Shoot the Moon

Marriages disintegrate every day and, while there have been many movies about this subject, most are trite or hysterical or both. Despite some melodramatic touches, Shoot the Moon -- the 1982 film written by Bo Goldman, directed by Alan Parker, and famously praised by Pauline Kael -- is neither. George Dunlap (Albert Finney) is an award-winning writer living in northern Marin County, California with his wife, Faith (Diane Keaton), and their four daughters (Dana Hill, Viveka Davis, Tracey Gold, and Tina Yothers). The movie begins with the Dunlap marriage obviously strained and, following an argument, George leaves to live with his mistress, Sandy (Karen Allen).

The rest of Shoot the Moon consists of George trying to maintain a relationship with his youngest daughters while Faith and Sherry, the eldest, mope about. Faith hires contractor Frank Henderson (Peter Weller) to build a tennis court and, when the two hit it off, George -- who calls Frank a "redneck hippie" -- becomes jealous. Sandy tells George that if he doesn't "come through," she will have no trouble finding another man and he begins to wonder about his decision. All this builds to a scene from the trust-your-primal-instincts chapter in the John Cassavetes handbook.

The Dunlaps are one of the most believable families in American movies, especially compared to the strained sentimentality of Ordinary People, On Golden Pond, and Terms of Endearment (all from the same period). Sherry's confrontations with her father have considerable emotional power. Even better is the Faith-Frank seduction scene, which Parker stages in a wide shot with the characters sitting on opposing sofas, listening to the Rolling Stones' "Play with Fire."

Michael Seresin's cinematography makes the settings alternately beautiful and desolate. The opening montage, edited by Gerry Hambling, presents early morning images of a car and objects outside the Dunlap house to establish a tone of loneliness and loss. Although I find The Commitments thoroughly delightful, Shoot the Moon is Parker's best film in terms of visuals, pacing, and performances.

Keaton's Faith is like a blend of her Annie Hall mannerisms and the stubborn pride of Louise Bryant from Reds, which she had just made. Showing Faith's emotional uncertainty, Keaton's at her best in the seduction scene with Weller -- in pre-RoboCop, sexy stud mode -- and in a bathtub scene, smoking a joint while singing the Beatles' "If I Fell" before being overcome by emotions.

Finney makes George more sensitive than his usual blustery characters, even crying in the opening scene. Finney stands out in a bedside visit to his dying father-in-law (a terrific George Murdock), as George connects his need for his life to make sense with his desperation for the man to live and when George acts badly in another scene and tries to outrun his shame. Equally shameful is the fact that two of the actor's best films, Stephen Frears' Gumshoe and Finney's own Charlie Bubbles, are not on DVD.

Shoot the Moon is far from perfect. The symbolic significance of a visit to Jack London's burned house is too obvious, as is Faith's name. As in Woody Allen's movies, the characters are a bit too privileged with Faith cavalierly spending $12,000 on the tennis court at a time when this sum really meant something. Despite Kael's claim for the movie's honesty, the restaurant argument scene is phony, too much like a sitcom. Several times I wanted to slap the self-absorbed characters around.

After a slow start, Goldman and Parker's commentary becomes one of the best I've heard about making a film with both explaining how personal the film is. Especially interesting is the account of how production designer Geoffrey Kirkland built the Dunlap house as a "360-degree set." The original script by Goldman, Oscar winner for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and Melvin and Howard, was set in Chicago, but Kirkland advised moving it to the San Francisco area.

Parker talks about stealing the method of using a stationary camera and having actors walk in and out of the frame from Woody Allen, unaware of cinematographer Gordon Willis' recent revelation that he convinced a hesitant Woody to do this in Annie Hall. I wish Parker had said more about his use of music, which he claims was randomly chosen. "If I Fell," a restaurant pianist's screechy version of "Don't Blame Me," "Play with Fire," the Eagles' "I Can't Tell You Why" (sorry, Dude), and Bob Seger's "Still the Same" (which Parker credits to Pete Seeger!) all comment on the characters' situations. "Play with Fire" even calls attention to the class difference between Faith and Frank.

This excellent disc would have been even better had it included interviews with Finney, Keaton, Weller, and the three surviving daughters (Hill died in 1996). Unlike many movies from the early eighties, Shoot the Moon is not a period piece and, despite a few flaws, it invites continued viewing. -- Michael Adams