Being John Cusack

“I love John Cusack!” exclaims everybody I know.

And hey, who can really argue? Cusack’s on quite a roll right now, deftly walking the leading-man middle ground like a cute date balancing on the side of a fountain. He can do savvy without resorting to “I’m-Slick” posturing (e.g., Pierce Brosnan, whose tie-adjusting characterizations all suffer from acute Bond Envy), and he can do sensitive, but without the moistened doe-eyes (e.g., Nicholas Cage, whose recent turns in Family Man and Captain Corelli’s Mandolin have proved that he can do insufferable mournfulness like no other). Looks-wise, he’s solid and then some, his smooth face a juxtaposition of an aristocrat’s brow-line and a puppy’s jaw-line. With his droopy sleeves, his toussled hair, his little fits of bangs-blowing anxiety, Cusack projects a vulnerability that is effortlessly winning, a kind of real-guy-but-sweeter charm that both your grandma and your little sister could love. All of these qualities effectively serve to make Cusack the Most Likeable, or if you prefer, the Least Controversial Leading Male Actor working today. (Unless, of course, you count Tom Hanks, although for my money, with each stubble-sporting new role, he’s edging further away from romantic lead territory and closer to Father Figure-land.) Being a “likeable” star, however, is not without its drawbacks.

One downside, of course, is finding the balance between that time-tested inverse relationship between mainstream acceptance and creative free reign. Held as he is to a standard of consistent pleasantness, Cusack’s character range has become more and more limited, and his idiosyncracies as an actor now have a distinctive familiarity.

Of course, limitations in genre or character type don’t have to equal boring movies. In the hands of a skilled writer, such limitations often yield greater creativity, as writers come up with new twists on old conventions. In Cusack’s case, witness Gross Pointe Blank, which took the romantic comedy genre (in which Cusack most comfortably walks) and tweaked it, hilariously, by making Cusack’s leading man an assassin. Unfortunately, for every inspired screenplay, there are hundreds of others that are content to play by the rules, re-staging old scenes and re-hashing old material. We’re consequently served up fare that, in its eagerness to showcase Cusack’s widespread appeal, arrives with hardly anything to distinguish itself (think: plain pasta). So it was with Cusack’s recent America’s Sweethearts, and so it is with Serendipity, his newest romantic vehicle.

Set in a sun-dappled (and World Trade Center-less) Manhattan, Serendipity wastes no time in introducing its central characters. Cusack plays Jonathan Trager, a nice floppy-haired guy; Kate Beckinsale (of Pearl Harbor ‘fame’) plays Sara, a nice wild-haired girl. In the first scene they “meet cute,” both reaching for the same pair of gloves in a Christmas-crazy Bloomingdales. Each wants the gloves as a present for a respective significant other (oh, shucks). The pair, nonetheless, hit it off, and together they enjoy a wonderful, life-changing day. We know that they hit it off because they spend lots of time staring at each other wistfully; we know that the day is life-changing because of all the established magical moments of which it is comprised. The two share a festive chocolatey drink at a trendy café, Serendipity (which, incidentally, has already had its close-up in George Clooney’s One Fine Day); they stroll through Central Park, flocks of pigeons flapping out of their path; they ice-skate at night, snowflakes from a fake-snow-making-machine gently alighting upon their shoulders.

Then comes the premise-setting twist. Sara, whose funky hat and scarf have already alerted us to her New Agey weirdness, turns out to be a staunch believer in fate. When Jonathan hands her his phone number and a sudden breeze whisks the piece of paper away, she takes this as a sign that their relationship isn’t meant to be. Egged on by his pleas, however, she agrees to play a little game with fate. They both release their phone numbers into the great beyond, his on a five-dollar bill and hers on the inside cover of a book. If they should ever run across those numbers again, then they must be meant for each other. And so they part.

Cut to ten years later (long enough for them to reign in their haircuts, not long enough to be any less attractive). Sara has eased up on her kooky fate-talk but has filled the void by moving to San Francisco and becoming engaged to a bizarre Yanni-like musician. Jonathan, still in Manhattan, is about to marry a sweet-enough girl from a generic family. Neither of them, however, has forgotten That Night; and as their weddings approach, both of them set out to find their ‘soul mate’ (whether they’re prompted by a genuine urge to reclaim the fantasy, or just by cold feet, isn’t quite clear). In this pursuit, the outcome of which should be pretty obvious if you’ve ever seen a movie with a guy and a girl, each are aided by a Funny Best Friend. Beckinsale drags along Eve (Molly Shannon, late of “Saturday Night Live”) and Cusack enlists Dean (Jeremy Piven, who struck a nice chemistry with Cusack in Grosse Pointe Blank). Both provide solid support, though I wish that they existed as more than just sounding boards/agents to further the plot, given that they are the only other characters with substantial screen time in this sparsely-populated film.

The plot moves along primarily through a series of coincidences and near-misses (she walks out of the café, he walks in!) that had my audience guffawing gently near the beginning, groaning by the end. I’m not certain whether the groans were a reaction to the shamelessness of the plot contrivances, or whether the audience simply wanted to see Beckinsale and Cusack together already. They are, admittedly, really cute together. Beckinsale lends earnestness to a somewhat flimsy character, and Cusack, we’ve talked about him. But if you came to see sparks fly between the leads, be advised, a bathroom break is not a good idea.

Of course, depending on your mood and genre preference, this movie may be perfectly fine entertainment. If you just adore romantic comedy, you’ll find little wrong with Serendipity (be prepared, though, to find yourself wondering where you saw that before, more than once). If the, er, activity level of the couple sitting in front of me was any indication, it’s a great date movie, too. Serendipity is, however, undeniably unimpressive. As you struggle to recall any precise details of the story or lines of dialogue afterwards, it will leave you wondering if your money would not have been better spent.