Road Not Taken
FILM: Me Myself I
DIRECTOR: Pip Karmel
STARRING: Rachel Griffiths, David Roberts
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MR. RIGHT? PAMELA (RACHEL GRIFFITHS) PONDERS LIFE MARRIED TO SWEETHEART ROBERT (DAVID ROBERTS) IN ME MYSELF I.
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In Peter Howitt's Sliding Doors, designer Gwyneth Paltrow misses
her London subway train, conks herself on the head and falls into an
alternative universe where two separate versions of her life play out to two
entirely different ends. Had she caught the tube, she'd have discovered her
boyfriend in flagrante delicto with another woman and gotten on with the
business of kicking the heel out of her considerable affections. But by missing
the train, she has to live with the rat a while longer before kicking the heel
out of her considerable affections. So now we have writer/director Pip Karmel's
Me Myself I, where London journalist Pamela Drury (Rachel
Griffiths) steps into traffic, gets conked on the head and falls into an
alternative universe where two separate versions of her life play out to two
entirely different ends. Imitation, I suppose, remains the greatest
flattery.
Ah, but there are differences. Pamela is a journalist, after all,
not a designer. And she's a brunette, not a blonde. And when we meet her, she's
not living with a heel; she's merely wondering if she'd be happier living with
a heel rather than relying on the personal ads for her inevitably dreadful
dates with dorks. Maybe she could get something going with Ben Monroe (Sandy
Winton), that hunk of a high school crisis counselor she meets when doing an
article on teen suicide. But no, a little Peeping Tammy reveals that Ben has a
cute wife and two precious kids. That's what's driving Pamela so buggy. Sure,
she's won a passel of writing awards. Sure, her career is a smash. But is she
happy? Does she regularly eat cold cereal for dinner? Doesn't her sexual
entertainment come largely from pornographic videos? So Pamela wonders if she
made a colossal mistake lo those dozen years ago when she turned down the
marriage proposal of college sweetheart Robert Dixon (David Roberts). Robert
was a hunk in his day, she did love him, and she hasn't loved anybody since.
Well, hold on, girlie, here comes that speeding vehicle, and once your noggin
is aching, you're going to get a chance to find out.
I concede that a bunch of this doesn't work. Pamela genuinely likes
her job, and she's so obviously popular with colleagues at her magazine that
they throw her a surprise birthday party complete with favors, funny hats and a
male stripper. Moreover, Pamela has close friends outside the office, and she
has a caring relationship with her family. So I really don't buy the notion
that the lack of a man in Pamela's life pushes her to the very brink of
suicide. That idea seems absolutely pre-1970s. I also don't believe a woman as
smart, capable and attractive as Pamela would be reduced to chanting self-help
slogans like "I love and approve of myself." Once Pamela has fallen into her
alternative life as Robert's wife and the mother of three, problems continue.
Pamela isn't sexually inexperienced, so why does she react like a 5-year-old on
Christmas morning when Robert walks out of the shower and takes his time before
pulling on his shorts. It's hardly as if she hasn't seen one before. The
picture correctly understands that parenting is a time-consuming, hardly
always-pleasant business and that an unfair burden of parental responsibility
commonly falls on the mother. But I still found the picture's relentless focus
on the rigors of toilet training to be needlessly distasteful.
Part of the picture's problems lie in its inconsistent construction
of Pamela's character. The Pamela who marries and the one who doesn't don't
seem to share the same genetic code. Why would Mom Pam allow her kids to push
her around, whereas Pro Pam sets them straight immediately about the dangers of
showing her disrespect? Why would Mom Pam write fluff for women's magazines,
while Pro Pam tells her boss off in an eyeblink? If Pro Pam is so particular
about the man she wanted to share her life with that she turned down Robert in
the first place, why would Mom Pam be so desperately indiscriminate later in
life as to have an affair with Geoff (Felix Williamson), a braying ass of a man
who all but has the word "creep" tattooed on his forehead?
Having registered all these complaints, I now rush to come full
circle and declare that despite its many and aggravating flaws, I liked this
picture in the end. Griffiths is an awfully compelling performer, and she's
completely game, pulling off a comic bit with a diaphragm as readily as doffing
her clothes for a love scene or squaring her jaw for some right-on declarations
of feminist indignation. In short, she makes Pamela -- Pro Pamela at least --
both complicated and likable. And, despite its occasional lapses in taste,
Me Myself I also has some intelligent things to say about the
contemporary institution of marriage. Equality is essential, not just in
principle but in practice. Honest communication also is required. Where love
blooms, difficulties and disagreements can be overcome. This picture knows that
in the high-pressure world of two-career families, marriages can grow stale,
fatigue wiping out loving gestures between husband and wife, children absorbing
the residual energies spouses might wish to save for each other. Treating this
material in a positive and hopeful way is a refreshing diversion from the norm.
People can change, this picture asserts; they can grow. The bread neglectfully
left out and shamefully grown hard can yet yield bread pudding.
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