Metro Pulse/State and Main

Movie Guru Rating:
Enlightening (4 out of 5)

Comment
on this review

Two worlds collide at the crossroads of State and Main

by Heather Joyner

State and Main, a new ensemble comedy about a movie crew invading an idyllic Vermont town, isn't your ordinary David Mamet film. Not that any of the gifted playwright/ director's efforts could be called ordinary—think House of Games or The Spanish Prisoner. However, State and Main is a significant departure from Mamet's usual subject matter and gritty style. Furthermore, heavy promotion by Fine Line Features has seemingly placed the film amidst mainstream fare (with a television ad featuring this timely exchange: He: "But it's absurd." She: "No more absurd than the Electoral College, and yet we all vote.").

The complexity of interaction between a range of intriguing characters echoes Robert Altman's The Player, but State and Main has more heart. After being run out of New Hampshire due to the less-than-legal sexual proclivities of leading man Bob Barrenger (Alec Baldwin), the cast and crew of a film called The Old Mill end up in Waterford, Vermont. Director Walt Price (William H. Macy), with a name evoking both Disney and money, goes ballistic when he learns that the town's touted mill was torched 40 years earlier "in a spate of suspicious fires that led to the formation of the Waterford Huskies." Out of cash after switching locales, Walt must change the script and juggle the needs of everyone involved, including flaky female lead Claire Wellesley (Sarah Jessica Parker), a potty-mouthed producer (David Paymer), and numerous Waterford citizens (such as Rebecca Pidgeon's clever bookstore proprietor Ann Black, teenage siren Carla, and Mayor George Bailey—I kid you not—played by Charles Durning).

Pidgeon (aka Mrs. Mamet), Macy, and Ricky Jay (reminiscent of a sullen, squinting Divine) are as vital as they always are to Mamet projects, and ironic wit abounds. We have the trademark rapid-fire lines, but gone is the repetitive and somewhat stilted delivery of "Mametian" dialogue. Fans might miss a convoluted plot populated by con men and other criminals. Others might find Mamet's take on a self-important movie industry less caustic than it should be (being the work of a man who once began an essay with what he's called the truest joke about Hollywood: a writer, producer, and director stranded in the desert attempt to share a long-buried can of tomato juice discovered by the writer; the director gets it open, then the producer takes it, saying, "I'm going to divide the juice in equal parts, but first I'm going to piss in it."). I, myself, am impressed by the extent to which Mamet has lightened up without losing his punch. To simply bash Hollywood or a bunch of semi-rural Yankees (or both) would have been easy. To his credit, Mamet rarely does what we expect.

Enter Philip Seymour Hoffman as first-time screenplay writer Joe White, flustered by the disappearance of his manual typewriter, not to mention the loss of his original play's title and symbolism. The emotional center of State and Main, a bashful White attempts to quit more than once but falls in love with Black and never quite leaves (yep, opposites attract). Pidgeon's Ann, the sort of matter-of-fact girl-next-door who's gone off to Radcliffe but dutifully returns to her roots, provides our first glimpse of the townies' savvy underbelly. In fact, despite the "Go you Huskies" phrase peppering their speech, the locals come up with some memorable lines. A pair of older Coffee Corner regulars, who trade their morning paper for Variety as the story unfolds, say things like, "It takes all kinds"—Coot #1. Coot #2—"I always wondered what it took." One of them remarks that "the only second chance we get is the chance to make the same mistake twice," a line that's ultimately incorporated into White's script. Like the Cicely (Alaska) residents in TV's Northern Exposure, these folks don't miss a beat.

Add to the mix a lively pace, artful editing, and amusing twists—like the producer's push to cash in on dot-com product placement despite The Old Mill's 19th Century setting—and we're in for a treat. The movie-within-a-movie concept may be old hat, but Mamet wears it well.

Needless to say, the cast is superb. Characters that might otherwise be caricatures are instead believably human and therefore earn our sympathy. Indie film goldenboy Hoffman (recently appearing in Happiness and Magnolia) actually manages to seem sexy as well as frumpy and honorable. Macy's Director Walt is conniving without being overly annoying. As the mayor's wife, Patti LuPone puts Martha Stewart to shame as she rips apart her home in a matter of days to impress the glitterati. Parker's pseudo-spiritual leading lady, hesitant to expose her breasts without further monetary reward, is despicably cute and balances Pidgeon's wholesomeness. As the young waitress Carla, Julia Stiles rivals Baldwin's quirky sex appeal. And Paymer is downright brilliant. When Hoffman as White witnesses a potentially incriminating car wreck at the intersection of State and Main Streets (involving Carla and Bob), we understand his character's moral dilemma.

The State and Main soundtrack is a bit nerve-wracking at times, but hell, we can't have it all. What we're left with is a cynical but affectionate 106-minute joyride through one production's impact on numerous lives. Thanks to Mamet's restraint and sheer talent, it's an entertaining trip.