I know Ed Burns. He writes movies about Irish American families in New York and they have heart and a lot of soul. And truth, honesty. Purple Violets isn't one of those movies.
I loved Selma Blair and Patrick Wilson. They shined ... Debra Messing gave an embarrassing performance. Her take on her character was a caricature of it and she apparently approached it like a sitcom, as opposed to an independent film. Luckily, she's done other vehicles since.
The story was lacking in purpose and commitment. Wishy-washy, should I write, shouldn't I? The characters ... well honestly, other than Patti and Brian, I didn't really care about them. And I didn't really care that much about Patti and Brian, either. It was not the Ed Burns I've come to love, with his handsome, crooked grin, and vulnerable, yet street-smart sensibilities.
They call Ed Burns the "Irish Woody Allen." Sometimes I think when Ed Burns tries too hard to BE Woody Allen, he falls way short. Ed writes great stories about very close friends and family and the intricacies of their relationships and situations, but things we all go through. He pulls out the microscope, so to speak. You KNOW these people. And while being very funny and sarcastic, he's sensitive and honest.
What he tried here was far too broad. Out of the "family" context, his characters were too normal and not nearly as neurotic as they could/should be. When you write about people who are not with each other on a daily basis, you have to give them a reason to be together. He should just be himself, write what he knows best: deeply flawed, working-class, Irish American New York families and the people who touch their lives. That's when he shines, that's when he grabs your heart.
