As a fan of such films as Personal Velocity and The Private Lives of Pippa Lee, I looked forward to the latest work by writer-director Rebecca Miller. But I can only describe She Came to Me as odd. A heavy-handed farce, it is acted to perfection by Peter Dinklage, Anne Hathaway and Marisa Tomei but they can’t forge this collection of peculiarities into a cohesive whole.
Dinklage plays a very dour though respected composer of operas. His stylish wife (Hathaway) is a therapist with more than a touch of OCD. Faced with writer’s block, Dinklage takes his dog for a walk in Manhattan and winds up in a bar where a sexy woman finds him amenable to her rather brazen come-on. Imagine her surprise (and ours) when their sexual encounter winds up as the libretto for his latest opera! There is a secondary storyline involving the leading couple’s biracial teenage son who is smitten with the daughter of a woman Hathaway has just hired as a housecleaner.
Only a cast this appealing could put over such ridiculous fodder, and She Came to Me is nothing if not watchable. But it bends itself into a pretzel trying to be quirky and the strain is all too apparent. I’m not giving up on Miller; everyone is entitled to a misfire now and then and she is too talented to be taken for granted.
