7 out of 10
Cast:
Blake Lively as Adaline Bowman
Michiel Huisman as Ellis Jones
Harrison Ford as William Jones
Anthony Ingruber as Young William
Ellen Burstyn as Flemming
Kathy Baker as Connie Jones
Amanda Crew as Kikki Jones
Lynda Boyd as Regan
Anjali Jay as Cora
Richard Harmon as Tony
Mark Ghanimé as Caleb
Barclay Hope as Stanley Chesterfield
Chris William Martin as Dale Davenport
Lane Edwards as Dr. Larry Levyne
Peter J. Gray as Clarence James Prescott
Directed by Lee Toland Krieger
Review:
There is an infinite amount that can be written about a person who doesn’t age and has witnessed and reacted what for most of us only exists in books, which is probably why most stories which attempt the subject do their best to limit it to the most conventional of narratives. It really is a staggering proposition if you think about it, so maybe the various individuals who have made a big attempt at it can be forgiven for using it as a gimmick for solving crimes, meeting the most famous people in history, or seeing some major cultural events as they happened (in a life that typically only goes back as far as very modern civilization).
Which can and does make for interesting characters but gives them little more to do than anyone else and seldom takes interest in how different they would have to be beyond a certain reserved ennui. Making it the conceit of a romance film just makes that sort of escape route that much easier and keeps “The Age of Adaline” from ever fulfilling its ambitious potential.
The Adaline in question being one Adaline Bowman (Lively), who has had a long and strange life, meeting and then losing her husband during the construction of the Golden Gate bridge, followed by a near fatal car crash which plunged her into icy waters and becoming frozen in time, giving her decades and decades to partake in with the vitality of youth and the observed contextualization of experience.
The inherent contradiction of such a nature is as fascinating as it sounds and Lively makes the most of it, imbuing Adaline with a sly wit and shy reticence that explains why people seem so drawn to her. She has made the most of her life, studying herself and the world around her, and picking up a heightened sense of that world enough to do Sherlock Holmes proud on her ability to pick up on small details and extract meaning from them. (Maybe those people who just use the immortality conceit to fuel their detective stories are on to something – Adaline the immortal sleuth would probably be more interesting than the one we actually have).
Director Lee Kreiger supports Lively admirably with a story that approaches its fantastical elements in a grounded, believable way – much like Adaline herself – without giving up its fairy tale roots. Like any good fairy tale character, Adaline’s also made very little of her life, moving constantly from place to place, never laying down roots and avoiding attempts at real connection beyond her still-aging daughter, an issue ripe for exploration but which is unfortunately reduced simply to ‘Adaline needs a man.’ Maybe it’s because the infinite is so terrifying, a blank page without end that gives hint or clue to what the beginning or end could be, making the regular, the clichéd and hackneyed an inviting handhold when trying to grapple with it.
It’s a problem not too different from the heart of all writing, trying to understand and explain someone other than yourself – say a man writing about the inner life of women or a woman – and is often approached in the same way by grabbing onto a well-known facet and refusing to let go to the exclusion of anything going on in the narrative world. In this case that means pushing out all of the elements in her life – friends, her work, her daughter (Burstyn) – which don’t focus on her love life, reducing a character being sold to us as deep and compelling to a single point of interest.
And just to make sure we go along for the ride, Kreiger and screenwriters J. Mills Goodloe and Salvador Paskowitz have tilted the deck as much in favor of the romance angle as possible, primarily by creating an unbelievable leading man to tempt Adaline out of her loner ways. Worried about what would happen to her if the public at large learned of a real life immortal woman living in their midst, Adaline has resigned herself to a life apart from other people, or she had until she met the earnest and irrepressible Ellis. By unbelievable I mean I literally can’t believe in Ellis, a do-gooder philanthropist who made his millions creating an algorithm for studying climate change which just happens to be good for predicting stock market changes too.
Huisman tries his best to instill all the charm he can into Ellis, but it’s an uphill battle for a character who only really talks about three topics, his father’s astronomy work, how much he likes saving the planet and how much likes Adaline. All admittedly admirable traits in a fantasy woo-pitcher, but nothing that creates any sort of lasting impression beyond the aftertaste of bile. There are no edges to him, no secrets, nothing to give him dimension. The only fights he has with Adaline are because he likes her too much.
The result in many of these cases is frequently opposite of whatever the writer’s original intentions were, mundane and derivative, telling people things they already know because charting new waters is so much riskier. It’s a tack made particularly noticeable here when it turns out Ellis is actually the son of Adaline’s last great love (Ford), a coincidence that propels the plot forward but retards enjoyment of it due to how timely it is.
It’s not exactly the last nail in the coffin – Lively is just too enjoyable on screen for that – but nothing can hide the fact that, much like it’s central figure, on the surface “Adaline” seems willing able to offer more, but the more you investigate the more it pulls away from you. Worse, when it does show its cards they are entirely reductive, eschewing drama and character for old romance chestnuts.
There’s still something to be said about making an original stab at the romance genre (especially when it often seems so much easier just to adapt another Nicholas Sparks book), but some effort is needed, too, or what’s the point?
