy in this movie, screw it, let's just have him win heartlessly in business, and get the girl anyway. Under all the gossamer and syrup of the ending, it's a pretty mean-spirited and cynical message this movie is pushing. Very distasteful, too. And not at all the experience I had in mind when laying down my eight bucks to see two of the most likable and charming leads working in movies today.
But Shop Around the Corner, that's a whole other story. ..
But back to You've Got Mail. Now, I like Tom Hanks. I like Meg Ryan. I loved them together in Joe Versus the Volcano (haven't seen Sleepless in Seattle - and have no intention of ever doing so). But they completely fizzle here. It's not really their fault. The script is so hard-wired to prevent any audience sympathy or interaction. The premise would appear to be golden: two people fall in love with one another via the Internet, only to realize that in real life they can't stand each other. This is an intriguing set-up (and a savvy and intelligent update of Shop Around the Corner's pen-pal conceit); the scenes where we hear (through voiceover) Tom and Meg's communiques with each other are low-key and sweet. But. . . oh, there are so many "but"s - such as:
*Did the script really need to pair up the stars with respective live-ins (Greg Kinnear for her, Parker Posey for him)? These characters never get explored in the least, are blatant caricatures (he of N.Y. intelligentsia, she of the brash and crass world of publishing), and are dispensed of without any noticeable fanfare. What's the point? Surely, having the leads be separated by not knowing each others' identities should have been (and is) complication enough.
*Why is Hanks' character privy to the secret identity of his e-mail partner so long before Ryan's is? True, this development corresponds structurally to the one played out in Shop Around the Corner, but that's not really a fair comparison. There, the entire movie was more or less seen through the eyes of Jimmy Stewart's character, and our identification with him made us wonder how he would make use of his knowledge. Here, though, Hanks and Ryan are given equal weight and screen time; neither represents the definitive "perspective" through which the film is to be seen. As such, awarding his character knowledge which she does not possess strikes of a desire to play favorites - and wreaks havoc with the trajectory of the movie's second half. It suddenly ceases being a movie about equals and becomes more about the deliberate manipulations and evasions of Tom Hanks' character - making the whole thing seem insincere and smarmy, rather than fun or heart-warming.
*And speaking of smarmy, what's with the moral of this story? Is there one?! I mean sure, going in, we more or less figure that there will be a sappy but endearing message about love winning out in the end over personal differences. Which we're prepared for (and frankly, if you're not, you've stepped into not only the wrong movie but the wrong genre). Since, in the film, Hanks and Ryan are the heads of rival bookstores - he a large and impersonal chain, she a small, independently owned neighborhood store catering lovingly to children - we get to see their personal peccadillos played out in the world of business. This is a good idea, particularly as his chain is attempting to drive hers out of business. Problem is, no one really had the heart to make Tom Hanks the yuppie s.o.b. he really needed to be for this story to work (of course, the Hanks of the '80s was born to play just this role - but now that he's graduated to bland "nice guy" parts I suppose all nuance and complexity have gone out of his work). What the filmmakers do instead is truly laughable (and here comes a major SPOILER, so if you don't want to know how this film ends stop reading here) - they have Hanks' company run Ryan's out of business - and then have her fall in love with him anyway. HUH?! Could someone explain that to me? The two don't reach a détente, a middle ground, in their personal and business bickering. They don't join forces, or find some compromise way to co-exist. I was at least expecting some diatribe against big business in favor of small and independent shopowners who truly "care" about their product. Corny though it might have been, it at least would have been consistent with the genre it found itself in. Or the movie might have been truly brave and suggested that, under the circumstances, there was no way Ryan could ever be with Hanks, as much as she loves him in cyberspace, for their fundamental difference in temperament and philosophy would always keep them apart. Then, maybe, Tom would have to undergo some kind of transformation or catharsis or. . . . but, hey, since he's already such a nice guy in this movie, screw it, let's just have him win heartlessly in business, and get the girl anyway. Under all the gossamer and syrup of the ending, it's a pretty mean-spirited and cynical message this movie is pushing. Very distasteful, too. And not at all the experience I had in mind when laying down my eight bucks to see two of the most likable and charming leads working in movies today.
But Shop Around the Corner, that's a whole other story. ..