If the relationship between ice queen Laura Linney (as a Manhattan WASP witch) and open-mouthed Scarlett Johansson (as her latest child-care provider) in The Nanny Diaries seems more than a tad familiar, thank a string of similar films also chronicling the calamitous relationship between an über diva and her put-upon (but morally superior) inferior. Especially thank last year’s The Devil Wears Prada, another Manhattan-based chick flick (based, like Diaries, on a chick lit best-seller) in which frosty Meryl Streep indoctrinated sweet (but smart) Anne Hathaway into the dark side of power and fame. The similarities, given the locales of both films and the trajectories of their stories, almost make it seem like they came from the same source. And even more than Prada, the movie has been shaped to offer audiences the old-fashioned chance to luxuriate in the trappings of New York’s super-wealthy and feel superior to these soulless privileged folks at the same time.
The movie begins with an old but workable device. As Johansson’s character, anthropology student Annie Braddock, narrates we see several history museum dioramas tracing the traditional role of women and their child-care providers in tribal cultures—which end, of course, with the variety of species residing in Manhattan, the ‘stone jungle’ (to borrow a phrase from All About Eve). Annie has just graduated from college and, though she gets a chance to interview with a high-powered brokerage that could give her a leg up in the business world, she’s not sure that’s what she wants. A chance meeting with Grayer (Nicholas Art), a seemingly sweet little boy, and Linney (his mother, referred to as Mrs. X) leads to a flurry of nanny interviews. But Mrs. X shows panache and skill in wheedling first-timer Annie into accepting a job as a full-time nanny (this done as a subtle, mournful version of Chim Chim Cheree plays on the soundtrack). Annie insists to her best friend, Lynette (Alicia Keys), that the job is temporary at best and, lying to her mother that she’s interning at a big brokerage, plunges in.
Naturally, the kid’s a nightmare and the job is hell from the get-go, although Annie does meet a Harvard hottie (Chris Evans, who unfortunately keeps his shirt on) stepping off the elevator as she’s moving into the X’s luxurious residence. Mrs. X is a parody of the impossibly demanding of one sort, but it is her husband (played by Paul Giamatti) who really takes the cake. Giamatti utilizes his extra girth to great effect, hunching down into his expensive suits like a tortoise and tersely speaking his orders. Giamatti’s baron of privilege with the massive ego reminds one of a cagey reptile, unblinking and uncaring. His horridness offers Linney the chance to bring shading to her icy character and momentarily gives Annie hope that perhaps she can convince her thoughtless employer to change her demanding ways.
The movie starts out like the book—a broad satire—but eventually falls victim to the standard Hollywood morality tale in which lessons will be learned and lives improved, redeemed or pitied for their lack of ability to grow. Annie will get a chance to have her say (via a strategically placed ‘nanny cam’ placed inside a bear) and her words will have the intended effect. The film’s patently false ending offers audiences what has traditionally been a much more satisfying (and more artificial) version of things.
Whether it’s Streep as The Devil Who Wears Prada, Faye Dunaway as Mommie Dearest or Cruella De Vil in 101 Dalmatians, these divine gorgons aren’t about to change their tune for any one—and canny audiences will ferret out that the change of heart in The Nanny Diaries is due less to Linney’s character than to the iron whim of a nameless Hollywood executive who has decreed that it must happen—and not one of these she-devils could withstand that kind of pressure.
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Everyone I’ve raved to about a French thriller called Them (which has an exclusive run at Piper’s Alley beginning this Friday) over the last week or so has responded, ‘The movie about the giant ants?’ It is not, and any confusion over the too-familiar title hopefully won’t keep people from experiencing this delicious little 77-minute exercise in suspense—it gives the word ‘them’ a whole new meaning that has nothing to do with ants.
Clémentine and Lucas, a young French couple, live in a huge, rambling house in the country and learn one night, to their horror, that there’s something evil out there in the surrounding woods and it wants to come in. Right now. The movie, in the grand ‘haunted house’ tradition, relies on good old-fashioned suspense rather than gore to earn its chills. Once the suspense takes hold it never lets up and the movie, based on a true story, has a great twist ending. As a huge fan of the genre, I’m happy to add this straight-forward thriller to my must list of ‘hide your eyes’ movies.
Film Screening of Note:
The Center on Halsted, 3656 N. Halsted, will present the Midwest premiere of Ten More Good Years, a thought-provoking documentary that focuses on LGBT elders, their providers and the special circumstances that face Our People as we enter our twilight years. One of the film’s subjects, Ivy Bottini, and its director, Mike Jacoby, will be on hand for the special screening, which will be held Sunday, Aug. 26, at 2 p.m. at the Center’s Hoover-Leppen Theater. Pre-register by calling 773-472-6469 as space is limited. FYI: There is a donation at the door. Cocktail reception and building tours will follow the screening and film discussion.
Check out my archived reviews at www.windycitytimes.com or www.knightatthemovies.com. People can leave feedback at the latter Web site, where there is alsoordering information on my new book, Knight at the Movies 2004-2006.