Harry here... Oddly, this really in no way, shape or form, could this "review" be considered a review... Unless you've seen MELVIN GOES TO DINNER, in which case... this piece sums up, without spoiling an iota of the film, the feeling you'll get while watching the film. The characters at the "Dinner" you want to be with, you are so intimately let into their world, that you feel dishonest for sitting quietly in the theater and not being able to tell them your story back. There are moments, that as you sit there, you'll feel this uncontrollable urge to want to leap in with a story of your own... D-Cubed is essentially doing that right now. Bob Odenkirk's direction is supreme and Michael Blieden's screenplay is exquisite. If you get a chance to see this film, it will be one of the best films you'll get to see this year. Unfortunately it is without a distributor at the moment (at least, last I heard) but god willing... that gross mistake will be cured, because this is a film that commands your attention and rewards you throughout. Here's the non-review....
Melvin Goes To Dinner (Phoenix Film Festival, Sunday showing, 5 o'clock)
I’m going to review a film called Melvin Goes To Dinner, although I’m not exactly sure where the review will appear in this story. To be a little more precise, I’m going to tell you (the collective Reader) about my evening, which may or may not include the review. So, let’s make it snazzy.
I usually sit alone in movie theaters. Am I anti-social? Most of the time, no. However, I do tend to avoid potentially awkward situations. It’s just the way I function. I remember I was attempting to amuse myself, rather unsuccessfully, with a copy of Franny and Zooey while waiting for the show to begin. A woman (early forties, brown hair, tan skin, pink top, matching thong, jean bottoms) sat down beside me, directly beside me. I assumed she was waiting for a friend, lover, or husband to arrive. Perhaps all three will show up sooner or later, I thought. We sat in silence. I wondered if I should have said something, a customary ‘Hello’ perhaps. I remained silent, though, and waited. Waited. Waited. Waited. Nothing. No friend, no lover, no husband (or wife, for that matter). Someone watching us would have assumed we were together. She sat close to me, a little more on my seat than on hers, and I have to admit, I let my imagination go. Is she a prostitute? I wondered. No, it’s highly unlikely, at least. Is she married? Yes, actually, she is. Is she hitting on me? The ring on her finger would indicate a response in the negative. What should I do? Shit, she’s looking at me. Shit, she’s adjusting herself in her seat. Our arms are touching. Her hand is near mine. I’m so hard right now. I want to have an affair. I need to have an affair with this woman. If there’s one thing I need to do before I die, it’s have an affair with this woman. Damn, she’s sexy. (End internal monologue.) We sat this way for the entire duration of the film – close, intimate, sexual (repressed, perhaps, but sexual nonetheless). The tension – saturated, overwhelming – nearly killed me. I wanted to grab her hand, rub her thigh, place my hand between her legs, remove her clothes and fuck her, silently, in the darkness. I don’t suppose she would have stopped me.
As for the film, well, it felt like coming home, as Shawn Colvin might put it. ‘It feels like now, and it feels always, and it feels like coming home.’ This film felt familiar. It felt warm and gooey, like chocolate chip cookies sans the chocolate chip cookie part. I wanted the night to last indefinitely. The film was honest, and that certainly qualifies it in my book.
If you decide to print this, you may call me D Cubed
