Ricki and the Flash

**Spoiler Alert**

Director: Jonathan Demme/Starring: Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline, Mammie Gummer, Rick Springfield and Audra McDonald

Ricki and the Flash comes with a compliment of Oscar-celebrated talent: Director Jonathan Demme, Oscar-winner and oft-nominated Meryl Streep and Oscar-winning screenwriter Diablo Cody, so my question is: how can an assemblage of so much talent collaborate on what is essentially monumental, ghastly junk? I can understand Streep and Cody's significant contributions to this manure (see my diatribe on Streep in my blogpost; The Pantheon of the Overrated, Overexposed etc., and my forthcoming follow-up, in which Cody will figure prominently); both being honorary citizens of that unfortunate nation known as Mediocrystan, but Jonathan Demme? Demme, whose given us cinematic gold with Stop Making Sense, Something Wild and Silence of the Lambs, now smudges his impressive oeuvre with what is essentially a tepid, timid drama heated to scorching temperatures. Blame can almost be distributed evenly: Demme's sub-standard direction and Streep's tiresome hamming shoulder much of the blame but the biggest culprit may be Cody's script, which, like much of her other work, is uneven, sloppy and lazily conceived. What did Demme and Streep see in this story? A vanity project for Streep, who gets to sing and mimic a rock musician? An opportunity for Demme to make a musical narrative to bookend his numerous music docs? Let's leave the rhetorical questions and move on.

Streep plays Ricki Rendazzo, an aging, failed rock musician who, with her band The Flash, are the house-band at a shabby bar in a small town in California. Ricki's look is all rock star: long, partially-braided hair, heavy black eye-liner and funky, skinny jeans or tight black leather with black boots and towering heels. Her band is comprised of ragged-looking musicians (played by real-life rockers Joe Vitale, Rick Rosas and Rick Springfield) who look like they've played on one-too many roadhouse stages.

Her band is forced to pander to the bar crowd by belting out rock standards like Tom Petty's American Girl and more contemporary pop like Lady Gaga's Bad Romance. When not performing onstage, Ricki works in the check-out lane at the local health-food super market.

Ricki's quasi-romance with the lead guitarist of the Flash, Greg (Rick Springfield) is impeded by her reluctance to be in a relationship and a little of her self-loathing, which tries his patience.

Ricki receives grim news from her ex-husband Pete (Kevin Kline, in a dull, hyper-under-imagined role) in Indiana, who informs her that their daughter Julie's (Streep's real-life daughter, Mamie Gummer, in a role that is mostly extreme emoting) husband has left her. Though Ricki has been an absentee mother; having left the family when Julie was a child, Pete insists her presence might rescue their daughter from her steep, emotional decline.

Ricki gathers her guitar case and flies to Indianapolis. She shows up at Pete's home; a palatial spread that eloquently reflects his success. Ricki's rock musician appearance, which never changes, is a dramatic contrast to Pete's stiff, professional attire, which is matched by his demeanor. The script's shortcomings are immediately apparent. In no way can we imagine that Pete and Ricki were once a couple nor can we imagine--given her lifestyle and appearance--how she might have been attracted to such a straight-laced corpse, or he her. It seems like one of those Diablo Cody-esque touches that rings false from the get-go.

Pete is hardly surprised to find that Ricki doesn't have money for the taxi nor money for lodging, which makes it necessary for him to put her up. The fact that Pete's wife is away tending to her father is convenient for Ricki.

As Ricki marvels at the posh, comfortable surroundings, she learns more about her daughter's situation, which isn't good. Just as Ricki begins to settle in, Julie makes a noisy, dramatic entrance; essentially attacking her mother for her bad motherness. Seeing Julie in her wildly disheveled hair and bathrobe makes her an irritating rather than a sympathetic presence.

