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From: blp Category: Films Date: 01 April 2007 Time: 08:05 AM Review: 'I like mayonnaise and mustard. And give me it with some chips. The barbecue ones, not the plain ones. Your mother ate those. In fact, you can take those with you. I won't eat 'em.' I used to live in America. It's just like this. Just like it. The dialogue looks boring written down and it is, that's the point, the kind of sentences you start and then think, broadly speaking, this is the most banal, undignified sentence and if I finish it I will probably suffocate, but I can't stop because this is all there is, an enveloping glut of nutrient-reft material that somehow must all be discussed. And it just goes on and on, a relentless, heartrending trudge through tense ridiculous, colourless people's lives with nothing to make it palatable. So so many other films would have set up a much more clichéed, cartoon version of this, then provided an escape hatch in the form of some wayward hippy or punk or beatnik or other free spirit. The straightlaced main character would have disliked the new person at first, then warmed to them as their vivifying injection of chaos began to loosen them up. None of that here; no salvation; no escape. The hippy types are much more what we recognise from reality – passive aggressive, naff and embarrassing in their attempts at freedom. Kathy Bates gets into the jacuzzi naked with Jack Nicholson, her soon to be in-law, and explains to him, 'We don't give bought presents at Christmas. We make them ourselves. It can be a painting, a poem or whatever inspires you.' No salvation or escape, just moments of release that are always cut off too soon.