The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Ned Benson/Starring: Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Viola Davis, William Hurt, Isabelle Huppert, Bill Hader and Ciaran Hinds

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them is a variation of the film's two other incarnations; Her and Him, which tells the same story but from the different perspectives of the respective characters.

The film already suffers from an unfortunate title. If one had never seen a preview for director Ned Benson's feature film debut, one could think the story a sequel to the Yellow Submarine or a film related to the Beatles.

Jessica Chastain plays Eleanor Rigby, who was christened so after her father showed up for a Beatles reunion that turned out to be a hoax. I guess we can be grateful she wasn't named after some other Beatles' song; I don't think The Disappearance of Rocky Raccoon carries the same gravitas.

After the opening scene where we see Eleanor and her husband Conor Ludlow (James McAvoy) being carried away in the throes of love, we're immediately jarred by what follows. We see Eleanor in an over-the-shoulder shot as she walks along a bridge. She stops, then disappears offscreen. A bystander becomes horrified at what he sees and runs to prevent what becomes a suicide attempt though he fails to reach her in time. She narrowly escapes death after she is pulled from her would-be watery grave.

At this point we don't know why someone so in love would try to off themselves and it is to Benson's credit that he witholds the information, which keeps us intensely curious.

Eleanor, in a delicate emotional state, returns to her parents suburban home to convalesce. Her parents; Julian and Mary Rigby (William Hurt and Isabelle Huppert, respectively) her sister Katy and her nephew provide emotional support as Eleanor recovers.

Meanwhile, her estranged husband Conor desperately tries to keep his failing restaurant in the city afloat but he finds it difficult when his friend and underachieving, uninspired and apathetic chef Stuart (Bill Hader) is more an obstruction than an asset.

As Conor tries to reestablish contact with his wife, Eleanor tries to distract herself by enrolling in a class at city college. Her professor, Lillian Friedman (Viola Davis) was once a colleague of her father's. Lillian is suspicious of Eleanor's motives for taking her course, thinking it might be a lark but accepts her anyway. The two form a friendship over the course of the semester, meeting for coffee after class.

During a moment of subtle exposition, we learn the motive behind Eleanor's suicide attempt: the tragic death of her infant son.

The film does well introducing so many characters; arranging them like satellites around the main protagonists. Eleanor is drawn into the dramas of her family, which are slowly teased out; her father's fear of not providing proper paternal support, her mother's regret about giving up her music to raise a family and her sister Katy's single parent status. But we also learn a little about the people in Conor's life, particularly his father Spencer (Ciaran Hinds); a successful restaurateur who is the object of his son's scorn for his supposed disregard for Conor's mother.

One might think the loss of a child and the subsequent frayed marriage would be enough drama for one film but story insists everyone have their story, which deal with themes of parenting or the lack thereof. This poses a problem for the director; we're asked to feel empathy for so many characters whose stories deserve more time and attention than the film can possibly devote. Though Viola Davis is a powerful presence and her character worthy of screentime, Professor Friedman is little more than a repository of world-weary wisdom for Eleanor but in the end, she dispenses very little that is useful. The same problem applies to the other supporting actors; the three H's: Hurt, Huppert and Hinds, whose stock-in-trade is playing well-rounded characters with depth. If you cast actors as talented as H3, you better serve them characters deep as the Marianas Trench. But given their limited screentime, they are still fun to watch.

The same can be said of Jessica Chastain and James McAvoy. Chastain is a riveting presence in any film. Her luminous beauty and striking red hair almost distract us from her performance, which is typically accomplished. James McAvoy is equally fine but the film as a whole doesn't utilize any of the considerable talents to great effect. It creates interesting situations and backstories but somehow it only touches on them timidly.

It's an error in judgement to sell this movie as a romance. A critic's endorsement is seen on many of the movie posters for the film that read "One of the most romantic love stories ever." Aside from being ridiculous, hyperbolic praise, the statement is also misleading. I wouldn't call a film about a couple dealing with death of their infant a romantic love story, would you? Not that a movie of this ilk needs to avoid romance altogether but this isn't Roman Holiday. Maybe I'm being too unreasonable.

And I have no idea what the Beatles' song has to do with the themes or the narrative in the movie. The use of an iconic rock song in the title smacks of a gimmicky ploy to lure a certain audience. Aside from a few references, the song plays no thematic role in the film.

But ultimately, the problem with the film isn't its silly title. One of the film's major failings is its inability to make one feel anything--aside from a little pity--for Eleanor and Conor's emotional plight and shaky marriage. But I felt little else. I wasn't even interested in the will-they, won't--they issue the final scene addresses definitively.

The song Eleanor Rigby asks, "All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" My response: in a movie that isn't emotionally flat; one better suited to the considerable talents of the cast.