Then She Found Me

(2007, 100 min) Helen Hunt's feature directorial debut comes dressed in distinctively indie trappings. The cinematography is intentionally drab and action, at least in the beginning, tends to happen off-screen. It is in these opening moments that play out somewhat theatrically that the film finds its strength. But once all of the setup info is established, the film begins to slip into shapelessness and, worse, sentimentality.

Hunt's Hollywood-seasoned cast makes a valiant attempt to play down the caricatures that they've earned their livings playing up. Matthew Broderick's self-centered manchild lacks the smirking and mugging that he generally lends to similar characters. Colin Firth removes approximately one layer of restraint and adds one layer each of jealousy and rage to his Mark Darcy character from the Bridget Jones series. Bette Midler, while the most expressive character in the film, dulls her brass ever so slightly. Finally, Hunt shows up as the life-scarred, beaten-down type that she's made a career out of playing since As Good As It Gets but removes any semblance of pluck or humor. All of these acting tweaks and character modifications are designed to distinguish the film from the typical sunny romantic comedy that is so fearful of becoming. But, in reality, only two elements successfully separate it. One, at its core, the story centers more around Hunt's desire for a baby and, two, it is not remotely funny. In fact, there may be only one moment in the entire film which will cause viewers to even crack a smile.

Hunt is clearly attempting to put together a precious character study and is all restraint and no risk, but this creates a stifled atmosphere in which none of the characters are developed as well as they ought to be which leaves this film only a mood piece. A mood piece is certainly no crime against cinema, but when the mood that permeates is self-pity then viewers will certainly be excused if they want to turn away.

Even more jarring than the lack of full character development is the atrocious musical supervision. The score often resembles the background music of a self-help video and the song choices (Iron and Wine during a sex scene!) are more than a little cliché. These bad choices betray Hunt's noble attempt to keep the film sparse and render it simply maudlin.

The film is not completely unredeemable. It simply lacks any spark or commitment to its vision, but single women in their late 30s experiencing an identity crisis will most likely enjoy it.

– Daniel Reed

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