The fact that I am an (ordinarily) rational human male dictates that I describe the circumstances under which I find myself watching Under the Tuscan Sun. Not watched, watching. I am as of this very minute, approximately one hour into the film, and not since Torque has a movie so desperately begged me to write about it. I feel the need to spread the word about this movie in somewhat the same way that I imagine a great investigative reporter feels a responsibility to warn the general public about the terrible things the evil corporation is doing to the town water supply. A civic duty, a higher calling – give it any name you want – it’s a dirty, dangerous job, but someone has to do it.

Coming back to the aforementioned circumstances. I am on ANA flight NH901 from Tokyo to Singapore and on the in-flight entertainment system, I have 4 options. Matchstick Men (which I liked very much, but which I saw 4 days ago on the flight in – and I remember the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach at the end of it – not again and not so soon.), Timeline (for which only the Japanese language version seems to be working), Under the Tuscan Sun, and a Japanese movie without subtitles where everyone just seems to be drinking a lot of tea and not doing much else. Where is Ultraman when you need him?

And anyway, Diane Lane is hot - how bad can this be? Let me tell you how bad. It’s a creepy, insidious kind of bad – not a simple cliché and cheese soufflé with a side of redemption – its like a bunch of people got together and said – hey, lets really screw with this audience’s minds. I don’t mean in a Fight Club-type perspective twist or a narrative gotcha like Matchstick Men or a reality warp like Existenz – that’s easy stuff. Let’s find a large audience segment lacking in confidence, hope and direction and purposefully push every goddamn overexposed button we can find. Let’s target the recently abandoned middle-aged woman.

For those of you completely unfamiliar with this film, Diane Lane is a recently divorced middle-aged American who decides, on a whim, to buy a villa in Tuscany and fix it up. She meets eccentric people and may eventually find true love, all while I fight the impulse to throw up. No stewardess, its not the teriyaki chicken.

Button no. 1: Anger. No sympathetic character can possibly resemble the rat-bastard who left her. So – who are our best friends? lesbians, old guys, old ladies (all adorably eccentric of course), a Polish orphan (yes, really), supremely faithful family men, and all manner of cuddly baby animals (I am not kidding – I count one baby owl and one kitten so far).

Button no. 2: Self-doubt. Am I stupid? Am I ugly? Am I boring? Of course not girlfriend, no one ever is. So – who is our role model? A beautiful swinging older woman who is all about ‘childish innocence’ and Fellini recreations (just like Civil War recreations, but less gunpowder and more fountains). Who is our love interest? A heavily accented Italian (called Marcello! Ye gads.) who drives a convertible and has a big family and a niece who loves ice cream.

Button no. 3: Aimlessness. Will I ever find a purpose in life? So – how do we stay capable and competent and keep growing? No, Bob – not by opening a Corvette dealership – we could refit a rundown Tuscan villa! Imagine the possibilities – helpful (but eccentric) neighbours, crazy contractors, lots of hi-jinks with bricks and mortar and – oh my, this is clever – an incredible metaphor for rebuilding a life!! Why stop there? Lets put in some more in case they don’t get it! A tap that was dry, slowly begins to drip and then gushes with life affirming aqua! La Dolce Vita comes to life! There are ladybugs in the air!

Look, I could keep going. But the movie is ending now and (spoiler warning!) all is ending happily ever after. There is even a wonderful voice-over’d homily to tie things up that is as subtle as a four Humvee pile-up. I just wanted to, as I said earlier – warn the public at large that this film is out there and looking for victims. It is armed with truisms, absurdity and pandering and should be considered extremely dangerous. Lock your doors. Stay away from the light. And the Tuscan freaking Sun.

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