Fanboy obsession central part of ‘Juliet, Naked’
If it’s rock-music fanboy obsession crossed with romantic comedy, it must be Nick Hornby.
And it is, in “Juliet, Naked,” Jesse Peretz’s film that hits all of the usual Hornby notes. (The film is based on his novel; Peretz, Jim Taylor and Tamara Jenkins are credited with the screenplay.) If you’re a fan of Hornby’s — especially if you’re a fan of “High Fidelity” — you’ll recognize what’s going on here.
In other words, if you like Hornby’s work, you’ll like “Juliet, Naked.” If you don’t? Well, the soundtrack is pretty swell, and it’s really great to see Rose Byrne get a chance to shine.
She plays Annie, who runs a museum
in Sandcliff, on the coast of England. She’s lived there her whole life, save for college in London. For the past 15 years she’s been in a relationship with Duncan (Chris O’Dowd), who teaches at college, sometimes rather smugly.
He’s also the world’s biggest, geekiest fan of Tucker Crowe, an alternative singer-songwriter who put out a wellregarded album called “Juliet” about 25 years ago, then — in the middle of a gig — disappeared.
Duncan maintains an obsessive website devoted to Tucker; fanboys (and girls, though mostly boys) share in his mania, passing along tidbits about possible sightings and rumors that Duncan often shoots down with the fervor of the true believer. It’s the perfect vehicle for fanatics — because no one has seen or heard from the guy in a quarter century, any obscure rumor or theory is as good as the next. This is the kind of thing at which Hornby excels.
Annie doesn’t share Duncan’s enthusiasm, so one day when a package shows up for Duncan containing a DIYlooking CD called “Juliet, Naked,” she plays the disc with none of the reverence Duncan would have afforded it. It’s a collection of the recording sessions from “Juliet” — just Tucker and a guitar working out the songs that Duncan and his fellow fanatics would (and will) obsess over.
Annie’s not so convinced. She posts a negative review of the record on Duncan’s site — watching him agonize over his inability to take it down because of his strict adherence to self-imposed rules is a delight — which receives the expected response. Except for one: Someone agrees with her evaluation. And he says he’s Tucker Crowe.
Funny thing — he is. It’s the real Tucker (Ethan Hawke, at his Ethan Hawke-iest). There’s not a lot of mystery to him, it turns out. He’s basically a deadbeat dad, the father of several children by several women he’s bailed on. He’s trying to turn things around with his latest offspring, 6-year-old Jackson (Azhy Robertson), whose mother’s house he lives behind. He and Annie strike up an email correspondence, and soon they’re sharing secrets and thoughts they can’t tell anyone else.
It’s an interesting take, and a worthwhile one: the object of so much small, if devoted, affection is in fact just a guy, charming but irresponsible, who doesn’t regard his contribution to popular culture as anywhere near as important as Duncan and his cronies do.
Events conspire to bring him to England (and to a hospital room, where there’s an impromptu family reunion that’s pretty amusing), where he and Annie meet. They get along as well in person as they do virtually. It’s not cheating — Duncan has split, hooking up with someone more accepting of his nonsense. But it’s of course inevitable that he and Tucker will eventually meet and Duncan will reconcile his feelings.
They do, and it’s kind of odd. Peretz certainly doesn’t overdo it — it’s a relatively small scene. But it’s crucial, absolutely nailing the difference betweena worshipful fan and the person being worshipped. At one point the increasingly agitated Tucker says “Juliet” doesn’t mean that much to him. Stung, his hero calling into question everything he’s devoted a large chunk of his life to, Duncan turns to leave, but not before letting Tucker know: It means a lot to him. There’s a lot of romance and comedy and disappointment and missed opportunities in the movie, but nothing more meaningful that that.
Byrne is a delight. She’s long-suffering, but not solely because of Duncan. Her life is in a rut, and Tucker offers a change of pace. She offers the same for him. By the time he gets around to singing the Kinks’ “Waterloo Sunset” on an electric piano, the moment will be either perfect or too much, depending on your perspective.
And on your feelings about Hornby’s work. I like it, but like Tucker’s music, it’s not for everyone.