Not-quite-'Wonder'-ful muddled melodrama

Wonderland, the new film by British director Michael Winterbottom is a strange mixture of melodramatic plot and pseudo-profundity conveyed in a tastefully restrained and somewhat original style. At its core, the story concerns three young sisters' relationships with men. Conveniently enough for this theme, one of the sisters is single, another recently married, and the last of the three, divorced.

COURTESY USA FILMS If three women are really sad in a forest, and no one cares, does it even matter?

Nadia (Gina McKee), the youngest, is so lonely and desperate that she must resort to personal ads to find dates. This is a little strange, since she is a very charming and attractive woman, but it certainly allows the director to teach us some much-needed lessons. For example, Nadia learns that appearances can be deceptive: she falls briefly in love with the second man she meets, only to discover that underneath the warm veneer lies cold, cold indifference. But perhaps the most valuable lesson we are allowed to take away is that, really, she'll be much happier once she passively accepts the love of the man who has been feverishly and secretly obsessing over her.

Meanwhile, the married sister (Molly Parker) struggles to keep the love of her husband, and to domesticate him as much as she can before she gives birth. The man gets scared and, like most apprehensive fathers (at least according to what other movies have taught me before), leaves to go drink and wander moodily through the streets at night. She suffers—that is, she pouts and cries by the window in the soft morning light—and calls her sisters for advice.

Nadia has little to say, but her older, divorced sister (Shirley Henderson) has seen it all and can counsel her well. "Don't cry," she instructs her, "don't cry." She has indeed earned the right to give this advice. She left her husband, who was an alcoholic and a no-good louse, and has since had to struggle with raising a little boy all by herself. This little boy is all she has, and she doesn't want anyone else. For her, men have become little more than sexual tools.

The melodrama is not confined to these three characters—it is let loose upon all of London. The former husband of the eldest sister learns his lesson and will be wiser. The father of the sisters finally hears from his long-lost son, and triumphantly rebounds from his dejection. Even race relations move toward harmony.

But in the midst of all the melodrama and ideological conservatism, Winterbottom has a style that, if not entirely radical or innovative, is still rare in today's commercial, feature-length cinema. Much of the film is shot with a hand-held camera—and with good reason. On London's streets, this method makes the point of view more personal, closer to that of a pedestrian than that of an outside observer—suggesting that the story, in some sense, is told by and about the whole city. The style also fits well with the shakiness and uncertainty of the characters' lives.

The contributions of camera technique aside, the whole texture of the film is unusual. It often feels like a documentary, or like something already steeped in time, though apparently new.This feeling of spontaneity is not exactly one in visual composition or dialogue, but rather something subtle about the color palette. Maybe it's just cheap British film stock; I really don't know.

And then there is that manner, which as far as I know had its beginnings in Run Lola Run, of (now and again) fragmenting footage of faces by skipping from one finished expression to another to symbolize, what exactly? The neurotic nature of city life? A compressed passage of time? Some pretty pictures? All I know is that to me, the style is ugly and annoying. I'd have a private slideshow with a slide projector if I wanted to look at snapshots.

Film

Wonderland Directed by Michael Winterbottom Starring: Gina McKee, Shirley Henderson York Square Cinema

When Winterbottom leaves the actors' faces alone though, they do all right on their own. McKee, tall with a long face reminiscent of Shelley Duvall's, naturally looks a little awkward, but this fits the role. When she doesn't like the first man she meets through the personals, her gradual descent from timid excitement to boredom and embarrassment during their date is quite convincing. Shirley Henderson, who plays the divorced sister, seems harried and worried enough when her former husband is bothering her or when anything happens to her son, but isn't terribly believable in her saucy-and-promiscuous-wench bits. Molly Parker, the married one, just mopes around monotonously. As for the little boy (Ian Hart), he is no young genius. He is just a little boy, like Maculay Culkin, the kid from Sixth Sense, and all the rest of the beautiful prodigies.

In the end, in spite of some interesting themes, semi-novel techniques, and the best efforts of McKee, Wonderland just can't support its own weighty material. As much as the audience might sympathize with the loneliness of these women, it is apathy—not sympathy—that Winterbottom's experimental but off-target film evokes.

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