Here's a tough sell for a comedy, even a dark one: an abusive father gets diagnosed with dementia and his adult siblings find themselves forced to take care of him. That's the bold task director and screenwriter Tamara Jenkins sets for herself with The Savages. Nursing homes, loss of memory, bowel control, the death of a parent: this is patently unfunny stuff.
Jenkins, however, scored two of America's best actors to embody her cantankerous savages: Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman. Much to her credit, she also penned many excellent jokes: my favorite moment happens when older brother Jon (Hoffman) attempts to calm down little sister Wendy (Linney): "We're not in a Sam Shepherd play." There are other terrific zingers, including a laugh-provoking Unibomber reference and elderly pet jokes. Nevertheless, this well intentioned project from the talented director of The Slums of Beverly Hills falls horribly flat.
The family surname, of course, is meant to be a clue into who we are dealing with, but no one is or becomes particularly sympathetic in The Savages. This brother and sister duo, bitter and unhappy, are barely able to take care of themselves, let alone handle a crisis. Wendy, a failed playwright who temps at various office jobs, is a compulsive liar. Jon allows his long term Polish lover to be deported because of his fear of commitment. Dying Dad (Philip Bosco) was an atrocious parent; all we see on the screen is the present day parent: an unlikeable, demented old man.
From the onset, Wendy and Jon squabble, but strangely enough, the fighting never gets quite savage enough. This is not a Sam Shepherd play; it feels more like HBO. Dad doesn't make it through the film, but the Savage siblings are able to patch up their differences with relative ease. To top it off, Jenkins provides them with an unearned and unconvincing epilogue: a happy ending.
