Review of Heartburn (1986) by Burt M — 02 Jan 2009

Just think about it: a movie starring Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep at the height of their fame and youthful beauty. A script by funnywoman and well-regarded screenwriter Nora Ephron, drawing from the bitterness and humour associated with her own disastrous marriage. The film itself to be directed by the esteemed Mike Nichols. [b]Heartburn[/b] had pretty much everything going for it. Surely it should have secured its place in cinematic history as, at the very least, a minor classic. Unfortunately for all concerned, the film is a ramshackle reminder that not even all the perfect ingredients for movie alchemy will result in pure good.

Rachel (Streep) and Mark (Nicholson) meet cute and quickly fall in love - and before either of them is quite sure what is happening, they're married, dealing with an old house that's new to them and crumbling around their ears, having children. Everything seems perfect: to Rachel, at least, who has given up her old job as a food writer for a high-powered magazine and settled cheerfully down into a home life she clearly cherishes. Mark, however, ever the flighty man about town, starts to chafe at being domesticated... soon, and sadly, inevitably, Rachel realises that Mark couldn't change his stripes for her after all, and has been having an affair with someone in their social circle. Is that first spark of attraction - that love - enough to sustain their relationship and Rachel's determination to protect her kids?

There is nothing inherently wrong with [b]Heartburn[/b] beyond the fact that it pretty much works out to be an average film when it could have been a great one. The sense one gets from watching Rachel and Mark drift through the thinly-disguised events from Ephron's own life is that the film was cobbled together without a clear idea of whether it was going to be a quirky romantic comedy or a deeply-felt, anguished family drama. Not that you can't get away with a blend of both. But, in this instance, Ephron just... doesn't. The comedy, though welcome and amusing enough in small doses and individual scenes, is just a little [i]too[/i] over-the-top. When Rachel sinks into a deep depression over Mark's philandering ways, she starts to imagine talk show hosts on television speaking directly to her. It's all very [i]Ally McBeal[/i], before the quirky TV series was even a glimmer in creator David E Kelley's eye. But, unlike that show at its peak, Ephron's script can't quite blend this streak of silliness with heartfelt emotional truths. Nichols, meanwhile, seems to be somewhat at a loss as to how to approach the wackier moments in the script (including a very interesting disruption to Rachel's therapy session... with a cameo by a very young, very blonde Kevin Spacey).

The biggest thing in [b]Heartburn[/b]'s favour is that it's probably the kind of film that would benefit from repeat viewings. Once you get past the strange stiltedness of the film, as it shifts from tone to tone and never quite settles on a recognisable underlying theme, there is a great deal to enjoy. Some of the comic scenes are minor treasures: Rachel's anxieties about getting married are beautifully captured in a truly funny scene in which she is fretting and holding up the wedding. Mark's attempts to coax her back into public are what the entire film should have been: tender, sharp, funny. It's fun to watch also for the supporting players in the film, all of whom are now established industry names as excellent character actors. Stockard Channing, for example, pops up as Rachel's best friend Julie, a woman similarly trapped in a marriage that's no longer what she thought it was but she's still not sure she wants to get out of. Catherine O'Hara, meanwhile, turns in a delightful supporting turn as catty gossip queen Betty, sowing seeds of discord wherever and whenever she can.

The true reason to keep revisiting [b]Heartburn[/b], however, is in its lead performances. Nicholson does what he can with a truly underwritten, colourless part - which is one of the film's greatest problems. Bearing perhaps the bitter traces of Ephron's own real-life experiences, Mark never quite coalesces into a full-fledged character, remaining little more than a stereotype of an unfaithful husband with next to no redeeming qualities. It's only Nicholson, barrelling through his scenes with his own god-given charm, that keeps the initial relationship between Rachel and Mark from dissolving into a black hole. It helps, of course, that he also has great chemistry with Streep - as they sing drunkenly in their broken-down bathroom over slices of pizza, you can't help feeling that Rachel and Mark [i]could[/i] have made it after all... which helps a little when the film becomes something considerably more acrimonious and bitter thereafter.

Streep, meanwhile, is fantastic as Rachel. It becomes very clear very quickly - if you hadn't known that [b]Heartburn[/b] was basically an exercise in autobiography as therapy for Ephron - that Rachel is the main character and Mark merely a supporting player in the drama of Rachel's life. The joy and tragedy and heartbreak in this film are all Rachel's... and Streep conveys them all beautifully. There are a couple of points in the film when Rachel breaks down, her pain and grief etched into her features and the lines of her shoulders, and Streep is, of course, masterful at keeping these dramatic moments real and genuinely affecting. She's particularly careful, too, not to create a one-dimensional, saintly character. In fact, early on in the film, there are reasons to occasionally dislike or feel put off by Rachel's neglect of Mark once their first child is born, so one can understand when Mark starts to fret under the yoke of marriage and commitment. And if Streep's comedy is a little less subtle than one would like - she isn't helped by a wildly seesawing script - it'd probably be worth it to (re)watch the film just to see her interact with her little daughter Mamie Gummer, in the latter's first film role as Rachel's eldest, Annie. The moments between the two are priceless: Gummer is adorable, and shares such a genuine, shorthand kind of chemistry with Streep that makes the onscreen mother-daughter relationship immeasurably more credible.

[b]Heartburn[/b] would probably have been a perfectly adequate, charming vehicle on the resumes of anyone who doesn't boast the pedigree that Streep, Nicholson, Nichols and even Ephron do. Considering who [i]did[/i] sign on the dotted line to appear in the film, though, the film feels like something of a misfire. Fortunately, then, that Streep and Nicholson turn in great work, sharing an easy, strong chemistry that bodes well for their subsequent collaboration in 1989's [i]Ironweed[/i]... and - one can always hope - another film sometime in the future?