I can see why Colin Firth would be attracted to the role of a depressed American, but really, the script wasn't up to his level.
Firth and Emily Blunt star in "Arthur Newman," a 2012 film directed by Dante Ariola. Wallace Avery (Firth) is unhappy at his job as a floor manager. He's divorced, has a girlfriend (Anne Heche), and a young son who hates him. An excellent golfer, he didn't make it as a pro because of nerves. However, he helped a man with his slice, and as a result, has been offered the job of golf pro at a club in Terre Haute, Indiana. He fakes his death and takes off.
Along the way, he helps a young woman (Blunt) by taking her to the hospital. When she's better, she goes with him. Eventually, they become lovers. He finds out she's using a fake identity as well, running from a twin sister who is schizophrenic and may need her.
The two of them start to break into people's houses and take on their identities and make love in their beds.
This is a pretty boring, slow movie enlivened by the performances of the two leads. Along the way we learn something about the characters, but not enough to become truly invested in them. We just know they're miserable. We know Wallace's son hates him because he wasn't there for him, but we don't know why or what went on between them, or what happened with his ex-wife, and why his girlfriend is discontented.
It's sad because this could have been an amazing movie. It's about two people that learn what they love about each other and their value to those left behind. But it doesn't go into these facets deeply enough.
Both Firth and Blunt are excellent, trying to flesh out what's there. In the end, I was sympathetic to the characters but not really involved with them. It was sort of like giving street directions to two strangers and then wishing them luck.
