Intelligent moviegoers certainly won't go 'Here'

COURTESY TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX Natalie Portman's crying for two reasons. First, it's a bad chick flick. Second, Harvard inhales with admirable suction.

Warning: Anywhere But Here contains horrible clichés, painfully trite dialogue, and a variety of scenes meant to be either "cute" or "moving," all of which induce the overwhelming desire to scream hysterically and run from the theater. That's what the poster for this film would say if there were any truth in advertising in Hollywood—which, unfortunately, there isn't. Consequently, the possibility remains that certain unknowing individuals may attempt to see this film, a course of action which would be highly dangerous if not handled appropriately. Therefore, as a public service, I believe it important to provide a sense of just how terrible Anywhere But Here is, so no one will be taken aback should he or she be so unfortunate as to see it.

This film, based on the novel by Mona Simpson, stars Susan Sarandon and Natalie Portman as a mother and daughter who move from Wisconsin to Beverly Hills in order to start a new life. Beverly Hills, however, does not turn out to be quite the paradise they expected. Making enough money to get by becomes difficult, and Adele's (Sarandon) daughter Ann (Portman) finds her mother increasingly overbearing and clingy. Director Wayne Wang intends for the film to be a rollercoaster ride of feelings, accompanying Ann and Adele along their life's journey and getting caught up in the emotions of their everyday lives. However, their lives have so little to do with reality, and their characters are so poorly drawn, that the film cannot help but fail.

It does not help that Wang's direction is melodramatic and pushy, forcing viewers toward his intended reactions. This is surprising coming from a director who has shown such refined and delicate taste in his previous films, including last year's Chinese Box, a romance set in Hong Kong right before the Chinese takeover, which pungently captured the air of excitement and hysteria of a specific time and place. In contrast, Anywhere But Here is set in a Los Angeles completely removed from any reality, other than the L.A. depicted in other films. Sarandon and Portman have repeated encounters with a friendly, amicable LAPD officer, who gives them advice about their lives, and leads Portman to say, "I will always carry a soft spot in my heart for the LAPD." At some points in the film, Ann and Adele have so little money they cannot afford to pay for electricity, but when Adele goes on a date, she has enough money to buy herself a new outfit—and new shoes.

The film even includes a montage sequence in which Portman and her cousin cruise around the city in a convertible and visit the set of Baywatch (no joke). Not to argue that for a film to be successful it must grapple with the realities of the present, but to so blatantly disregard any notion of real life is an egregious error.

Anywhere But Here's dialogue feels cribbed from other genre films. Lines like "My daddy always told me that if you have a dime in your pocket, you go and get your shoes shined" feel like gems of pseudo-wisdom left out of Forrest Gump. And any film where a mother's closing line to her daughter upon sending her off to college is "And wear your seatbelt, OK?" has clearly ascended into the hyperspace of absurdia. The wall-to-wall sound-track of Lilith Fair caterwauling highlights what already has become obvious: that this film is directed toward a certain segment of the population who want to be forced to cry at visual gunpoint. Anywhere But Here tries to do so, but its lack of true emotion gives the film an impersonal, secondhand tone.

The one redeeming aspect of the film is Portman. She gets a chance to shine in this lackluster surrounding and is positively radiant in her beauty, intelli-gence, and nuanced acting. Portman's scenes with Sarandon come off as forced, but interacting with other teenagers, she has an infectious charm that puts the majority of more experienced actresses to shame. When she smiles, it's hard to resist doing the same. It is truly unfortunate that Portman wastes her talents in such a painfully clichéd film. Also worth noting is Corbin Allred as Ann's semi-love interest, Peter, who brings an intriguing combination of California skater chic and puppy-dog innocence to his role. The genuine heart of Portman and Allred's all-too-brief sequences together shows up the rest of the film, exposing it in all its excess of manufactured emotion.

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