I don't doubt Julia Sweeney's sincerity for one single moment. Her heart-wrenching experiences as care-taker to her dying brother, the life-reversal of having her parents for house guests, and her own harrowing diagnosis of cancer are honestly related and clearly presented.
So why is this one of the lamest films of all time? Why was this material, suitable for a small theatrical or club venue or maybe even a TV special, feted royally with a huge Broadway production and this subsequent feature film? The answer can only be (sorry to say) that the painful reality of the "C" word intimidated everyone who encountered it. Nobody could bear to say "No!" to Sweeney - let alone "Ha!"
After the Broadway production bombed in a few short performances, why didn't anyone reconsider this ill-conceived movie? Although Sweeney is a sweet and endearing presence, her talents are stretched to the breaking point here. Her considered insights into her experiences are far from revelatory and her overall shaping of this long monologue is uneven at best. Sweeney (whose previous film IT'S PAT was based on a Saturday Night Live sketch considered the new HEAVEN'S GATE)is just not up to carrying a full length one-woman feature on her own.
That reluctantly said, the direction and design of this film is where the pic is at it's most banal. A cheesy off-Broadway set is clearly a left-over from her stage presentation and isn't needed or utilized to any advantage. In fact, it distracts more often than not.
Direction (of Sweeney and the cameras) is non-existent and an idiotic laugh track feels like it was dubbed in as an after-thought. Even the canned audience sounds afraid to laugh to heartily at the delicate subject matter. No matter, however, because we never see the audience - we only hear their tentative and distant titters. One meager camera move involves panning behind another camera! What is this supposed to prove? It only reminds us that we are watching a film and takes us momentarily away from Sweeney's moving story. Inexplicably, our star opens this 86 minute film by turning her back to us to take a drink of water.
As proof positive that (in lieu of no direction) simple is best, Sweeney is at her most powerful and poignant when looking directly into the camera - which, unfortunately, she rarely does. She seems unfocused and searching for some far off point beyond the camera's realm.
Presenting a stage monologue on film is not an impossible task. Screen Spalding Gray's MONSTER IN A BOX, SWIMMING TO CAMBODIA or any of his other stage to screen monodrama transfers. Someone should have told Sweeney and company to do the same. Then God might have said a little more than the ambiguous "ha".
So why is this one of the lamest films of all time? Why was this material, suitable for a small theatrical or club venue or maybe even a TV special, feted royally with a huge Broadway production and this subsequent feature film? The answer can only be (sorry to say) that the painful reality of the "C" word intimidated everyone who encountered it. Nobody could bear to say "No!" to Sweeney - let alone "Ha!"
After the Broadway production bombed in a few short performances, why didn't anyone reconsider this ill-conceived movie? Although Sweeney is a sweet and endearing presence, her talents are stretched to the breaking point here. Her considered insights into her experiences are far from revelatory and her overall shaping of this long monologue is uneven at best. Sweeney (whose previous film IT'S PAT was based on a Saturday Night Live sketch considered the new HEAVEN'S GATE)is just not up to carrying a full length one-woman feature on her own.
That reluctantly said, the direction and design of this film is where the pic is at it's most banal. A cheesy off-Broadway set is clearly a left-over from her stage presentation and isn't needed or utilized to any advantage. In fact, it distracts more often than not.
Direction (of Sweeney and the cameras) is non-existent and an idiotic laugh track feels like it was dubbed in as an after-thought. Even the canned audience sounds afraid to laugh to heartily at the delicate subject matter. No matter, however, because we never see the audience - we only hear their tentative and distant titters. One meager camera move involves panning behind another camera! What is this supposed to prove? It only reminds us that we are watching a film and takes us momentarily away from Sweeney's moving story. Inexplicably, our star opens this 86 minute film by turning her back to us to take a drink of water.
As proof positive that (in lieu of no direction) simple is best, Sweeney is at her most powerful and poignant when looking directly into the camera - which, unfortunately, she rarely does. She seems unfocused and searching for some far off point beyond the camera's realm.
Presenting a stage monologue on film is not an impossible task. Screen Spalding Gray's MONSTER IN A BOX, SWIMMING TO CAMBODIA or any of his other stage to screen monodrama transfers. Someone should have told Sweeney and company to do the same. Then God might have said a little more than the ambiguous "ha".