I SAW DON'T SAY IT

 

I saw a lovely movie called Don't Say It. I sought it because it features one of my favorite performers, Maria (The Rita Guida Show) Paris, who also costars in the engaging, western set, Gunfight at Rio Bravo and Taken from Rio Bravo, which I've reviewed for Bizarrechats. With that said, there's nothing at all bizarre about Don't Say It, beyond its generous use of daydreams, and even then, those are underscored by frank reality.

Directed by Stephen Ward and written by Rich Grosso, Jessica Abrams and P.J. Marino, the movie is constructed in the humble style of Marty and Crossing Delancey, in which two disenchanted individuals find each other, as they recall the missteps of their lives. 

Pat Leone, portrayed by the aforementioned Grosso, is an amiable, Ralph Kramden-ish deli worker, who almost hit it big as a restauranteur, only to see his aspirations crash and burn. He now leans on his brother for employment, lamenting the string of disappointments that he's prompted, not only for himself, but his ex-wife, Jane (Paris) and their daughter, Dina (Jena Fakroddin). 

On the other side of the lonely-heart coin, there's Lara Doyle, portrayed by Victoria Kelleher, a diner hostess with a penchant for painting and a prolonged sadness that makes her think she doesn't deserve the good life: a notion entrenched by her divorce.   

Pat and Lara are reminded of their foibles through their reveries, some of which are funny, others painful. For Pat, Jane dominates their center, surfacing in the most condescending ways whenever he's tempted to make a bold move. For Lara, it's the anchor of her favorite newscast, played by the dry-witted Stuart Fratkin, who slips from script to challenge her courage. 

Despite their low esteem, Pat and Lara do give their relationship a heartfelt try, but because of their insecurities, the road proves bumpy, leaving friends and family to fill the potholes. 

These friends and family are played with relatable charm by Joe Pacheco as Paul, Pat's practical brother; Jaylyn Bishop as Aubree, Paul's fawning wife; Tony Denison as Dr. Bernardi, Pat's to-the-point shrink; Viva Vinson as CJ, Pat and Lara's cupid songstress; Megan Haley Ehrenberg as Indigo, Lara's sprightly coworker; Eric Edwards as Harry, Lara's affable boss; Travis Stolp as Roger, Lara's ex; Lisa Foiles as Rita, Roger's trophy wife; Delores Deluce as Margery, a picky patron; Jerry Hauk as Murray, Margery's reticent spouse; Spencer Breslin as Mikey, Pat's deli protégé; in addition to Paul Parducci, Noel Elgarby and co-writer Marino as Pat's poker pals. 

For Paris' recurring Jane, the actress bestows a fascinating, twofold performance, which binds events in an offbeat but ideal way, working as both a nagging apparition and a catalyst for Pat's redemption. Jane's duality is, therefore, allegorical, since it allows this underdog fable to move from wallowing in sorry to accepting responsibility for one's fate, demonstrating that the biggest obstacles in life are often imagined, and the worst thing one can do is hesitate when opportunities knock. 

Many romance/relationship films fail because they're rooted in fairyland insincerity. What makes Don't Say It click is that it caters to real people: the ambivalent, flawed and starry-eyed ones. On this basis, it's worth a view, and once viewed, its compassion will likely inspire numerous revisits.

(Don't Say It is available on Amazon Prime.)