'Fingerprints' makes no impression

Thanksgiving is almost here, which means it's time once again for turkey, football, and movies about dysfunctional families. The Myth of Fingerprints, complete with all the requisite awkward conversations, mid-meal fights and pained silences that one would expect from a pretentious art-house film about Thanksgiving, serves up a trite, clichéd story full of heavy, ponderous angst. Full of semi-developed subplots and half-assed attempts at profundity, The Myth of Fingerprints really does try to be different from all of the other Hollywood movies about awkward family reunions. Unfortunately, for its beautiful, artistic cinematography and its talented ensemble cast, the film can't manage to rise above first-time writer/director Bart Freundlich's clunky style.

The movie focuses on the trials of a WASPy family that reunites for Thanksgiving for the first time in years. Roy Scheider plays the father, an eccentric lecher who supposedly is the root of the majority of his family's troubles. Blythe Danner (Gwyneth Paltrow's mom) plays the female head of the household--a gentle, caring soul who doesn't get many important lines or much screen time. Their four children come home for the holiday, either bringing their significant others or stressing over the fact that they don't have significant others. One son, Warren (the scruffy, disheveled Noah Wyle, doing a competent job in his first big movie role), who is especially resentful of his father, has been pining for an old girlfriend and has returned home in hopes of seeing her. His brother, Jake (portrayed by attractive null set Michael Vorten), brings his ditzy girlfriend (Hope Davis) to the holiday, while his über-bitch sister Mia (Julianne Moore) brings her significant other as well. The fourth sibling, Leigh (Laurel Hol-loman) sits around, gives foot massages to Mia's boyfriend, and does little or nothing to advance the movie's plot. Family secrets are exposed, awkward glances are exchanged, fights break out, and then, finally, the holiday ends and everyone goes home.

The idea of self-discovery through familial resentment is not a new one. I hoped that this film wouldn't fall prey to banality, but I felt disappointment creeping up on me the second the movie started. When the film opened with grainy home movie footage of a children's birthday party, I couldn't help but cringe. Half-expecting to hear Kevin Arnold's voice and a backing track by The Byrds, I tried hard to curb my skepticism. Much to my surprise, I was able to do just that until about halfway through the movie. The beginning of the film is surprisingly engaging, thanks mostly to solid performances from Freundlich's cast. Unfortunately, by the second half, the pace has gone from slow to absolutely lethargic.

What begins as only mild, excusable pretentiousness on Freundlich's part slowly escalates, as the film progresses, into full-blown, self-indulgent tripe. As the characters get moodier, the dramatic pauses get longer, the far-away gazes get even farther away, and the viewer eventually gets tired of waiting around for something important to happen. By the end of the film, characters are having life-changing revelations through excerpts of pompous literature and walking through the woods to the tune of offbeat, sugary French pop music. If that's not a crime, I don't know what is.

Freundlich's main problem is that he mistakenly assumes that volumes can be spoken through long, weighty glances. While this dramatic tactic admittedly does work well in many situations, it is probably not the best idea to base an entire movie upon it. The result is a characterization that has a general semblance of depth, but which lacks the emotional conviction to back it up.

I tried really hard to like this movie. Really, I did. Unfortunately, The Myth of Fingerprints is nothing more than an average movie made annoying by a clunky, self-important script.

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