Ruby Sparks...and God created Woman

Talking on air on Ara City Radio last week on Friday Flicks, it was probably the first time I got so excited about a film. It was my very own tip of the week; I dared to name it in my flamboyant fashion "the perfect film". Ben believed I have seen the film already, due to my overwhelming dedication. I had only seen the trailer once.

Ruby Sparks (2012) is by no means "the perfect film";  I  do tend to have great expectations, a bothersome characteristic I try to diminish from a very young age. Ruby Sparks is, still, a refreshing film with  sweet moments, actors we love and some others we are falling in love with. Like Zoe Kazan, who succeeded in doing what she left unfinished in HappyThankYouMorePlease (2010). There she was plain annoying. Being Ruby Sparks, she is real, she is happy, she is sad and charming, she is the maze of life. It could be that she loved the character too much, as she is her creator. Even though she plays the creation. I will get back to that in a bit.

In regards to Paul Dano, maybe I should keep my mouth shut. Or not. He  is a lot like a young Woody Allen impersonator (poignant remark from my J.J.) and he has quite a Sphinx look, no much emotion or responsiveness there.

Dano is a prodigious young writer stuck for the time being with frustration, psychotherapy and writer's block; in the company of his  equally timid dog and his settled down brother, he disapproves of his youthful and delirious mother, Annete Bening, and her new husband Antonio Banderas and he slowly unfolds a strict self after meeting the girl of his dreams. Or, we'd better say, after making the girl of his dreams, -the only abstract idea that could lure him back to his writing- come to life. 

Now, let me go back to the bipolar concept of creator and the creation for a moment. God created Eve in the Bible, then Adam found her faulty. Brigitte Bardot was also accused of excessive sensuality in the homonymous film Et Dieu créa  la Femme, thus was told to try and 'reshape' herself. To behave herself. And the story goesand on. Our writer dreams of his fantasy object, a charming young girl. Next day he finds her bra on his couch. He cannot quite grasp the grandeur of the miracle, at first. Until he finds her faulty. His creation was a rough sketch of an arty, independent girl. It seemed good on paper. Not in real life. Who wants to mess up with an arty, independent girl, anyways. Free will is for those who can handle it, but, why is it that most of us don't? Unhealthy sentimental attachment is also not of our taste. In the end, we should probably get in terms with the idea that a faulty creator can only produce a faulty (sic) creation. The person we are fantasizing, the "one" we are looking for, the girl or the boy of our dreams is doomed to be faulty because we are faulty and we are in charge of creating them in the first place. Crystal clear, isn't it? I hate sadism, by the way. And the nice and sweet and ow-so-shy writer first creates a faulty dreamy girl and then he makes her suffer a bit, au lieu de admitting his own shortcoming. Horrible.

That was my brilliant idea of the day, thank you very much. I am now watching I am Alan Partridge with Steve Coogan who is one of my favourite comedians -a real comedian has to be Brit, by the way - and I might as well add that Steve Coogan is also doing a guest appearance in the film. One more reason to go and see it.

Overall the film does not avoid some less original moments, BUT it features an absolutely amazing soundtrack; it consists of mainly French songs like Ça Plane Pour Moi which tighten up the rhythm. Last, but not least, I shouldn't leave out the über- short, but worth remembering appearance of a fallen angel with the name of Deborah Ann Woll.