The Weather Man: Mostly Cloudy with Spots of Sunshine

Settling into my comfortable stadium style seat, I was surprised to find the theater transformed into a virtual legion of geriatrics. There were old people to the left of me, old people to right of me, on top of me, below me--almost as if I had accidentally wandered into the media room of a local retirement home. Perhaps they were the dedicated Los Angeles chapter of the Michael Caine fan club; or perhaps, like myself, they had seen the theatrical preview for Paramount Picture's “The Weather Man,” and like myself, they were expecting a sweet story in which a failed father overcomes his impotence, eventually restoring happiness to his torn family: the kind of film that warms a frail autumn body--a film that leaves you limping out of the theater with a smile.

Not so. When the film was through and the lights slowly raised, the elderly hobbled one by one from their rows, each with a look of resignation drizzled across their faces. That's because “The Weather Man” really isn't about a man overcoming the miserable reality of his life. It's about a man becoming complacent in it.

Despite a lucrative job as a prominent Chicago weatherman, David Spritz's (Nicolas Cage) life is miserable. He's separated from his wife (Hope Davis), and he seems to be a constant disappointment to his terminally ill father (Michael Caine). David's daughter Shelly, 11, is an obese chain-smoker with a sailor's mouth to match. His son Michael, 15, finds himself mishandled by an overly "touchy" male-counselor. Not to mention that the Chicago public has taken to throwing fast food at the weatherman every chance they get. Dark clouds hover above his head as everything he attempts to correct crumbles at his feet. While David does undergo some minor changes for the better, these turns seem insignificant in comparison to the massive despair that drowns him throughout.

Now I get it: in real life the guy doesn't always get the girl. Lives and relationships rarely go from hell to happiness in the ninety-minute, traditional Hollywood fashion. Yet this movie doesn't do enough to move the man forward. Spritz goes from being a big loser throughout the film, and morphs into a slightly more self-confident loser by the climax. Look, it's understandable, even admirable, to see a movie without a fairy-tale ending. Yet Gore Verbinski’s film, like Cage's character, doesn't try hard enough to succeed. For one, it overuses sexual vulgarity to cover up a lack of comedy. When the dialogue lacks movement obscenity is tossed in for laughs, and plot holes are left wide-open. After Spritz discovers that his eleven-year-old daughter smokes, the issue is never again addressed.

But for all the film's thunderstorms, there are a few rare spots of sunshine when David Spritz blossoms into the father the audience wants him to be: a beautiful scene shopping with his daughter in New York, a rough confrontation with his son's attacker, and a tender moment with his dying father. It is in scenes like these that Cage's acting talent shines through. But these episodes fall short, comprising only moments in a picture that is more dark than sunny; a film that's well-made, well-acted, but in the end just doesn't add up.

---Devon Pollard

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