Soap operas are an interesting, under-appreciated phenomenon. They find a captive audience in people who live vicariously through the exaggerated and interwoven storylines, and the viewers in turn find companionship in the daily presence of the characters they come to know.
Such is the case of the title heroine of "Nurse Betty" (Renee Zellweger), whose only diversion from her humdrum life as an unhappily married waitress in Fair Oaks, Kans., exists in her obsession with the hospital-set serial, "A Reason to Love." In fact, Betty's dream of living the life of a soap character (not as an actor, but as an actual character) is what grants her the power to escape.
"Betty" marks a departure for director Neil LaBute. His first two features, "In the Company of Men" and "Your Friends and Neighbors" took male misogyny and volatile human relationships to new heights (or lows, more appropriately). He doesn't get there alone, however. This time out, LaBute works with the sly hand of the scripting team of John C. Richards and James Flamberg, who won the award at Cannes for their work.
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Traumatized, Betty retreats into her own world where she imagines she has just walked out on Del and sets out for L.A. to meet Dr. David Ravell, the male lead on her soap. Betty believes that all of the characters on "Love" truly exist, and are not just played by actors.
Equal parts poignant and devilish funny, "Betty" is essentially a fable about the power of fantasy, about how dreams can facilitate escape. Just like Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz" (a reference that perhaps could have been left a little more oblique), her dreams take Betty far from Kansas.
With fate seemingly on her side, Betty succeeds in fulfilling her every wish: she gets hired as a nurse in a local hospital and she piques the interest of the actor who plays David, George McCord (Greg Kinnear). And so the web Richards and Flamberg weave is full of fascinating layers. George is taken aback by what he thinks is Betty's devotion to the character, while Betty thinks she has finally found David.
But "Betty" is not a work of pure camp. As LaBute guides the movie through the blacker areas on the comedy spectrum, a few chinks appear in the armor. Betty has left with the money that Wesley and Charlie wanted from Del, unwittingly making herself a wanted woman. As they tail her, Charlie begins to idealize his image of Betty. But while Betty's adoration of David smacks of wicked commentary on celebrity worship, Charlie's obsession is unfounded and forced.
Luckily, the resourceful Freeman is able to portray Charlie as a lonely soul, a tormented killer. But as rich as his performance is, there is too much friction between him and the abrasive Rock to work.
Zellweger, however, smoothes out the edges on Betty's rocky Yellow Brick Road to happiness. She outdoes her top-notch work in "Jerry Maguire" and "One True Thing." Her delicacy makes Betty a charmer with her perseverance where other actresses might have only made her seem dim or flighty. But her unprepossessing manner also gives her a great rapport with all members of the ensemble.
Another major standout is Allison Janney (who just snagged an Emmy this weekend for "The West Wing") as a cynical writer-producer on "Love." She turns what was a sour olive on paper into a wry, dry martini. Kinnear is no slouch either. He reeks of self-mockery as a vain star, but he's never a two-dimensional one.
Whether she's aware of it or not at the time, Betty creates her very own adventure. And she isn't alone: LaBute insists that everyone plays a leading role in their life story, moving from one episode to the next.
It's a lesson worth learning.