The Next Best Thing

Note to readers: this review contains spoilers. While I do not believe the revelation of certain plot points will in any way compromise the viewing experience, those who wish to see The Next Best Thing without having a previous, general knowledge of plot developments would do well to stop reading now and return after they have seen the film.

Despite the presence of Madonna, who is not going to win many Best Actress awards, The Next Best Thing is a pleasant surprise. The film has far more dramatic heft than one might expect from what is being billed as a lightweight romantic comedy. In fact, excepting the upbeat conclusion, the movie's final third is bleak, with the protagonist being (figuratively) kicked in the stomach on more than one occasion. Those on the lookout for something breezy and brainless may find themselves in over their heads with The Next Best Thing.

According to rumors, the movie did not have the happiest shoot. Lead actor Rupert Everett apparently did extensive re-writes to Thomas Ropelweski's script and there was some tension between veteran director John Schlesinger (Midnight Cowboy, Cold Comfort Farm) and his cast (although not between Everett and Madonna, who are good friends). Ultimately, none of this matters, since it doesn't come across in what shows up on screen. In its final incarnation, The Next Best Thing represents a showcase for the underrated Everett, whose leading-man charisma and good looks shine as brightly here as they did in My Best Friend's Wedding (which he stole from Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz) and An Ideal Husband.

Everett may represent the real talent, playing gay gardener Robert, but Madonna has the bigger reputation and the better known name. Her role is as Abbie, a heterosexual woman who, upon entering her 40s, hears her biological clock ticking. It's a part that the celebrated single mom can relate to, but that doesn't mean she is the best suited actress to take it on. While her physical appearance is right and she's effective at non-verbal emoting, she has trouble with dialogue. Her delivery is often stilted and flat. To be fair, she is much better here than in many of her early forays into this craft (even she admits she was awful in Who's That Girl?), but no one will be calling for her to be nominated for an Oscar in a year's time. It's worth puzzling how much better this already-worthwhile film could have been with a stronger female lead.

The Next Best Thing follows the classic three-act structure to a "T". The first part, from which most of the preview and TV ad clips have been culled, is fairly insubstantial and places a heavy accent on comedy. Robert and Abbie are best friends, and both are recovering from relationships that ended badly. They do everything together, and, one fourth of July when they both have too much to drink, they have sex. Several weeks later, Abbie learns that she's pregnant, and they decide to live together and raise their child, although without the benefit of marriage.

The second act, which occurs six years later, accomplishes the transition from frothy comedy to more serious drama. Robert and Abbie seem to have the perfect home life until Ben (Benjamin Bratt, seeking movie stardom after giving up the TV series "Law and Order") comes along. He's sexy and charming, and Abbie falls for him. Suddenly, Robert begins to fear that the happy twosome, who are beginning to talk about marriage and moving to the East Coast, might take young Sam (Malcolm Stumpf) away from him.

The third act showcases Robert and gives Everett the opportunity to exhibit his dramatic range. The custody battle for Sam turns into a grueling affair, and there's not much to laugh at during this portion of the film. Schlesinger effectively balances Abbie's rights and responsibilities against Robert's, and adds a couple of unexpected (but not overly melodramatic) twists. Since we identify most closely with Robert, we feel his growing sense of pain and desperation, but Schlesinger refuses to demonize any of the characters, and that quality makes the ending more credible and less tacked on than it might otherwise seem to be.

Ultimately, the film works because Schlesinger handles the comedy-to-drama transition with skill. Many movies that attempt this kind of approach stumble and leave the audience unsettled and dissatisfied. And, when events could easily have descended into manipulative melodrama, Schlesinger's relatively low-key approach keeps The Next Best Thing from becoming overwrought. Equal credit must be given to Everett, who finds the perfect acting tone - raw enough to convey pain but not over-the-top. The film's last third contains some powerful emotional moments, but also raises questions about the fundamental equity of the American legal landscape when it comes to parents' rights. (Not that this is the first forum to raise these questions.) What does it mean to be a mother or father? Does sexual identity play a role in an individual's ability to fulfill his/her responsibilities as a parent? How important is the biological element? Are genetic considerations more important than demonstrated love and commitment? And has the system reduced everything to an overly simplistic formula that fails to take into account intangibles? The Next Best Thing is a fine movie that plumbs issues like these more deeply than one might suspect based on the advance publicity. It deserves to be seen for what it is, not for what Paramount is marketing it as.

© 2000 James Berardinelli