ecobiker-00710

What am I missing? The cloying sentimentality that was transparent from pretty much the first scene (ok, maybe not the first scene) quickly became unbearable. And did we really have to hear the title track three times in barely an hour and a half? It seemed like the whole point was to showcase some pretty average music. Couldn't wait for it to be over.

This film adapts a Jean Kerr novel about her life with a professor-turned-theater-critic. Apparently, the novel is hilarious, but this film is anything but. Even the trailer -- which for a comedy should really capture the best laugh lines -- elicited barely a chuckle. Or maybe audiences then were less sophisticated: who knows? Anyway, the best diagnosis of this film is that David Niven is horribly miscast. Doris Day is her usual charming self, if not a bit anodyne (no surprise there, sorry!), but there is just nothing by way of chemistry between David Niven and her that would make you think that this is anything but an attempt to cash in on two brand-name actors. Niven's character alternates between flying off the handle and almost robotically delivering lines better suited for some boringly handsome American actor than for an actor of Niven's caliber.

Moreover, when the story line takes the characters to the fictional Hudson River exurb of Hooton (which sounds more like somewhere in Appalachia or the Mayberry South than anything in that part of the world), the pastiche of crazy local townspeople is almost too much to bear.

That it goes on for just under two hours adds insult to injury.

It's no wonder that the film's budget was nearly $11 million. "A Promise" is truly gorgeously shot.

It's equally no surprise that the US box-office take was less than $1 million. I don't know at whose feet to lay the blame for this soporific set-piece: casting? direction? I do know that this is a love story without much in the way of romantic feeling. Perhaps a boy-meets-girl, boy-gets-girl plot is way too predictable these days, but there was so little spark, particularly from the younger of the two male leads, that I did not even root for the typical outcome.

It was clever, I suppose, to substitute "British" class-based accents for a story set in Germany to distinguish characters' social classes from one another. (How would the average viewer know a higher-class German-accented English versus a lower-class one?) And there were certainly other competent directorial decisions. There may have also been an anachronism or two, however, including a clunky scene near the end alluding to the rise of Nazism, but the timing wasn't completely clear (right after the war? early 1920s?), so I'll give M. Leconte a pass on that.

May the great Alan Rickman, a highlight of this production, rest in peace.