Dir. Marianne Palka, US, 2008, 86 mins
Cast: Marianne Palka, Jason Ritter
Review by Richard Mellor
Is dogged pursuit the true arbiter of love? I always thought that constantly chasing someone when they continually spurn you counted as stalking, but not so Jason Ritter's lead male in indie slow-mance Good Dick – his tack is to continually make advances on Marianne Palka's near-silent hermit, oblivious to a her many insults, shut doors and denials of reciprocation.
For Ritter, it's a case of love at first scene. After a dreamy driving intro, Palka's pretty and pretty-sulky 20-something returns one and rents another porno flick from the cosy LA video store in which he works. Despite failing to generate conversation, the besotted Polish immigrant – a portly blonde slacker – senses a spark and stealthily notes his crush's address from the store database.
Accompanied by soporific music – a constant feature – Ritter repairs to Palka's pad and proceeds to ingratiate himself into her life, with the aid of a fictional dead relative. Soon the pair are sharing her bed, apartment and adult movies, but harmonious they ain’t: when Ritter labels himself Palka's partner she laughs in his face and declares her revulsion. It's a little like Frankie & Johnny, only with a far more venomous rejection.
For all this clarity of refusal, Palka's film – she also writes, directs and produces – is appealingly ambiguous, right down to its chief protagonists going nameless. Living out of a car, Ritter's clerk is an unsettling character, relentlessly doting yet spookily adept at entering a vulnerable woman's life. For her part, we've no idea if Palka returns his feelings, or how she lives jobless in such a nice flat. Both have the shadowiest of skeletons in their padlocked closets.
It's as these mottled histories are slowly revealed that Palka's picture runs into trouble. Until now a dainty love story with a wicked tongue, Good Dick stumbles by trying to present its characters' most serious concerns with a similarly deft touch. Palka's lonely existence is explained away by a mysterious series of baby photographs and a pugnacious, silk-suited father (Tom Arnold). Ritter apparently once had a drug problem, once, sometime ... And that’s about all we get.
The same flippancy undermines the impact of any supporting players. When one of Ritter's geeky shopmates briefly bemoans a recent break-up, Palka seems to care not, and neither do we by consequence. The only meatiness comes from Charles Durning, and even his stunning cameo as a sagey old-timer imploring Ritter and co-workers to seize any chance of love, is simply an extension of the central narrative.
One subject definitely not undernourished is sex. Physical desires are treated with equanimity and obeisance: witness an unabashed Palka discussing masturbatory habits with her new roomie, or Ritter’s untimely premature ejaculation when poised for wholly significant coitus. Sex here is a vital cog in a modern romantic relationship, and a key concern for both these under-sated singletons.
Eventually, predictably – what would be the point otherwise? – and gradually Ritter breaks his goddess' resistance, convincing Palka to reveal more of her personality, and to learn more of his. It's a touching and atypical portrayal of love's arrival, but rarely a funny one: Palka's film lacks in wit, and the few skits – mainly japish moments from Ritter and his video shop colleagues - fail to amuse. Only its title raises a wry grin.
Good Dick does much better at being sentimental, though, and by dint of its unusual romance between unusual people, the story is appealingly twee and tender, even with one too many stares into the distance and soppy songs. Its outcome is sudden but never obvious, and its considered performances impressive yet restrained. Much like its protagonists then, Good Dick is by no means perfect, but well worth persevering with.
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