Cast: Natasha Lyonne, Alan Arkin, Marisa Tomei, Kevin Corrigan, Eli Marienthal, David Krumholtz,
Jessica Walter, Carl Reiner, Rita Moreno
Director: Tamara Jenkins
Producers: Michael Nozik, Stan Wlodkowski
Screenplay: Tamara Jenkins
Cinematography: Tom Richmond
Music: Rolfe Kent
U.S. Distributor: Fox Searchlight
The coming-of-age tale is a motion picture staple. From Truffaut's The 400 Blows to more recent fare like Steven Soderbergh's King of the Hill, it's possible to find a worthwhile member of the genre in almost every language and from every decade, because, if there's one fact of life that's universal, it's that every child must eventually become an adult. For the most part, however, coming-of-age movies are about the transition from boyhood to manhood. Until recently, the female side has been largely neglected. However, with the increasing number of women making their mark in the film industry, that is changing. 1998 has already seen two solid girls' entries: Susan Skoog's Whatever and Tamara Jenkins' Slums of Beverly Hills.
While the films are not radically different, they approach a similar subject from dissimilar perspectives. Whatever is about the struggles of a New Jersey teen to come to grips with her sexuality and understand who she really is. Slums of Beverly Hills tells the same basic story for a West Coast girl. Both movies have well-defined protagonists facing similar emotional turmoil. The time frames are identical (give or take a few years) – Whatever transpires in 1980; Slums takes place four years earlier – but the tone is not. Skoog's movie is a straight, often-bleak drama. Jenkins', on the other hand, leavens the serious story with frequent moments of effective comedy. The director conveys her affection for these characters by getting audiences to laugh with them, not at them.
Our guide through the Slums of Beverly Hills is Vivian Abramowitz, who is played by Natasha Lyonne (Everyone Says I Love You) in a star-making performance. Lyonne makes Vivian instantly likable. She's a tough-talking girl whose uncertainty about her own sexuality and her developing body reveals an inner innocence and vulnerability. Vivian is stacked (unlike Lyonne, who had to wear prosthetic breasts to fill out her wardrobe), as her older brother delights in pointing out, but she's not sure whether she wants the breasts. Her uncertain lifestyle doesn't make it easy to deal with the effects of hormones racing out of control. Her father and mother are divorced, and she lives with her dad, Murray (Alan Arkin), and her two male siblings. Consequently, there is no woman around to shepherd her through experiences like her first period. So, when her perpetually-stoned cousin, Rita (the always- energetic Marisa Tomei), comes to stay, Vivian is suddenly on the fast track to learning about sex.
The Abramowitzes are nomads. They don't have much money, so they move from cheap apartment to cheap apartment, often skipping out in the middle of the night to avoid paying the rent. They stay just within the limits of Beverly Hills because of the schools. As Murray states, "Furniture is temporary, education is forever." When Rita comes to live with them, however, her rich father (Carl Reiner) pays Murray enough money that he and his family can afford to move into a ritzy place. While there, Vivian meets and falls for a gentle-but-strange neighbor, Eliot (Kevin Corrigan), who is fixated with Charles Manson.
Slums of Beverly Hills is by turns funny and poignant, and it effectively expresses the various traumas of young womanhood. However, although Vivian is at the center of Jenkins' movie, the other characters are not ignored. Murray in particular is fleshed out, due in no small part to the contribution of veteran actor Arkin, who injects the right amount of wit into an otherwise straight performance. Murray is not the perfect father, but he loves his children and is trying to provide the best life he can for them. He is frightened of the future and of the approach of old age, as is shown in one of the film's most memorable sequences – a tear-filled exchange between Murray and Rita with Vivian looking on.
Many times, films that combine comedy and drama do so in an uncomfortable and unwieldy manner. In Slums of Beverly Hills, the approach is natural and satisfying. From the outrageous (a "vibrator dance" shared by Vivian and Rita -- watch for Murray's reaction) to the moving (Murray's realization of how little the future holds for him), Slums of Beverly Hills covers a lot of territory without ever losing its sense of humor or its sense of character. The ending (primarily the airport scene) and a subplot about plastic surgery are a little weak, but they doesn't unduly damage an otherwise fine film.
First-time writer/director Jenkins has admitted in interviews that Slums of Beverly Hills contains a high quotient of autobiographical material. The truth of this shows in the insight she brings to Vivian's experiences. The character's struggles with the pitfalls of adolescent development may be particular to women, but many of the emotional ramifications will strike a chord of familiarity for men, as well. It's the differences in addition to the similarities that make all coming-of-age stories compelling to members of both sexes, and Slums of Beverly Hills is an example of how engaging one such tale can be.
© 1998 James Berardinelli