Volume 8, Issue 11 – November, 2005

Under the Tuscan Sun: Pleasant Enough Travelogue

Rated PG-13

Based on a bestselling book by Frances Mayes, this pretty summer movie sees the author, as represented by the unfeasibly glamorous Diane Lane, struggling to cope with her husband’s adultery and impending divorce, while attempting to revive her dwindling career. On the advice of a close friend, she packs up what remains of her life and heads to Tuscany, where, on impulse, she buys a crumbling 300-year-old villa.

Italy being the only place in the world that heaves with incredibly beautiful men in linen suits with manly cleft chins, it follows that one can always find that elegantly cut dress that makes you look like a matinee idol. In this haunt of eccentric English ex-pats and Greek gods, no-one ever eats junk-food, preferring mounds of wholesome and impeccably presented rustic fare. And surprisingly few obstacles stand before a foreigner who doesn’t speak the language, living alone. But who needs realism when you’ve got such breathtaking scenery?

As would be expected, Frances finds herself frequently overshadowed by the dazzling Tuscan locations and the various quirky locals that always people this kind of film. They include a troupe of Polish builders, an elderly gentleman whose lonely pilgrimage Frances observes each day from her balcony, as well as the world’s most gifted estate agent.

Plenty to write home about, then. But for Frances, there’s little time for writing, between remodeling her magnificent new home, cooking up a feast at the drop of a hat for the hired help, falling into the arms of more gorgeous men, a little amateur match-making and a great deal of winsome staring out at the chocolate-box views. I can’t accuse Under the Tuscan Sun of lacking a sense of humor; far from it. Frances displays a limitless capacity for well-timed humiliation and decorous weeping made more palatable for the viewer by a competent performance from Lane, with relief provided by the considerably more robust Patti (Sandra Oh).

In all, this light confection of a film constitutes little more than a holiday brochure with a few laughs and some insights into renovation along the way. It hardly suffers from the absence of any genuinely interesting, or even three-dimensional male characters. Even the sweet Polish whippersnapper (Pawel Szajda), who at first glance looks about twelve, turns out to possess a body that could have been hewn from marble but little in the way of personality.

Under the Tuscan Sun works well as a fizzy holiday romance, with more sun than substance; I can’t help feeling that the real, messier story of Frances’ journey from San Francisco to Tuscany just might prove far more engaging.