Movie Review -- Starting Out in the Evening

In an age where reality TV and celebrity gossip count as “culture,” it’s hard to imagine a quiet, plodding movie like Starting out in the Evening ever reaching the mainstream. No doubt references to Norman Mailer and Saul Bellow will be lost on the MTV generation (they were writers or something, right?). But then again, Andrew Wagner’s second feature, unlike the current Hollywood fare, aims to capture the attention of a different audience – a diminishing generation of literature lovers and sweater-vest wearers who balk at the superficial “whatever sells” notion of pop culture.
The film, adapted from Brian Morton’s novel of the same name by Wagner and Fred Parnes, offers a detailed look into lives of three very different characters who inhabit a world where everything is measured against a ticking clock. Aging novelist Leonard Schiller (Frank Langella) is resigned to spending the rest of his days plucking away at a typewriter in an attempt to finish his final book – a task ten years in the making. But, his monotonous lifestyle is thrown off course by the introduction of Rachel Wolfe (Lauren Ambrose), an ambitious, go-getter grad student intent on writing her thesis on the fading author.
Initially against the idea (he has no time to dwell on the past, what with his unfinished novel and all), Leonard eventually gives into Rachel’s flattering persistence. Full of grand thoughts, Rachel declares she is going to do for Leonard what Malcolm Cowley did for Faulkner; she will reintroduce his novels to the world. Rachel’s self-assurance would border on naivety, but there is little connotation of innocence in her actions. She knows what she wants, and she goes after it with a blatant disregard for others.
Rachel is the by-product of old-time aesthetic appreciation and more recent “do whatever it takes” ideologies. She wants to champion Leonard’s work, but she also wants to be successful in a world that is no longer interested in the novels of a burnt-out writer with no mass appeal. These two conflicting desires combine to make an annoyingly impulsive, and somewhat hypocritical, character. She’s hard to like, but not entirely impossible to sympathize with.
Leonard, on the other hand, is a traditional, gentlemanly intellectual through and through. He breaks for teatime, refers to women as ladies, and frequently attends academic lectures and literary soirées. He’s unsure what to make of the hybrid he perceives in Rachel, and yet despite himself, finds he’s drawn to her fiery intensity.
As the film progresses, the two are pulled into an indefinable relationship of mutual admiration, possible attraction, and newly awakened desire. There are moments of tender, albeit odd, affection between Rachel and Leonard despite, or perhaps in spite, of the 40-year-plus age difference. It’s unclear what exactly Rachel is looking for when she playfully smears honey over Leonard’s face or when she invites him into her bed just to “be near him.” She seems to be confusing admiration for a kindred spirit with love or something equally sensual. The way she toys with flirtation can at times seems cruel, but perhaps it’s just her inexperience leaking through her glossy self-confidence.

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Rounding out the story is Leonard’s grown daughter Ariel (Lili Taylor), a dancer turned yoga instructor increasingly aware of her ticking biological clock. Pushing 40 and still husbandless, she frets over her diminishing chances of being able to have a child. To remedy this she has taken to “forgetting” to put in her diaphragm before rolling into bed with her boyfriend. Ariel’s desire for a baby parallels her relationship with her work-driven, inadvertently neglectful father. She attends lectures with him and encourages him to finish his book, even though she states at the beginning that she was never much into literature. She is a more supportive and attentive daughter than he is a father, willingly sacrificing her wants for his sake.
All the characters are tied together in their conscious need to connect with something larger than themselves. For Leonard, it’s his writing; for Rachel, it’s literature and success (and maybe something else she has yet to decide); and for Ariel, it’s the comfort of family and motherhood. Despite all their intellectual talk, reminiscent of dialogue you might possibly find in one of Leonard’s novels, these are real people, deeply complicated and flawed in the most human ways.
Superb, almost invisible, acting fleshes out the film’s three-dimensional characters. The subtle, quietly compelling performance of Frank Langella offers layers of depth to complement his stoic exterior. His sad eyes tell one story while his words tell another. His reserved presence commands every scene. This is a man from another time who does his best to remain composed and proper even as his world and body changes without his consent. Langella injects soul and something more into what could have easily been a clichéd character study, as in other aging-mentor movies that line DVD shelves.
Lauren Ambrose as Rachel also breaks type. She isn’t the sweet, unabashed girl out to learn life-changing lessons from her literary hero. Rather, an intelligent yet presumptuous young woman who believes she already knows everything and is just out to confirm it. What she wants to hear from Leonard is the process behind his writing, the man behind the words. She pressures him with haughty questions, like “Do you at least concede that your first two novels are autobiographical?” For claiming to be a fan, she certainly seems to miss the bigger picture of what writing is all about. What she fails to grasp is that Leonard no more understands his process then she does. He just follows his characters around and waits for them to do “something interesting.”
Ambrose’s Rachel is callow and unjustifiably assured in the most annoying way. It may just be the character, but even her mannerisms are condescending and elicit equal amounts of eye rolling and teeth grinding from the audience. You almost want to stand up and cheer when Leonard treats her to a decisive slap. Ambrose’s big fluttering eyes, continually cocked head, and pouting expression don’t help much either. I had a hard time buying into her in-times-of-great-uncertainty-I-found-solace-in-Literature (yes, with a capital L) speech. It remains a mystery how someone who seems so intelligent can be so utterly dumb.
Lili Taylor, as the quietly suffering daughter with a maternal instinct, is much better. She conveys the relationship with her father in heartbreaking detail without ever saying more than two words about it. Like her father, she is resigned to coming in second behind “his work,” and yet still loves him in the sweetest, most nurturing way.
Andrew Wagner’s direction is perhaps deliberately uneventful so focus can be given to the actors and story. Sometimes it feels as if the camera were just plopped down in the middle of a conversation without much thought to creative positioning. Wagner is fond of head-on medium shots, and while they do the job, they can get rather monotonous.
Minimal action coupled along with a slow pace makes this a movie not suited for everyone. Those expecting something to happen will walk away disappointed. Most of what goes on consists of internal changes in the characters, and these are implied rather than directly stated. (Perhaps its limited appeal explains why, despite moderate attention from the major critical – undoubtedly more literary-based – associations, Langella failed to score a single nomination from more commercial award shows.)
Wagner does capture the dying elegance of old school academia with his use of a muted color palette and low lighting. The dialogue is revealing and witty (maybe a little too consciously so), skirting on the brink of pretension without ever crossing into the full-blown arena of snobbery. The words, “it is in my estimation” are uttered without the slightest bit of sarcasm, but for Leonard’s character, this seems a good fit.
Starting Out in the Evening is a compelling, thoughtful movie with well-developed characters and fine acting. It’s a film about a dying generation left to wither in the shadow of the ever-expanding umbrella of popular culture. Sadly, it will probably fall victim to the same prejudice Leonard faces and will be forgotten or ignored by young people just out for the next big thing.