Prime

Directed by Ben Younger

Universal Pictures

3 STARS



Demi and Ashton. Cameron and Justin. America is officially fascinated by the older woman-younger man combination, and Uma Thurman’s latest picture, “Prime,” hopes to make America re-evaluate its ageist conceptions about love. So put down the Nintendo, fellas, and get ready to see some December-May sex with thirty-something Thurman.

“Prime” is billed as a romantic comedy in which Rafi (Uma Thurman), a 37-year-old recent divorcé begins a relationship with 23-year-old Dave (Bryan Greenberg). The twist is that Dave also happens to be the son of Rafi’s therapist, Lisa (Meryl Streep). At first, only Lisa realizes their convoluted connection and must listen uncomfortably to Rafi disclose intimate details in therapy (e.g. “His penis is so beautiful. I just want to knit it a hat”). Once all the other characters catch on, comedic chaos ensues.

But if only the cleverly knitted premise would unfold itself a little faster! With the movie’s primary thematic focus on Rafi and Dave’s relationship, the therapist plot line takes up far too much time and leaves the viewer wondering why it occupied nearly half the movie, when it was merely a spring board for the love story.

Six years in the making, “Prime”’s script, written by director Ben Younger (“Boiler Room”), pays such meticulous attention to detail that the characters become unreal during their many perfect, philosophical monologues. The audience practically groans when Rafi declares during a therapy session, “I was married to a man who couldn’t love me; now, I’m with someone who loves me, but who is not a man.” No one talks like this in real life.

Indeed, the shallow, obvious individuals that inhabit “Prime” prevent the story from reaching deeper emotional and comic levels. Rafi loves the Village and Merlot; Dave enjoys Nintendo and beer; Rafi’s gay guy pals in the Hamptons are prissy. These are not real people—they’re simply archetypes of modern New Yorkers.

With these uninteresting and overly philosophical characters, there’s not much with which the actors can work. Streep—whose character does not serve any real purpose after the midpoint of the film—does use her clever comedic timing to depict Lisa’s delectable character nuances. However, Streep’s lack of physical comedy limits her full embodiment of the often-frazzled Lisa.

Likewise, Thurman’s radiant glow works well in the beginning, but Thurman never gains depth past that surface glow. Only newcomer Greenberg really draws the audience into Dave’s experience, allowing them to feel Dave’s tortured frustration without being able to keep pace with an older woman. This relationship and Dave’s reaction to it, pose the pertinent modern question: do men need to serve as the providers in order to feel relationship fulfillment?

Not to sound like an Amish prude, but Rafi and Dave’s sex life takes up too much screen time. While Thurman and Greenberg do have fabulous on-screen chemistry, watching their sexcapades all the flipping time gets old really quickly. Most of Rafi and Dave’s relationship screen time is spent having sex, walking around post-sex, or trying to get to sex. When not having sex, they are either fighting or noticing their age difference. By focusing more on sex than meaningful dialogue, the writer/director prevents the audience from being able to root for a “real” cinematic relationship.

There are many beautifully-directed stylistic nuances in “Prime,” and a steady stream of quotable one-liners (says Rafi of her relationship, “This just smells of pool boy at Sandals Resort”). However, Younger’s attempts to address heavy, modern gender issues within the context of a light, romantic comedy fail. It leaves the story too philosophical for its own good, sounding less like the charming romantic ideology of “When Harry Met Sally” and more like “When Plato Met Dawson’s Creek.”