Liam Neeson is a man in the throes of typecasting. Upcoming projects for the 67-year-old Northern Irish actor include Marlowe (he plays a P.I.), Charlie Johnson in the Flames (vengeful journalist), The Ice Road (trucker recusing trapped miners), Honest Thief (bank robber fighting corrupt Feds) and The Marksman (just guess).
Look back and it’s more of the same – Cold Pursuit, Widows, The Commuter and a bunch of Taken s and Taken -inspired thrillers.
But here and now there’s a sweet spot to remind us that Neeson doesn’t have to be battling evil or carrying a gun in order to act, and act beautifully. Though it probably doesn’t hurt that in Ordinary Love he gets to perform opposite fellow Oscar nominee Lesley Manville, who hasn’t been typecast so much as underutilized on the big screen of late.
They’re smooth enough not to sting, sharp enough to still strike sparks.
The two play Joan and Tom, a married couple living a quiet life in the shadow of a tragedy. They lost a daughter about 10 years ago, and while that’s long enough for the pain to have dulled, it never goes away.
Still, they get on well enough, taking daily walks together and gently arguing with each other about silly things. They have distinct personalities – he lighthearted and sardonic, she practical and pragmatic – but they’ve spent enough time together that the sharp edges have worn down perfectly. They’re smooth enough not to sting, sharp enough to still strike sparks. We should all be so lucky with our longtime partners.
I’d gladly watch Lesley and Liam make tea and watch telly for 90 minutes, but playwright-turned-screenwriter Owen McCafferty has a dramatic agenda, which is fair enough. Drawing from his own life (and that of his wife), he starts with a lump. Joan, in the shower, feels one in her breast, and duly goes to the doctor for tests. It’s cancer.
We follow the couple through the maze that is treatment – surgery, chemo (with its own hellish sub-levels of nausea and hair loss), then mastectomy and reconstruction. Each character has highs and lows. He feels useless, unable to take away her pain; she at one point becomes so consumed by it that all she can do is lash out.
Co-directors Lisa Barros D’Sa and Glenn Leyburn are also married, and they make some very specific choices about the focus of this story. Scenes in hospital stress the depersonalization of cancer treatment. Doctors and nurses are seldom seen, and never central to the scene; yes, they are heroes, but this isn’t their movie.
Instead, Joan and Tom spend their time talking with one another, or with other patients. In a waiting room they spot a man who used to teach their daughter. They don’t remember him very fondly, but Joan goes to say hello anyway. It turns out he’s terminal, and their subsequent conversations provide a perspective even the well-meaning Tom can’t muster.
The film’s crafty title demands a bit of reflection. Is it a story of mere ordinary love, or does Joan and Tom’s cross into something more? It’s certainly an extraordinary bit of filmmaking. And if you don’t agree, just wait – the Neeson you’re used to will soon be back, fighting injustice with the barrel of a gun and a swing of his fists. But for now, it’s nice to remember that his particular set of skills – and Manville’s too – include some powerful acting chops.
Ordinary Love opens Feb. 21 in Toronto and throughout Quebec; Feb. 28 in London and Ottawa; March 6 in Waterloo, Saskatoon and Regina; March 13 in Hamilton; and March 20 in Sudbury.
4 stars out of 5
Copyright Postmedia Network Inc., 2020
