Ricki and the Flash ***
Dir: Jonathan Demme.
With: Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline, Mamie Gummer, Rick Springfield. 101 mins.
Cert: 12A
Like those 80s
nostalgia gigs, this is something of an old pro’s show: Jonathan Demme
directing a lite-feminist Diablo Cody script about a gigging rocker (Meryl Streep)
recalled to Squaresville, Indianapolis to console her soon-to-be-divorced
daughter. The resultant pass-agg sniping suggests a sister-film to Demme’s
barbed Rachel Getting Married,
although Streep’s presence inevitably softens the edges: the ferociously
dishevelled offspring (Mamie Gummer, Streep’s actual daughter) is soon made
over, and the final act installs a jukebox of all-American hits where the plot
should be. Everybody’s basically jamming before the hugging starts, but –
thanks to smart timing, and the director’s gift for sprinkling spontaneity over
even humdrum interactions – getting there is no chore, and some fun, in an
AOR-ish way. Curious, though, to see seasoned rock chronicler Demme suddenly
going misty-eyed over Journey, Rick Springfield and Wang Chung: has he reasoned
that this – rather than his preferred Talking Heads and Robyn Hitchcock – is
just what plays in the heartlands?
Ricki and the Flash opens in cinemas nationwide today.
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