Over the course of a few days, Julie's combative behavior begins to subside when Ricki becomes a calming influence. Before that is accomplished, Ricki attends a dinner with Pete and Julie (who doesn't change out of her bathrobe and pajamas), where they meet up with Ricki's sons. One is engaged, with his fiance in attendance and the other is a young, gay man who is uncomfortable with sharing his personal life with his mother. Ricki's views on her son's preferences are decidedly reactionary but the given fact that she is an unabashed Bush supporter with a Don't Tread on Me tattoo on her back (ostensibly a symbol of her rebellion but really just dumb); we can acknowledge her consistence.

Julie blurts out inappropriately that her brother doesn't want Ricki to attend the wedding. The whole scene is meant to be awkward and a jarring reminder to Ricki how estranged she is from her children's lives but it mostly comes across as a mechanical contrivance that accomplishes little but to move an already flagging story forward. The family's noisy airing out of grievances attracts the unwanted attention of the upscale restaurant's patrons, who can't help but stare. Whether their stares are prompted by the family's momentary lack of social grace or their tediousness isn't immediately obvious.

Before Ricki returns to California, she makes a breakthrough with her daughter but Pete's wife Maureen (Audra McDonald) returns home; setting up what is supposed to be another awkward confrontation. Maureen has been the de facto parent of Ricki's kids, which of course is an incendiary bone of contention between the two.

Ricki returns home and though it feels as if the second act has just played before our eyes, nothing one could call rich, real conflict has taken place. Ricki accomplishes her mission without much resistance from her daughter. One would think a lifetime of resentment and anger might take years to resolve or reconcile but in this story, it's accomplished in less than twenty minutes of screen-time.

When Ricki returns to her gigging and Greg, more screen-time is filled with an overly generous portion of performance footage. Of course part of the film's draw is the promise of hearing and seeing Streep and band perform but it also serves as time-filler.

Ricki and Greg seem to work out their relationship without much storm and stress. When Ricki receives an invitation to the wedding she didn't expect to attend (from Maureen; a gesture of reconciliation), she tells Greg she can't afford to go, which inspires in him a self-less sacrifice.

The film's third act is the wedding, where predictability becomes the watchword. Aside from a couple of character developments, it isn't difficult to determine if and how Ricki might make peace with her family.

I got what I expected from Ricki and the Flash, which wasn't much. The sad fact that it didn't make much of an effort to challenge my expectations is one of its glaring flaws. But I guess something can be said for the film not being a story about a rock musician's one-last-chance-at-stardom who is rescued from obscurity by a record company scout.

That Ricki sacrificed her life with a family for her music and lifestyle isn't as much a problem as her lack of remorse or regret for having done so.

I will give Diablo Cody credit for writing lead roles for woman. She tends to enjoy conceiving female train-wrecks who are their own worst enemy, which is fine, but other than her script for Young Adult, her characters and screenplays always seem half-written.

Demme, whose resume is filled with music-themed documentaries, can't seem to make the music in the film anything more than listenable.

Demme can't seem to tease out one decent performance from anyone in the cast. Even the Empress of Fine Acting (as she is regarded in the civilized world) can't do much more than affect an attitude. The Tea Party tattoo on her back is more fully nuanced than her character. We get to see Streep play a rock and roller and belt out a few rock classics but so what?

Ricki sacrifices so much in her life for her music but how does she feel about it? What is there about it that would make her essentially give up three children?

This is a movie where nothing much happens and the characters--one and all (save for the real-life musicians in the band)--are people I didn't care to know or want to know more. I can't think of one character I wouldn't want to push out of a plane, including Ricki.

In the final reckoning, the movie seems like an excuse for an aging actress to play an aging rock musician though here Streep plays one without much conviction or fiery spirit. Both Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart were better at playing rock and rollers in The Runaways. Stewart seemed more like Joan Jett than Joan Jett.

I'm glad the film is behind me. I hope to fully forget it before the onrush of better fall films. It shouldn't be too difficult. In fact, it may only take the weekend.