Film offers witty dialogue; story devoid of conclusion

Typically, quirky dramas about twenty-somethings getting in touch with their buddies and themselves hold little appeal for a fellow like me. Such affairs are almost always campy instead of clever and stylish rather than substantive, relying on the trends du jour to lasso the collective attention span of their target audience.

I mean, let's face it, monkey or no monkey, TV's Friends showcases more good hair than good lines and exposes more naked midriffs than naked truths. It's little more than mind candy for the hip set.

But now that I've likely alienated half my readership (I'll miss both you guys), let me be perfectly forthright by admitting that my disdain for Friends-like spectacles is born more of tragic, personal lament than hackneyed, pseudo-erudite criticism. You see, I don't have many friends myself--at least not enough to form an ensemble sitcom cast--so watching close-knit gaggles of attractive people share life lessons and cups of cappuccino onscreen stirs up more than a little resentfulness inside me. If you believe my claim of near-friendlessness to be hyperbole, just consider this all-too-typical scenario:

STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL POTENTIAL PAL: "So, what do you do?"

ME: "I write movie reviews."

STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL POTENTIAL PAL: "Oh, really? Did you see Pretty Woman? I just adored that movie--it's one of my all-time favorites. I wish they would make a sequel."

ME: "What are you, nuts? That film was a sentimental, formulaic piece of trash."

STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL POTENTIAL PAL: "Please go away."

You can see why mine is a lonely, bitter existence. But, nevertheless, I checked my psychological baggage at the theater door Wednesday and dutifully took in a matinee showing of Beautiful Girls, the latest big-screen tale about the young and the feckless.

And, surprisingly enough, I had a pretty good time.

Beautiful Girls, discreetly directed by Ted Demme and smartly written by Scott Rosenberg, is a cinematic blend of The Big Chill, Singles, and Nobody's Fool.

The film tells the story of Willy (Timothy Hutton), a piano man who leaves behind the dimly lit, smoke-filled lounges of New York City to attend a high school reunion in his deceptively sleepy New England hometown. Once there, he hooks up with old friends, makes a couple of new ones, and spends nearly every waking hour contemplating his seemingly unfulfilling relationship with a pretty New York attorney whom he has begun to regard as a picture of stability rather than passion.

Meanwhile, Willy's old cronies are mired in relationship problems of their own. Former stud Tommy (Matt Dillon) walks on the feelings of his thoughtful, anorexic girlfriend-present (Mira Sorvino) while trying unsuccessfully to let go of his high school sweetheart-past (Lauren Holly), who's now a wife and mother but still a vixen. And goofball Paul (Michael Rapapport) neglects his seven-year steady while raising the pubescent predilection for supermodel worship to an art form. When not screwing up with women, Tommy and Paul plow snow and drink beer with Willy and a few other pals at bar owned by Stinky (Pruitt Taylor Vince), another old classmate.

Stinky's sexy cousin Andera (Uma Thurman), on a visit from Chicago, is one of the new acquaintances Willy makes during his visit home. The other is Marty (Natalie Portman), a wise and witty girl who moved in next door to Willy's old house during his absence. Both of these young women--who are certainly the most beautiful girls, inside and out, of Beautiful Girls--stand out in the film's snow-blanketed setting like glowing cinders.

For the romantically unsure Willy, Thurman's Andera is a glimmering beacon that shows him how perfect familiar love can be, and Portman's Marty is a frosty looking glass that reminds him how titillating innocent love once was. Willy is taken with both, but can have neither. The sensual and sage Andera is happily in love with another, and Marty--well, she's only 13.

Despite their potentially unsettling age difference, the tender bond between Hutton and Portman is the jewel of Rosenberg's screenplay. The sensitive, Shakespeare-spouting Marty is ridiculously too sophisticated to be a 13-year-old, but Portman imbues her with such genuine magnetism that you can't help but excuse Rosenberg's overactive pen. While the slinking, smiling Thurman melts the screen, Portman, with her bright eyes and winter wind-scrubbed cheeks, crystallizes it. Audiences haven't seen the last of her.

Moviegoers haven't seen the last of Rosenberg, either. In fact, the first feature film he wrote, Things To Do In Denver When You're Dead, opens in Knoxville next Friday.

If Beautiful Girls is any indication, Rosenberg's debut writing effort is probably shakily structured and a little long-winded. In Girls, the former proves a more debilitating fault than the latter. The film's well-textured characters reel off scads of funny and intelligent dialogue. But some scenes--such as one in which the pudgy, pushy, preachy Rosie O'Donnel, in a type-cast role that's becoming tired in a hurry, gives the boys a comedic lecture on the meaningful assets of a good woman--seem contrived and out of place.

Most disappointing of all, the film lacks a third act. Rosenberg sort of writes himself into a corner, unable to squeeze a compelling finish out of all his smart dialogue and quirky characters. Willy and Company simply resolve their relationship quandaries in strikingly boring fashion, as Rosenberg turns off the faucet on the all the soul searching and philoshophizing and allows the story to drip lifelessly to a close.

For one glorious opening hour, however, Beautiful Girls paints a vibrant, inventive portrait of friendship and social bonding between charismatic Generation X'ers. The guys are amiable, the gals--particularly Thurman and Portman--are scintillating, and the conversation between them is, at times, enlightening.

The whole affair is almost enough to make a self-styled loner want to walk out of the movie house and make some friends.