SundayJames Berardinelli
At first glance, there's nothing extraordinary about Jonathan Nossiter's debut feature, Sunday. But, several hours after I had seen the movie, I was still thinking about it, and that's the mark of a film with simple, quiet power. When it premiered at Sundance earlier this year, Sunday received some of the best press of any picture (it won both the Waldo Screenwriting Award and the Grand Jury Prize); now, some eight months later, the fledgling distributor Cinepix Film Properties has assured that at least a small nationwide audience will get a chance to see what so many critics found praiseworthy. It's possible to classify Sunday as a "love story", but that would probably be a misnomer. While it's true that the main characters -- Oliver, a downsized worker (played by David Suchet), and Madeleine, an aging actress for whom roles are scarce (Lisa Harrow) -- go through the motions of lovers, their relationship isn't about love. It's about quenching loneliness and finding companionship in a cold, cruel world that has, in its own way, sought to crush both of them. Sex is nothing more than a form of primal release, a way to connect with another human being. These two have no future, but they cling desperately for a few hours to the illusion of what they have achieved. Once, Madeleine was a well-known and respected British actress, but, as the years passed and the marks of age began to etch themselves upon her features, her services became less and less desired. In a moment of self-deprecating revelation, she claims that the only roles she has a shot at these days are those of zombie mutants in low-budget horror films, adding, "I guess I'm too old to play a human." (It's worth noting that Nossiter has bucked this trend of using young, attractive actors by casting two out-of-shape, middle-aged performers -- a choice that's crucial to the film's success.) Her home life is a mess. She is separated from her husband, Ben (Larry Pine), but he keeps showing up at her house on the pretext of spending time with their daughter. Oliver, meanwhile, is just as despondent as Madeleine. Like her, he's trying to uncover the meaning of life, but it's proving elusive. Since losing his job, he has sunk lower and lower on the financial and social scale. Now, he's living in a shelter by night and wandering the streets of Queens by day. Then, on one fateful Sunday, he meets Madeleine after she mistakes him for a prominent London director by the name of Matthew Delacorta. Oliver decides to play along with her, and, although their initial exchange doesn't touch upon anything that could reveal his deception, Madeleine eventually realizes the truth. Instead of challenging Oliver, however, she begins to play an elaborate game of "pretend" with him. For the most part, Sunday is a poignant, powerfully-realized character study of two lonely people. Their quiet conversations mark the film's highlights, and Nossiter pays particular attention to little details (for example, when Madeleine and Oliver first enter her home, she unobtrusively uses her foot to sweep some newspapers out of sight). In addition, he fashions a gray, grim atmosphere (a cold, wintry New York City) that adds weight to the despair experienced by the characters. Suchet, who is best known for his role as the title character in PBS's Poirot, gained 40 pounds for this part, and plays Oliver with great emotional strength. There are times when we can feel (not just see) his despair. Lisa Harrow, the lead in Gillian Armstrong's The Last Days of Chez Nous, is every bit Suchet's match. As wonderfully effective as the quiet scenes are in Sunday, Nossiter takes his share of missteps. The first involves the inclusion of small army of secondary characters -- Madeleine's husband and the group of men who share the shelter with Oliver. Although their purpose -- to strengthen the sense of isolation -- is clear, scenes with these individuals are distracting, taking time away from the interaction between the two leads and interrupting the film's flow. Secondly, there are instances when Nossiter's artsy style (point-of-view camera angles, close-up shots of dead fish, crabs, and lobsters, etc.) approaches pretentiousness. However, the worst these flaws can do is occasionally mute Sunday's power. The best moments of the film shine through, leaving behind unforgettable images and feelings that will not evaporate when the house lights go up.
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