A mid-fifties Doug (James Gandolfini) sits at a poker table with a group of older regulars, talking cards and telling jokes. Doug tries to recall a punchline to a particularly filthy one before asking for help. “I heard it here” he says to no one’s recollection. Finally he’s able to piece together the bit, only to have the other players comment that it isn’t funny.It’s a remarkable scene not because the aging protagonist botches a joke they’ve probably all enjoyed in the past, but it subtlety establishes Doug as a member of a wealthy fraternity — Doug later says he broke even “give or take a thousand” — that has grown accustomed to the comfortable rituals of men past their prime. Doug also enjoys post-game waffles and an ongoing affair with the waitress who serves them.
The same is carefully set up for Lois (Melissa Leo), Doug’s agoraphobic wife who entertains the gossip of her visiting hairdresser and the reverend’s suggestions to return to church during his scheduled stop-in. Her Sundays are spent painting (indoors) instead, while Doug goes golfing.
A lesser screenwriter may have simply hacked together dialogue where the characters admit their weariness or tell one another they’ve lost the faith, but Hixon’s script deftly hints at the static state of the couple following the death of their teenage daughter Emily. In just a few short scenes, you already have a sense of who the Rileys are, how the tragedy has affected them, and how the introduction of Mallory (Kristen Stewart) will disrupt the routine.
At a plumbing convention in Savannah (this apparently changed to New Orleans in production), Doug escapes the shop talk and winds up a seedy strip club. There he meets a foul-mouthed stripper named Mallory, who offers the privacy of the champagne room (anything else is extra), though nothing sexual happens between them (ever). The encounter reminded me of the Natalie Portman/Clive Owen scene in Closer, and I suspect Stewart opted for the same scantily clad arrangement over any actual nudity.The Mallory part is unlike anything Stewart has ever played before, and not just the physical challenges of working the stripper pole. As a part-time prostitute, the character is open and bluntly honest about the sex trade she gleans rent from, which is a stretch from the grungy cuteness and lip-biting flirtations of Stewart’s earlier work. I initially felt she was miscast, but this and The Runaways are examples she is trying to shed her chaste Twilight image. Hopefully Stewart embraces the f-word slinging misfit from the script and the catalytic character isn’t reduced to a sleepy bore.
Doug spends a day with Mallory, who bears a resemblance to Emily, and on impulse begins to make changes to his life, including calling Lois and telling her he’ll be staying for a while. Soon he’s cleaning up Mallory (whose real name he learns later), teaching her, and helping her, while she unknowingly fills a hole left eight years ago by Emily’s car accident. “Money can’t buy happiness,” Doug tells her one night, almost fatherly. She replies, “Yeah, but it pays the rent until you cheer up.”
Spoilers:
The plot plays out as you might expect; the Rileys finally come to terms with the loss of their daughter while Mallory discovers what it’s like to be cared for. Actually, things come together a bit too easy in the third act, especially for Lois who overcomes agoraphobia for a country-wide car trip to find her husband living with a teenage prostitute.
The drama might have felt more overblown if not for the neatly-constructed character introductions, which later provide weight and the irrationality of emotional conflict to unrealistic circumstances. For a story as simple as a married couple helping a troubled teen, Hixon’s script is engaging due to the dynamic between Doug and Mallory.
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