In case you’re keeping score, it was only a month ago that “What Happens Later” was in theaters.
Now on DVD, it’s a prime example of “cut your losses.” In short, it’s dreadful.
In the new Hallmark-like rom-com, Meg Ryan and David Duchovny are former lovers who meet accidentally in a regional airport when a storm moves in. She’s headed to Boston; he’s bound for Austin. They have that “say what?” kind of encounter, then spend the rest of what seems like eternity unloading about the past.
She, apparently, was a free soul. He was a buttoned-up businessman bound for glory. When a situation pulled them apart, they never talked. But, here, nothing seems to shut them up. She opens up about a multitude of subjects and reminds him of little things most would forget after they happened.
Co-written and directed by Ryan, it’s hardly something she might have starred in three or four decades ago. It’s a labored journey that isn’t made any better by the lack of co-stars. Even though others are in the airport, they don’t get a hint of attention.
Instead, he talks about his daughter and her decision to become a dancer – even though he doesn’t think she’s very good.
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Ryan’s character, meanwhile, limps around the walkways like Diane Keaton on a bad clothes bender. She has a rainstick, too, and a habit of writing things in her boots. (Don’t ask.)
The talks manage to hit on the younger generation, music and ailments they’ve both acquired. When they’re making lists (and there are several), the banter sounds forced. Clearly, the screenplay comes from people striving to sound smart instead of spontaneous.
Throughout the film, an airport “voice” makes announcements, then comments on the couple’s situation. It’s cute, but it also seems a little too gimmicky. If anything, “What Happens Later” should have been a play. Lighting could have provided necessary transitions and the two actors wouldn’t have seemed so awkward.
Ryan still has that winsomeness she exhibited in a handful of films (many directed by her friend Nora Ephron), but there’s a worldliness that never gets tapped. When she starts explaining the things that tore them apart, she seems like someone who has been plotting for years to have this accidental encounter.
That both of them go by “W. Davis” is one of the film’s odder aspects. She’s Willa; he’s Bill. They don’t listen carefully to gate closings, either, and manage to sleep on a floor that most wouldn’t walk on.
As director, Ryan frequently frames her scenes in weird ways. At one point, the two are sitting so far apart, it’s a miracle they don’t fall off the edges of the screen.
