'Hello, My Name Is Doris': Puts the Sex in Sexagenarian
In director Michael Showalter's "Hello, My Name Is Doris," Sally Field as the loveably quirky Doris Miller manages, in one fell swoop, to deliver a treatise on individualism, joie de vie, grace in aging and how to battle the challenge of unrequited love. It is a tour de force that entertainingly reminds what a national treasure this now older gal next door has become.
We meet the eccentric, 60-something lady on the sad occasion of her 91-year-old mother's funeral, and soon gather that the title character has spent the better part of her life devotedly caring for Mom. Commuting from Staten Island to her New York City accounting job in some non-descript new age company that deemed it politically correct to retain some of the older employees, she's seen as a slightly mysterious relic. We're certainly curious.
More or less mixing and matching a plethora of loud prints that would leave a fashionista flummoxed for a description of her attire, she regularly tops it all off with a large bow in her hair, the coup de grace declaring her eccentricity. Doubtless you'll recall from childhood the man or woman in your neighborhood who cast a similar image, someone decidedly afield of the mainstream who scared you just a little, but all the same suggested the plausibility of infinite lifestyles. Well, that's Doris.
Heretofore, she has had few friends, her day confined to work, rummaging through and collecting discarded items along her daily commute, and seeing to mother's needs. But we've happily meet her at a watershed, when the excuse for not exploring the possibilities of self-realization no longer exists. It is a brave new world and, perhaps, might have been forgone, were it not for the serendipitous arrival of Max Greenfield's John Fremont, the new art director some 30 years Doris' junior.
She is smitten. Whatever libidinous spark had lain dormant in Doris all these years is suddenly reawakened with a romantic magic suggesting a senior citizen version of the kiss that brought Snow White back to life.
Now, I'm not sure how the implications of Doris' suddenly unleashed longing would be viewed in Bora Bora or among the Inuit people of Greenland. However, in the portion of Western Civilization that we call home, some folks would surely define the dear lady — and she is a dear lady — in rather unkind terms. Phooey to them. What do they know?
There are two forces working here to draw our interest. First, there is that omnipotent power of love that, most of us can attest, defies all reason. Secondly, Doris quickly inveigles her way into our hearts. We want to see her happy, and we'll worry about all the impracticalities later. Hence, we cast our vote for this potential, May-September romance, affirming that the goose, like the gander, is entitled to shop for a mate in the younger aisle if that's what strikes her fancy.
Unfortunately, the handsome transplant from California is hardly aware of the love-struck sexagenarian. Per his radar, she's just a nice, albeit strange, old lady who has apparently gone out of her way to make him feel welcome in his new environment. But not to despair, dear hearts. Still water runs deep, and when it has waited 40 years to cascade, it can be quite a force.
Confiding in her best and probably only friend, Roz, a socialist-spouting fellow throwback at the company compassionately realized by Tyne Daly, Doris is soon taking advice to the lovelorn from Roz's 13-year-old granddaughter, Vivian (Isabella Acres). Quicker than you can say social media, Doris has a Facebook account and, adopting Lilith Primrose as her alias, goes the old, tried and true undercover route to deviously win her true love. Successfully friending John, she takes the express route to his likes.
"How cool," thinks John when Doris shows up at an electro-rock concert in hip Williamsburg wearing an outfit that could have only been inspired by Dr. Seuss after he'd been shopping with Timothy Leary. She makes other inroads, and soon, age notwithstanding, she's all the rage in the Brooklyn milieu. Baby Goya, the hippest of the hip rockers, wants her for his next album cover. Hey, this love thing might work yet.
However, behind the zaniness and high hopes, grim reality lurks. Todd (Stephen Root), the brother who went to college and married while Doris cared for Mom and played wallflower, now says he's due his half of the house. Branding sis a hoarder, he's even hired a shrink to make her let go of the accumulated tchotchkes. Of course we don't like him. But he's just the necessary subplot.
Much more importantly, once again we really, really like Sally Field, who makes "Hello, My Name Is Doris" most worthy of our acquaintance.
"Hello, My Name Is Doris," rated R, is a Roadside Attractions release directed by Michael Showalter and stars Sally Field, Max Greenfield and Tyne Daly. Running time: 95 minutes
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