I remember seeing a Helmut Newton photograph of Sigourney Weaver that seemed to sum up everything that was fascinating about the actress. In typical Newton style the pic was heavily stylised in its lighting and themes, but importantly it tapped into Weaver’s charged sexuality and natural charisma.
In recent years she’s been on the verge of becoming a forgotten artefact, but it’s hard to think of a modern female performer who could pack as much presence. It made Weaver a natural choice for the career-defining role of Ripley in “Alien,” and it’s perhaps an ability to outdo the presence of her male counterparts that’s left her marginalised figure in new millennium Hollywood.
Still, known for her stridently private nature, Weaver’s lack of work in modern American cinema could just as easily be of her own choice. Either way, it’s fantastic to see her back in business with “The Girl in the Park,” even if the film itself is a sub par and slightly anaemic effort.
Weaver plays Julia, a socially isolated woman still haunted by the disappearance of her daughter, Maggie, from Central Park sixteen years ago. Julia now lives a solitary and vanilla existence working for a corporate bank, having forsaken a promising career as a jazz singer in the turmoil created by the tragedy. Unfortunately, Julia’s self-imposed isolation has also driven a wedge between her and her son, Chris (Alessandro Nivola), who is struggling to revive their relationship in the months before he marries Celeste (Keri Russell).
But when the broken mother encounters a troubled, enigmatic young woman, Louise (Kate Bosworth), the two begin a mutually dependent friendship before Julia eventually takes the young drifter in. As their bond deepens, Julia’s funk seems to leaven, but potential complications arise when she starts to believe that Louise could actually be her long-lost Maggie.
There are elements of emotional drama and psychological thriller here, but the big problem with “The Girl in the Park” is the fact famed playwright but first time director and second time screenwriter, David Auburn, doesn’t know what he wants this film to be.
The beats are too spare and disjointed for it to be a thriller, and the emotion too flat for things to work as a drama. Julia’s obsessive behaviour often gives proceedings an engaging uneasiness, but there’s little payoff on offer for the tension built. Character wise, there’s a set of emotionally effective scenes, but for every one that nails it, there’s another that comes across as histrionic.
Auburn’s approach also has the effect of slowly sinking Louise’s character. Bosworth is a charming performer, but in the service of narrative her streetwise drifter’s origins need to be kept in the dark and it places too many improbabilities on the connection with Julia, no matter how whacked out the older woman might be.
The film sits a little better when dealing with the relationship between Julia and Chris, strained family ties being right up Auburn’s alley. Nivola is skilled at nailing the right emotion between frustration and worry, and handles well his scenes with Weaver, an actress he probably discussed in the schoolyard after slumber party viewings of “Aliens.”
And it’s Weaver who really dominates large parts of “The Girl in the Park,” making the most out of Julia even though her character remains a touch underwritten. It’s the skill to turn a scene on a dime through underplayed emotion that impresses, the actress often emoting through either the slightest of gestures, or even just a quick glance from her heavy, dark, soulful eyes. It’s impressive stuff, and Weaver navigates Julia skilfully through some of the screenplay’s more ludicrous ticks, making “The Girl in the Park” much stronger than it perhaps has any right to be.
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