It looks like a serious film. It sounds like a serious film. But director Mike Newell’s “Love in the Time of Cholera” is just one big joke.
Everything ““ from the “love” that the title describes to the lovebirds themselves ““ is utterly underdeveloped, creating a mockery of the featured romance. And the corny script, bad aging makeup, and unexplored motives of the characters only worsen this lackluster love story.
A few minutes in, young Florentino Ariza (Unax Ugalde) spots a random girl, Fermina (Giovanna Mezzogiorno), smiles goofily, and viewers know that he has fallen hard. This initial gaze, as well as everything that follows, happens way too fast and without elaboration. They literally see each other too quickly (no proper introduction precedes their roles as dopey lovers), fall in love too quickly, decide to wed too quickly, separate too quickly, and on and on.
It is as if filmmakers, in an attempt to closely follow Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s novel (on which the film is based), focused more on packing in the book’s plot than actually exploring the dispositions and motives of the characters. Thus at the film’s conclusion, Florentino and Fermina are neither relatable nor likable.
After stalking her at mass and delivering love letters, Florentino suddenly proposes to Fermina (they have exchanged only a few hushed words at this point). And perhaps even more surprising is that she agrees, saying she’ll marry him as long as he doesn’t make her eat eggplant (your guess as to why she would say such a thing is as good as mine).
Ugalde’s portrayal of the young Florentino as a goofy and somewhat pitiful mama’s boy sets a comedic tone that weakens what was probably meant to be a true and respectable love. There are times when Fermina acts just as bizarre, at one point smelling a lock of hair that he has sent her.
After Fermina’s enraged father (John Leguizamo) discovers her intention to wed a telegram boy, he lectures her with what sounds like a half-New York, half-Spanish accent and takes her to stay with relatives.
For the second half of the film, Javier Bardem steps in to play Florentino as an adult. The good news is he is less of a lovesick goofball. The bad news is that he is now a degenerate old nymphomaniac with a bad reputation, who records his 600-something sexual escapades (the older he gets, the younger the women seem to get) in a little notebook. Oh, and all the while, he is waiting for Fermina’s wealthier, better-looking, and more likable husband, Dr. Juvenal Urbino (Benjamin Bratt), to die so he can have her to himself.
“Love” has an ironic title because while it tries to set up an initial love-at-first-sight vibe, overacting taints this mood so that a deep and believable love ““ like that portrayed in romances like “Titanic” and “The Notebook” ““ is unachievable. It is difficult to take their love seriously when all they do to show it is look longingly at each other. The lovers are neither complex nor curious about the complexity of the other. In fact, aside from the ending, they never exchange more than a few words at a time.
There is also an inappropriately light air about “Love.” It starts at the beginning with the actors’ laughable dramatization and the excruciatingly unoriginal dialogue. The over-the-top gestures of affection seem to mock its seriousness and emphasize their naivete as young lovers. It seems to suggest that their “love” could just as well be little more than infatuation.
A film that claims to be a romance (this one does so with the title alone) should not make viewers doubt the characters’ genuine feelings for each other, and this one does just that.
““ Paige Parker