There’s something to the lightness of Sofia Coppola’s On the Rocks that is very endearing. Not that there’s a deficit of effort put into it, but it feels very much like Coppola relaxing, telling a sweet and simple story after a string of more ambitious ones. It’s also her big reunion with Bill Murray seventeen years after Lost in Translation (yes, she did direct the Netflix special A Very Murray Christmas, but that’s something else entirely), and so it has that ambience of comforting familiarity. It’s a comfortable movie, funny and likeable, and with just a few of the sparks of profundity that made Lost in Translation so great.
There’s a palpable filmmaking maturity that comes across too as Coppola expertly and delicately tells this story of the relationship between a father and daughter that is still intact but has clearly drifted from what it was due to his eccentric, impulsive behaviour and some repressed tension never healthily addressed. In spite of his most egregious and invasive choices, Coppola really seems to understand Murray’s Felix as much as her far more sympathetic protagonist Laura, played by an extremely tolerant Rashida Jones.
They spend most of the film “bonding” over a suspicion that Laura’s busy tech start-up husband Dean (Marlon Wayans) is having an affair, going to some extreme lengths to try and catch him in the act. Though Felix is the one really leading his daughter on, provoking her suspicion and inquisitiveness through his contextual speculations and assertions of inherent masculine behaviour. Often he references details of supposed evolutionary male characteristics and psychology as either a support for his argument or just a point of interest that no one finds interesting but himself –as is so common with out-of-touch dads. He also clearly uses this perceived self-awareness of male inadequacy as a shield for his own character flaws and a subtle excuse for his past transgressions (he’d had an affair himself during Laura’s childhood). Laura sees through it of course, but doesn’t comment on it, in one of several aspects to their relationship that feels very genuine. You get the sense this has been their dynamic for years and it does little good to bring stuff like that up, especially in what seems like an effort to reconnect and despite how much Laura may want to -still parsing the effect it had on her.
At the same time though, you see in Felix’s obtrusiveness a pitiable need for closeness outside of his occasional flings and his chauffeur. The wealthy New York art dealer has plenty of power and influence, but he’s a palpably lonely old man. And it underscores both the more outrageous things he pressures Laura into, such as a high speed chase through the city and a last minute international escapade, as well as the heart-to-heart conversations about love and relationships that make clear Laura’s malaise, completely separate from the idea of her husband cheating. And you want Felix’s postulations to be proven incorrect. Because when you do see him with Laura and their kids, Dean certainly seems to be a sweet and compassionate husband and father, with his workaholic nature being his only real fault. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Marlon Wayans be charming like this before.
I think there’s something incredibly relatable though in what Laura is going through, the boredom and seemingly absent passion from her marriage, that makes her investigations with her father something she honestly needs on some level. Perhaps it’s why she’s drawn into his conclusions so readily and so often gives him the benefit of the doubt. There’s an affection and understanding between them that they only share with each other and in spite of their differences -and that shines through in Murray and Jones’ chemistry. The comedic beats between them are sharp and natural and grounded, even when aspects of their situation take on a farcical bent.
The film moves at a brisk pace at only ninety-six minutes, maintaining its simple beauty through Coppola’s wistful script and measured direction, and the sweet atmospheric cinematography of Philippe Le Sourd. But it does leave something to be desired in its resolution, which can’t help feel incomplete as pertaining to Felix’s character arc. Sure, he’s confronted by the fact that his behaviour and actions can be destructive and toxic, but there’s no real reckoning with this. And it doesn’t seem to have any effect on Laura’s relationship to him -it’s almost as though a key scene is missing between the climax and the end. The film would rather re-centre the relationship between Laura and Dean, which bookends the piece, but the work doesn’t seem adequately put in for it to be the focal point.
But then, screen-time isn’t the only thing that matters. Perhaps the film is a little bit more about Laura than might initially appear. And I can trust enough Coppola’s choices. On the Rocks is a movie that, for its’ larger schemes and moments, is nicely mellow -especially coming off of the searing intensity of Coppola’s last film, The Beguiled. It’s a very welcome, pleasant mellowness that can only come from a filmmaker who has amassed a wealth of experience in their craft, expressing sincere ideas and feelings with such casual confidence. Maybe the general classiness and the title invite the analogy, but it’s like a good liquor on the rocks. Nothing fancy, but sophisticated, satisfying, and undiluted -yet with some charming bursts of flavour now and again.
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