The Lake House

Rating

Director

Alejandro Agresti

Screenplay

David Auburn (Screenplay: Siworae by Eun-Jeong Kim, Ji-na Yeo)

Length

105 min.

Starring

Keanu Reeves, Sandra Bullock, Shohreh Aghdashloo, Christopher Plummer, Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Willeke van Ammelrooy, Dylan Walsh, Lynn Collins

MPAA Rating

PG (For some language and a disturbing image)

Review

Long distance relationships are growing in popularity and durability, most of them spawning through online dating services. Hollywood takes this idea one step further in its adaptation of a Korean film. They call it The Lake House.

The house is a representative metaphor for the lives of the people who inhabit it. Simon Wyler (Christopher Plummer) was an architect of some prominence, having designed some of the city’s most notable structures. One of his creations is a house on a lake near Chicago. Its walls are glass so that the entire world can see that the owner has nothing to hide. However, the house is just a shell, an empty husk that contains a living, breathing soul. It is like its owners.

As Wyler’s son Alex (Keanu Reeves) explains, the house isn’t complete. It approaches nature but excludes it, too. While the tree that grows up through the house embodies its touch with nature, the watery surface below cannot even touch the house, keeping it aloof. He believes his father should have added stairs down to the water’s edge from the back of the house giving it a way to connect with the outside world. That’s also the way he feels about his father who, since his wife and mother and their two children died, has distanced himself emotionally from his family.

Moving into the house is a young doctor who needs an escape from the constant reminder of death around her. Kate Forster (Sandra Bullock) spends much time in the house to get back to herself after long bouts with the sick and dying in the hospital. It gives her the piece of mind to keep going. Over time, she realizes she has much more to do and abandons the house for a new owner. She leaves a letter in the mailbox to the next tenant to tell a little of the property and how it was before she arrived.

Before she can leave, the flag denoting mail pick up and delivery mysteriously shifts. Inside now is a letter from another occupant. Curious about her new pen pal, they discuss each other and soon come to realize they are living two years apart. A fact that, after an initial shock, intrigues them both. The other correspondent is the house’s previous inhabitant Alex.

Through a myriad of intriguing voiceovers, the letters slowly reveal information about these two people. Information that they almost feel safe in revealing since it seems impossible for them to meet. This is one of The Lake House‘s better conventions. We believe that love can blossom between these two people and it does. However, that’s where the interesting parts of the movie conclude.

We’re left frequently with the notion that there’s going to be a big “reveal” as they call it in the magic business. We know that something separates the two and brings them back together. It’s the way these films work. However, it’s not until the viewer reaches the denouement that one realizes how contrived the entire thing has been. In one fell stroke, the film goes from lovable and interesting to problematic and disappointing. Suffice it to say that, without revealing the actual event, there is a significant temporal paradox that cripples the film.

Perhaps the undeniably short feature (just barely over an hour and a half) could have used some extra writing in the end. There are a few interesting plot devices that could have been employed to fix the anomalies but it appears that either the screenwriter (Proof playwright David Auburn) or the originators of the original Korean film Siworae either failed to catch their disconnect or intentionally left it in. Either way, it ruins a perfectly capable film.

The blame can also be squarely placed on director Alejandro Agresti’s shoulders. The director is responsible for where the film goes and is responsible to the audience not just to faithfully tell the story but also to watch for such issues and correct them before they run rampant over the feature. He doesn’t succeed. Nor does he succeed on coaxing more than merely passable performances from his stars.

Reeves is the distance character actor. He plays men who can’t grip reality with both hands well. Much like his character in The Matrix, he must come to terms with his environment and allow it to take him over. He needs to breathe it in and live it. This is precisely what his character is supposed to do. The problem is that Reeves has issues creating depth with his characters. While there are sparks of vitality in his performance, he ultimately fails to capture any sort of believable growth.

The same issue befalls long-time thespian Plummer. His characters have become increasingly glum and full of themselves. It’s either that Plummer has fallen into a routine with the same character or has begun playing himself.

On the other hand, Bullock creates a warm and compassionate character. She’s funny, smart and genuinely capable. She provides the emotional heft the film desperately lacks. Unfortunately, the chemistry she shares with Reeves is non-existent. It’s hard to believe these two are meant to be together when they are actually together. When they’re apart, the belief is simple.

The Lake House succeeds and fails in nearly equal measure. I can forgive Reeves’ performance issues. I can even forgive the often slow pace. I cannot forgive the dreadful and irresponsible paradox created to tie up all the loose ends. It’s a convention of science fiction films and it rarely works there (see Star Trek: First Contact for one of film history’s few capable time-hopping stories), so it’s no surprise that it doesn’t happen well here. Either way, The Lake House is a movie that can be enjoyed only if you can sustain enough disbelief even through the cataclysmic conclusion.

Review Written

July 25, 2006