So … split personality disorder is now a nurture not a nature? Really? Geez Lou-eeze, science has taken a beating lately, hasn’t it? We’ve had four full years of Trump highlighted by his deadly refusal to accept pandemic realities interspersed with flat-Earthers, anti-vaxxers and QAnon all spouting unscientific nonsense and calling it truth. Where does this lead? I want to say “bad screenplays,” but I don’t think there’s a scientific connection there. You see, this would be the difference between causality and correlation; look it up if you’re unfamiliar. What I do know is –scientifically logical or not— we are in a very precedented time of bad science and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down; it’s even showing up in our art.
It would be easy to take this little science detour and proceed to rip apart a middling unscientific half-assed attempt at noir … so let’s do that.
Deadly Illusions is a film that makes you appreciate quality acting because when you don’t have it, your film just looks silly. I mean, imagine Primal Fear with, I dunno, Sylvester Stallone instead of Edward Norton. You’d laugh your ass off. You’d say, “OMG, is he actually trying to be … ? Yes, he is!” This is exactly what Act III of Deadly Illusions feels like. And it’s a shame because I nearly enjoyed Acts I & II. Well, “enjoyed” might be an exaggeration. I nearly tolerated Acts I & II.
Mary Morrison (Kristin Davis) is a retired author. Mystery/suspense is her genre, I think – one can only hope that her thriller writing is better than the thriller writing in this screenplay. She’s popular enough to scoff at a $1M payday, but *oops* husband Tom (Dermot Mulroney) sucks with both cash and telling the spouse he gambled away the nest egg. Oops. Good thing he’s an awesome lay. I’m not kidding; that’s part of the story.
Yes, yes. I should have known at this very moment that Deadly Illusions was going to SUCK. But then a plot bicycled up to the camera and, hey, whatchagonnado? Intent on the promised payday, Mary returns to work with one catch – her kids now need a full-time nanny. In bikes Grace (Greer Grammer) who has ridden straight out of a Laura Ashley catalog. Isn’t she just adorbs! Oh, and the kids love her, too.
And Mary starts having fantasies about her. Wait. Is this plot or not? Since when do you take the au pair
lingerie shopping? You know, if this is gonna turn into a porno, just go there already; this “feeling up the sitter” shit is equally as unrealistic as banging the pool boy. And this all occurs before the film gets silly.
On the one hand, I do want to applaud Deadly Illusions; the number of vehicles greenlit for mediocre fiftysomething women over any given year can be counted on exactly that one hand. On the other hand, this film was terrible. And not fun terrible like What Lies Below. Deadly Illusions is terrible to the point where you question why it was made … which should be never be a concern when you’ve deliberately championed a mediocre fiftysomething woman. Everybody who worked on this piece is guilty of bad art. And it’s a cynical guilt; you couldn’t possibly have seen the dailies in Act III and mistaken Deadly Illusions for a good film. There’s no possible way.
A novelist of advanced pedigree
Decides to share maternity
But her ridiculous trope
Makes me have to hope
Her fans are more forgiving than me
Rated R, 114 Minutes
Director: Anna Elizabeth James
Writer: Anna Elizabeth James
Genre: Oh, this is serious. (stifled laugh)
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: People who are so feminists, they feel empowered when women make crap, too
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: Intellectuals, nannies, misogynists, novelists, take your pick.
