Review of Waitress (2007) by Markb. — 14 Aug 2007

Too bad this piquant but charming little small-town character study, despite several promising weeks in the Top Ten, ultimately didn't have the staying power that would've made it this year's equivalent to 2002's My Big Fat Greek Wedding (which it's superior to) or last year's Little Miss Sunshine (which it's FAR superior to).

Keri Russell (of TV's Felicity) is luminous as the title character Jenna, who sublimates her disappointment with her less-than-totally-fulfilling career and genuinely miserable home life by concocting highly original, offbeat pie recipes.

(Some of us cook. Some of us post online movie reviews. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.) Life takes an unexpected turn when Jenna discovers she's pregnant, a development that threatens to leave her permanently tied to her creepy, abusive husband Earl (Jeremy Sisto), but also opens up new possibilities (and moral dilemmas, which the movie admirably doesn't shy away from) in the form of a romance with her Dr.

McDreamy-like gynecologist (Nathan Fillion, of the cult TV show Firefly and subsequent movie Serenity). With our country perhaps more polarized in the last few years than it's been at any time in its history since, oh, maybe the Civil War, Waitress is exactly the kind of purple-state movie we all desperately need; it's clearly feminist in its beliefs that women are rightfully entitled to the full spectrum of opportunities that come so easily to men, but one must also note that even though Jenna clearly doesn't want to have the baby (and Earl is such a loose cannon that it's potentially dangerous for her to have it), she--like Katharine Heigl's Alison in Knocked Up--doesn't seriously consider an abortion.

Triple-threat talent Adrienne Shelly, who wrote and directed as well as contributing a thoroughly endearing supporting turn as coworker Dawn, occasionally veers too sharply into sitcom territory (the third waitress is a tad too similar to Flo on TV's Alice for total comfort) but more than compensates with dozens of perfect but unobtrusive, almost subliminal little directorial touches.

Notice, for example, what happens visually to Jenna's surroundings once the baby is born, and observe how the font Shelly chooses in the opening credits makes a significant, poignant reappearance in the final scene.

The writing is often wonderfully multilayered and subtle, too, especially in the handling of Earl: he's certainly scary and dangerous, and Jenna has every reason and right to try to escape him, but Shelly, rather than taking the easy way out and making him one-dimensionally monstrous, paints him as deeply insecure and at times even childlike.

..which of course doesn't justify his behavior but at least makes it seem logical (at least from HIS point of view). Remember that Jenna does admit that she married him BEFORE he became this way, which indicates that there must have been a time in which she at least thought she loved him.

Parallels with Shelly's own tragic offscreen fate are best left mostly undiscussed because there's no profit or point in giving her murderer any more publicity than he deserves, but I will briefly bring up two points: the violence with which Shelly met her end stands in heartbreaking contrast with the gentleness of her final film, and if my memory serves me correctly, Shelly could, sadly, become the first posthumous Best Original Screenplay Oscar nominee on record in a few months.

And if the Academy Award folks want to give Andy Griffith the same Lifetime Achievement--er, Best Supporting Actor award they gave Alan Arkin last year, for Griffith's hugely enjoyable portrayal of Old Joe, the curmudgeon with a heart of.

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