Lymelife
Running time 95 minutes
Written by Steven and Derick Martini
Directed by Derick Martini
Starring Alec Baldwin, Kieran Culkin, Rory Culkin, Jill Hennessy, Timothy Hutton and Cynthia Nixon
Next to getting laid, young independent filmmakers today, working with digital cameras on ginger ale budgets, seem primarily concerned with escaping from dysfunctional families in the suburbs. It is never clear just whom, what or where they’re escaping to, but like Porgy, they’re on their way. There seems to be one new coming-of-age movie per week, and this week it’s Lymelife, a dark prism of suburban life about young people from Long Island (more sloe-eyed Culkins—two of them, in fact) in a hurry to get out. I can sympathize. I felt the same way about this movie.
Set in Syosset, Long Island in the late 1970s, Lymelife follows two families on the same street who fall apart when overcome by miserable marriages, real estate problems, the failing economy and Lyme disease. The Bartletts are Dad, Mom and two sons. Fifteen-year-old Scott (Rory Culkin) is a gentle kid, victimized by the school bully, terrorized by his blustery, blowhard father, Mickey (Alec Baldwin); terminally depressed about his sick, neurotic mother (Jill Hennessy); and awed by his older brother, Jimmy (Kieran Culkin), who is home for a brief visit on leave from the Army and in constant conflict with his dad. In one of the saddest Thanksgivings on record, their mom sunbathes on the roof and burns up the Thanksgiving turkey, and they end up with TV dinners. Then there are the Braggs—unemployed, sad sack Charlie (Timothy Hutton); his wife, Melissa (Cynthia Nixon); and their pretty daughter, Adrianna (Julia Roberts’ niece Emma, who starred as teen detective Nancy Drew in the ill-fated remake). Stricken by the outbreak of Lyme disease that is plaguing Long Island and rendering everyone paranoid, the infected Charlie is unable to work, so he thrashes around in the woods with his rifle, forcing his wife to support the family by selling real estate with Mickey, who is developing an enormous subdivision. While Scott loses his virginity with Adrianna, Mrs. Bragg lusts in the basement with Mr. Bartlett. Aware of all the philandering, Mrs. Bartlett goes slowly bananas longing for their old home in Queens, and Mr. Bartlett grows closer by the hour to a showdown with his .22 gauge rifle. Amid the yelling, the violence, the weeping and the bloody noses, the genetic makeup of both families is altered forever, and not for the better. If only it was all leading up to some kind of happy ending—or any ending at all. But nothing ever happens in Lymelife, and you are left scratching your head and asking, “Huh?”
Directed by Derick Martini from a plodding screenplay co-written with his brother Steven, Lymelife has a moment-to-moment realism that deserves an A for effort. Both boys are from Long Island, and the film has unmistakably autobiographical elements. So what? Rarely have I seen such a waste of worthy talent. Disintegrating physically from Lyme disease and taking it out on every deer he can find, Mr. Hutton sulks, mopes and phones it in. Driving his sons away with his insults, disapproval and adultery, Mr. Baldwin does what’s right for the role of Mickey, and he’s such a good actor that he manages to move between sentimental sap and son of a bitch with tenderness and terror. Still, you can’t help but wonder what ever attracted him to the role of such a miserable sod in the first place. Watching their parents in such desperation, the three kids observe all the psychotic mood shifts and infidelities around them with a cynicism that takes its toll on their own youth. I wish I had more empathy for these characters, but all their laughing, crying and getting their noses bloodied wore out their welcome fast. Everybody in Lymelife wants to leave town, and I wanted to buy them a bus ticket.
rreed@observer.com
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