Funniest relationship movie of the new millennium

Rating: 9/10 (3 November 2003)

Okay, I know more about movies than I do relationships, but if the latter are anywhere near as good as cracked up to be, "High Fidelity" would be a killer representation of the highs and lows of commitment, love, and tenderness circa the turn of the century. And it is. So there.
This movie could have been a trap so easily. Self-absorbed Gen X losers whine about losing their perfectly toned girlfriends because they can't focus on how good they have it as they lounge on their Ikea sofas wired to their Bang & Olafson stereos smoking unfiltered Camels. Boo-hoo. But the central character rivets you in, sad-eyed and begging for your sympathy. John Cusack shows himself to have evolved into quite a professional actor, moving beyond the pleasing if callow roles of his youth with a performance that makes great use of his expressive eyes and his spot-on phrasing. The way he answers the phone the first time Laura calls his character Rob at Championship Vinyl, with the start, the stop, the door close, the pause for a puff of his cigarette, and then his matter-of-fact hello, without seeming to miss a beat. Very surface, yes, but in a practiced, disarming way that makes you feel left in, not out. He shines like that throughout; never too showy, just there when you notice it.
As he explains his situation to the viewer in a series of personal narrations, he makes matter-of-fact lines breathe with the understatement of a Robert Benchley bon mot. More important, he reels the viewer in with the same sense of emphathetic desperation that Michael Caine employed in the similarly single-callow-guy-confessional-themed "Alfie." At times, you even think of Olivier in some of his juicier, more sinister confidences in "Richard III." You find yourself not liking Rob much of the time, but even at his lowest (whining about Laura's inevitable resolution with Ian after Rob just sampled the pleasures of Marie DeSalle) his confessonary character pushes such quibbles away.
Cusack is the central performance, and I love Jack Black's star-making second-banana role as well as the many great cameos, from Tim Robbins to Sara Gilbert, but without even looking at all the people who wrote before me, I'm rashly predicting nearly all ignored Iben Hjejle. I don't know how to pronounce that either, except if we were in Copenhagen it would roll off our tongue like Julia Roberts. (The female lead, despite her excellent English, is from Denmark, and apparently went back there after just this one great role. We did manage to get rid of Brigit Neilsen after "Cobra," too, but it still seems like the Danes got the best of the bargain.) Hjejle makes such an impression as Laura. From reading the screenplay, you might think of her as a bitch just given how she leaves poor Rob flat, but no. Instead, because of her careful line readings, the humble shafts of vulnerable humor she uses to (almost absently) puncture his bleak half-catatonia, and that glorious half-moon smile she shoots while simultaneously defensive and sincere, you really root for her and Rob to come together again, and because you do, the whole rest of the picture works. Hjejle puts over a delicate balancing act. Just imagine Shannon Doherty in the role instead. It's what I mean about the film avoiding the callow trap. You care too much about the people involved, and your caring invests the picture with the sort of meaning that elevates it to real art.
Reading the book, one is impressed by how well the screenwriters did by not veering too far from the veddy British Nick Hornby's story. The four screen scribes (including Cusack) take nearly every cue Hornby gives them, starting with the Top Five list of women/girls who dumped the hero, capturing the record store in much of its written form (even with most of the same pop music references, as we've been on much the same page musically with the Mother Country since the Beatles went on Ed Sullivan). There's not much missing from the book, but since the book's such a fine tight read, and Hornby keeps the plot zipping along, that's a good thing. Still, if you enjoyed the movie, you won't be disappointed. The book fleshes out some things and amplifies others.
Finally, the dialogue is so crisp and effective, funnier and snarkier than a season's worth of "Saturday Night Live," and I love SNL. My favorite line this week is Dick describing Marie DeSalle: "She's a little Sheryl Crowish, crossed with a post-Partridge Family, pre-L.A. Law Susan Dey kind of thing, except, you know, black."
Where can I find a good Beta Band CD, anyway?