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The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond, a screenplay written by American Legend (tm) Tennessee Williams, and discovered by Director Jodie Markell, proves why some screenplays deserve to remain lost.
Not that it's too much different from most of Williams' work: an over-privileged rich plantation girl, Fisher Willow (Bryce Dallas Howard, finally putting to rest the debate over whether she's a good actress or not, on the side of 'not') asks a poor plantation-hand, Jimmy Dobyne (Chris Evans, who should probably stick to picking up Ryan Reynolds' sloppy seconds) to be her escort at high society functions, in order to save her crumbling reputation. Williams, as usual, deals with complicated sexuality, the difficulties of status, and generally warms over themes he's hit a million times before. And then Markell proceeds to serve them all up in the most ham-fisted way possible.
Markell is a theater director with one short film to her credit, and she's clearly out of her depth here. This is far less a screenplay, than a stage play that had a few too many scenes to perform on stage effectively, so she blocks out the action like a play - which is a mistake. With few exceptions, Markell's direction is stiff and controlled; it may work on stage (and by her excellent reputation, it has), but stage direction does not translate to film. Markell even throws in a few lighting cues and spotlights for good measure, which is supposed to emphasize the dreamy quality of the final party (where Fisher loses the titular diamond), but instead just reminds you that you might as well be watching a high school production of A Streetcar Named Desire.
I mentioned earlier that Howard and Evans, who carry the bulk of the dialogue and emotion of the movie, are not very good. I want to be very clear: they are spectacularly not good. They are both mis-cast, and deliver their lines with the worst Southern accents I have ever heard. If you tried to read this review in a fake Southern accent, I guarantee it would sound more realistic than Howard and Evans. Someone tell them to stick to great works of art like Lady in the Water and Push, and leave Tennessee Williams alone.
If there's one saving grace to this movie (and believe me, there's only one), it's Ellen Burstyn, playing the dying Miss Addie, who convinces Fisher Willow to help her commit suicide while the climactic party continues downstairs. Burstyn is magnetic and firey while delivering monologue after monologue - and she's just lying on a bed. She proves that spectacular acting comes from the soul. When a primal screech escapes from her mouth, begging Fisher to just help her die, the movie, for a very brief moment, is shocked to life. Burstyn is magnetic, and almost makes the rest of this movie's excruciating running time worth sitting through.
Credit to Burstyn, and credit to Markell for knowing to just let her talk. If it had been on stage, the performance might have won a Tony. On screen, Burstyn is just vocalizing what the audience is feeling: kill us.
