UNMADE BEDS (1998)
D: Nicholas Barker (New Yorker)
SWEET HEARTS (1997)
D: Aleks Horvat.  Janeane Garofalo, Mitch Rouse, Margaret Cho, Bob Goldthwait (Trimark)
 

There’s something terribly desperate about the idea of personal ads.  The idea that loneliness would drive someone to advertising themselves in the hopes of finding someone with whom they may just share something in common is, in fact, such a pathos-inducing concept that most romantic comedies,  dismissing such Raymond Carver-esque themes in favor of wide-eyed little kids and a hip soundtrack, don’t even bother.  In such circumstances where they are dealt with, such as Next Stop Wonderland, the hopelessness of the situation is addressed by having someone other than the lead character place the ad, thereby allowing our romantic hero to look down upon the concept, and they never end up with someone they met through the ad anyway.
Thankfully, two recently-released films have the sheer audacity to not only use the theme of personal ads as a central plot point, but are perfectly willing to go all the way with them in their unflinching portrayal of lonely times calling for desperate measures.  One, Unmade Beds, is a documentary-like film based on four single people in New York looking for love, and the other, Sweet Hearts, features a more traditionally-structured narrative in its tale of one encounter between two single people meeting through an ad.
Unmade Beds features four people playing themselves in recreated documentary-like footage of their quest for the perfect match.  There’s Michael, a bitter 5’4” fellow in his 40’s whose ad begins “Had enough of this single life crap,” Brenda, an Italian woman looking for a guy with money, Aimee, whose status of being 28 and unmarried has caused her to claim that “getting a man is my full-time job,” and Mikey, a failed Hugh Hefner wanna-be in his 50’s who keeps maxipads in his bathroom for women that come over “in case they have that thing goin’ on.”
A simple documentary on any of these subjects and their efforts would make for a voyeuristic pleasure in itself, but director Nicholas Barker manages to blend bits of their lives together effortlessly, streaming the audience through the ups and downs (mostly the latter) of single life.  It’s easy to make fun of the deluded Mikey, his pathetic screenplays and his horribly lame plan of having his beeper go off on a date “in case he gets a mutt,” but he becomes a lot more human when you see his face after he’s just been rejected.  Brenda’s rant about how Jews have no sex appeal and her justification in stealing dog food (“They’re God’s creatures, I should not have to pay for that.”) is as hilarious as Aimee’s breakdown in the park is heartbreaking and Michael’s bitterness is frustrating, and there’s bound to be at least one character here you can feel a real bond with, though that, in itself, may change upon your own personal mood.
Barker’s pacing of the film, the personal vignettes sandwiched in between candid shots of people through the windows of their own apartments in the city and a perfect musical accompaniment, work to near-perfection.  It’s one of the most engaging films in years, and I’ve yet to find someone whose seen it once without wanting to see it again.  You may find yourself rewinding it and watching it all over immediately after the ending credits, as the film’s only major flaw is its length--a mere 93 minutes is not enough time to spend with such a fascinating glimpse of humanity.
Despite boasting a cast of Janeane Garofalo, Margaret Cho and Bob Goldthwait, Sweet Hearts sat on the shelf for three years before finding a much-deserved release.  Mitch Rouse plays Arliss, a fellow in his late 20’s whose ad leads to a blind date with Jasmine, a bipolar manic depressive played by Garofalo.  The rest of the film plays a bit like Before Sunrise as written by Adrian Tomine, as the two struggle through their first date in an occasionally awkward, frequently funny, and suitably bleak manner that rarely devolves into standard romantic comedy trappings.  In fact, those expecting a cheery Meg Ryan-like vehicle for Garofalo by looking at the cover box may find themselves severely bummed out by the film, essentially a fairly downbeat drama with well-written, witty dialogue.
Rouse, in a role that occasionally seems written for Hal Hartley regular Martin Donovan, is perfect and manages to share the screen well with an equally-brilliant Garofalo, no easy task as Garofalo really gets a chance to show off her acting chops here.  Jasmine is a fascinating character, the sort of woman whose combination of intelligence, wit and sudden mood swings make her as dangerous conversationally to someone she likes as to someone she doesn’t.  Cho proves to be a scene-stealer, though never intrusively so, as the coffee shop’s manager, and only Goldthwait’s masturbating co-worker seems a bit out of place.
Even though nearly all of the dialogue-heavy film takes place in and around the coffee shop over such a short period of time, Sweet Hearts rarely gets dull and never seems like an extention of a filmed play.  It’s to writer/director Aleks Horvat’s credit that he manages to address most of the issues of personals dating (potential liars, looking for some sort of personal ideal, the awkwardness of what to say, trying to make a good impression by not being yourself) with equal honesty with wit.  The two leads emerge as some of the most three-dimensional characters to inhabit any recent cinematic romance, and the deliveries of the dialogue comes off as truly conversational.
The film veers off-course a bit when Jasmine pulls a gun on Arliss in order to keep the date alive, as though Horvat felt he needed some sort of plot hook to keep things going.  It’s not really necessary--the characters are interesting enough to follow without the need to bring a rather useless encounter with the police into the scene. Still, it gives Cho a few more bits of dialogue, so some good does come of it.
If you’re single, you can look at Unmade Beds and Sweet Hearts and find someone to identify with.  If you’re not, you can check them out and see how miserable you could be.  Either way, you’re in for a pair of good films, both guaranteed to stick with you after the credits begin to roll.