Based on personal tragedy experienced by writer-director Brad Silberling, Moonlight Mile deals with the grimness of unjust loss in an unusually lighthearted manner, yet never makes grieving look like jolly fun. The comedy isn’t used as relief from depressing situations, but as a way of dealing with them. You can even say the film isn’t about loss, but about self-discovery in all its ironic twists. In that sense, Mile resembles The Graduate more than In the Bedroom. But for all its merits, originality and tenderness, Moonlight Mile’s final 30-minutes become so muddled in abrupt sentimentalism, that I couldn’t help but feel somewhat betrayed. And worst of all, it comes hurling-out in an unexpected burst of mumbling emotions that are as manipulating as supermarket coupons. For the first hour-plus, you’ll wonder why Disney’s Touchstone studio wanted to release such an odd and quietly moving film, but by the end you’ll wonder how could they refuse it.

Silberling based the naive and gentle Joe Nast (played by Jake Gyllenhaal), oddly enough, on himself. Cameron Crowe did the same with Almost Famous’ quirky 15-year old rock journalist, William Miller. Like Joe, the filmmaker’s fiancé was murdered days before the two were to be wed. Also like Joe, Silberling had a close relationship with his girlfriend's parents after her death. In Moonlight Mile, our young protagonist stays to live with Ben and JoJo Floss (Susan Sarandon and Dustin Hoffman, respectively) after his fiancé’s funeral; serving as a substitute for the deceased Diane, who was shot in some local diner by a waitress’ deranged husband.

It’s the uncommon predicament Joe is in, of having to play surrogate son to mourning parents, that spreads rays of originality throughout and allows for further complications; the biggest being an interest in beautiful Post Office employee Bertie Knox (Ellen Pompeo). Mile poses questions such as, "What are the Floss’ stance on their would-be son-in-law’s dating privileges". Others include characters constantly asking Joe “What will you do now”? And as with any burdened young man, especially during the early 70’s, Joe has no clue how to approach his future.

Especially touching is the instant connection between Joe and Bertie, who with an MIA boyfriend in Vietnam, relates to her newfound friend’s stirring emotions. When the two engage in a beautifully lit slowdance to the Rolling Stones’ Moonlight Mile, it’s almost like watching a couple falling in love. While some of their relationship is devalued by the final sappy scenes, actors Gyllenhaal and Pompeo both look so wounded and bewildered, we feel they deserve each other no matter how recent death struck their loved ones.  

Though the film focuses mainly on the bereaved groom-to-be, Ben and JoJo too are interesting characters. They cope with grief using an unconventional, though slightly exaggerated method. Their playful demeanor is a stretch, and if it weren’t for Hoffman and Sarandon’s commitment to the roles, it’d feel pretty tacky. Not that some scenes aren’t, such as when JoJo turns on the radio, blaring screechy rock n’ roll, during the ride to her daughter’s funeral. But the early emotional scenes, where tears flow in a much steadier stream than the aforementioned final half-hour, give way for decent balance. 

It’s reassuring to know Gyllenhaal can still deliver an effective, semi-sedated performance after playing the role of schizophrenic teenage weirdo in both Donnie Darko and The Good Girl. The shy role of Joe Nast suits the 22-year old actor, who remains intriguing even with his character’s minimal amount of dialogue. Jake holds his own well against veterans like Hoffman, whose fatherly character is subject to an unnecessary public outburst where he shouts for the nearby diner, the one his daughter was murdered in, to replace its bullet-riddled window.

With a relatively small budget of $20-million, Moonlight Mile is handsomely shot in widescreen by DP Phedon Papamichael, who vividly capturrs the snowy chill of a Massachusetts winter, not to mention the dark emptiness of the Floss’ suburban house. Although tunes by David Bowie and Van Morrison remind us of the period we’re in, extract the music and Vietnam references and the year might as well be 2002. The wardrobes aren’t drastically different from modern times, but certainly the budget set many limitations.

GRADE: B-

-Copyright 2002 by Shaun Sages


 

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