The best romantic comedies (Pretty Woman, As Good As It Gets, Bull Durham, Knocked Up) often remind us that, not only do we need other people, but that they also better us. Miss Dial, David Steinberg's newest film, charmingly succeeds at doing the same. Steinberg, a master of raunchy, gross-out comedy (he wrote or co-wrote several of the American Pie films and the hilariously bawdy coming-of-age novel Last Stop This Town), has created a subtle, engaging, and relentlessly funny character study about the profitable, if painful, self-improvement occurring when the right person enters one's life.
Miss Dial is Erica (an outstanding Robinne Lee), a home-based consumer products customer service rep who (with a smiling, repressed contempt) fields calls from morons and weirdos befuddled by her company's usually self-explanatory products. After one moron too many, Erica takes a break from her caller queue and, attempting to call a friend, misdials an Afghanistan War vet in North Carolina. An engrossing conversation ensues, prompting Erica to keep dialing random numbers to talk to strangers, most of whom provide the honest, unscripted human contact she didn't know she needed. Her last "misdial" brings her to Kyle (an excellent Sam Jaeger), with whom she develops an increasingly romantic rapport. Kyle goads Erica, however charmingly, towards a self-understanding prompting reconsideration of her relationships, personal and professional.
Miss Dial also meditates upon what, as another reviewer observed, is perhaps the great irony of our age: technology has made us at once intimate and estranged. People increasingly prefer social networks, texts, and telephones to real, human contact. Resultantly, one may know a person's favorite books, music, and foods and not really know him or her. Couple that with the perma-smiling personae workplaces oblige employees to adopt (as Erica does with flagging success throughout the story) to handle a cretinous, consuming public and one realizes how we can interact with others constantly and yet learn nothing about them or ourselves.
Technically speaking, Steinberg's writing and direction are right on. His plotting is a textbook example of screenwriter William Goldman's demand: "Give the audience what they want, just not in the way they expect it." And the spare, split-screen rendering of the characters' phone conversations captures the sense of phony intimacy technology allows while focusing attention upon the actors' masterful performances.
Mr. Steinberg has done a mitzvah in creating Miss Dial. It deserves the widest possible audience.
Miss Dial is Erica (an outstanding Robinne Lee), a home-based consumer products customer service rep who (with a smiling, repressed contempt) fields calls from morons and weirdos befuddled by her company's usually self-explanatory products. After one moron too many, Erica takes a break from her caller queue and, attempting to call a friend, misdials an Afghanistan War vet in North Carolina. An engrossing conversation ensues, prompting Erica to keep dialing random numbers to talk to strangers, most of whom provide the honest, unscripted human contact she didn't know she needed. Her last "misdial" brings her to Kyle (an excellent Sam Jaeger), with whom she develops an increasingly romantic rapport. Kyle goads Erica, however charmingly, towards a self-understanding prompting reconsideration of her relationships, personal and professional.
Miss Dial also meditates upon what, as another reviewer observed, is perhaps the great irony of our age: technology has made us at once intimate and estranged. People increasingly prefer social networks, texts, and telephones to real, human contact. Resultantly, one may know a person's favorite books, music, and foods and not really know him or her. Couple that with the perma-smiling personae workplaces oblige employees to adopt (as Erica does with flagging success throughout the story) to handle a cretinous, consuming public and one realizes how we can interact with others constantly and yet learn nothing about them or ourselves.
Technically speaking, Steinberg's writing and direction are right on. His plotting is a textbook example of screenwriter William Goldman's demand: "Give the audience what they want, just not in the way they expect it." And the spare, split-screen rendering of the characters' phone conversations captures the sense of phony intimacy technology allows while focusing attention upon the actors' masterful performances.
Mr. Steinberg has done a mitzvah in creating Miss Dial. It deserves the widest possible audience.