director
Michael Lehmann
screenwriter
Robert
Perez
producers
Tim Bevan
Eric Fellner
Michael London
cinematographer
Elliot Davis
music
Rolfe Kent
editor
Nicholas C. Smith
cast
Josh Hartnett (Matt Sullivan)
Shannyn Sossamon (Erica)
Adam Trese (John)
Vinessa Shaw (Nicole)
Maggie Gyllenhaal (Samantha)
Monet Mazur (Candy)
Keegan Connor Tracy (Mandy)
Christine Chatelain (Andie)
Emmanuelle Vaugier (Susie)
Paolo Costanzo (Ryan)
Griffin Dunne (Jerry)
mpaa rating: R
running
time: 92m
u.s.
release: 3/1/02
video
availability: VHS -
DVD
official
website
other michael
lehmann films
reviewed on this website:
- the
truth about cats and dogs
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"Whenever the camera's
on him, he purses his lips and looks grim." I wrote that
line, rather uncharitably, not long ago about Josh Hartnett's
performance (or lack thereof) in Black
Hawk Down. Having now seen Hartnett in 40 Days and
40 Nights, I can only conclude that that's what happens when
you take an actor built for romantic comedy and put him in a
war movie. In this fairly gimmicky but entertaining fluffball,
directed by Michael Lehmann (Heathers) from a script by
Robert Perez, Hartnett connects with the audience humbly and
simply; it's like the old movie cliché wherein a big bruiser
turns out to sing beautifully. Hartnett is a surprise; so is
the movie, which looks dumb in the ads but, like American
Pie, manages to be both raunchy and sweet.
Hartnett is Matt Sullivan,
a website designer gnawing at his post-breakup wounds; his ex
(Vinessa Shaw) has wasted no time getting engaged to some jerk,
and Matt throws himself into meaningless flings until he starts
imagining that his bedroom ceiling is cracking open. Taking this
as a metaphor for the emptiness he feels inside, Matt anguishes
over his libido in hushed conversations with his brother (Adam
Trese), who listens with a not entirely sympathetic ear, since
he also happens to be a priest. Leaving the confessional one
day, Matt hits upon an idea to cleanse his soul and body of lust
-- giving up all sexual gratification for Lent. Of course, this
time of trial is when he meets the perfect woman, Erica (Shannyn
Sossamon), who gets to play the usual male role of waiting for
a romantic partner to put out. (As a cyber-nanny, she probably
looks at more porn daily than he does.)
As I said, 40 Days and 40
Nights rests on a gimmick, but then so did The
Truth About Cats and Dogs, a previous (and equally smart
and satisfying) romantic comedy directed by Michael Lehmann.
It's clear that Lehmann is a journeyman filmmaker who's only
as good as the script (he was the one with the misfortune to
get handed the keys to Hudson Hawk, and his last movie,
four years ago, was the Billy Crystal flop My Giant).
But if Hartnett was born for romantic comedy, so was Lehmann,
who guides the characters with a light and sensible touch. The
scenes at Matt's workplace, full of snide web geeks placing bets
on when Matt will end his abstinence, crackle with wit; the coworkers
in this movie feel like people who work with each other
every day (not an easy feat -- many movies fail in this regard).
As the film goes on, Matt faces
steadily worsening challenges to his will power; a trio of office
vixens (with rhyming-bimbo names Candy, Mandy and Andie) all
but throw themselves at him, not necessarily to win the office
pool but, interestingly, because they're incensed that the Lysistrata-like
power of withholding sex, which usually rests with women, now
rests with him. Matt's hapless boss (Griffin Dunne) thinks
it's a great idea -- if he denies his frigid wife sex,
she'll be crawling all over him! -- but it only works for Matt,
perhaps because he's genuine about it; he's not withholding as
a tactic, and maybe it's one of the few meaningful things he's
done as an adult that aren't meant to get a woman into
bed.
Michael Lehmann has a knack
for intensely erotic hands-off sex scenes; fans of Truth About
Cats and Dogs will remember two from that film -- one involving
food, the other involving a phone -- and he's got another one
here, when Matt and Erica, without touching each other, make
the most of an orchid petal. Lehmann also makes a city bus --
where the couple spend their first date -- seem like a bizarrely
romantic backdrop. In Matt's frenzied final hours of Lent, when
he can't turn around without seeing something designed to keep
him tumescent (at one point he fantasizes splashing down into
a sea of breasts), the movie leans towards easy crowd-tickling
gags but never loses its core -- a former horndog learning to
live, and love, without sex, and the exasperated woman who happens
to meet him while he's learning.
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