Feast of Love is a feast alright, a feast of overwrought, pseudo-psychological romantic dramedy. I usually think it’s a shame to see such talent wasted on a piece of clap trap, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. I’m not sure what the makers of this film thought they were producing, but I can guarantee that they didn’t achieve their objectives, far from it. This sentimental, six degrees fluff probably works for some, but not me – obviously. There’s a thin line between quirky and annoying, soppy and sappy, Feast of Love doesn’t know where that line is.



The movie follows a group of young romantics as seen through the eyes of a college professor (Morgan Freeman) mourning the death of his son. Bradley (Greg Kinnear) looses his wife (Selma Blair) to another woman and then enters into a relationship with a realtor (Radha Mitchell), who’s herself engaged in an affair with a married man (Billy Burke). Another storyline deals with one of Bradley’s employees (Toby Hemingway) in his coffee shop who falls for a free-spirited young women (Alexa Davalos) despite the ominous, and thinly veiled, threats from his redneck father (Fred Ward).



Yeah, so these three storylines of varying degrees of pettiness and annoyance make up the nearly two-hour running time. The story’s meditation on the magic of love is hardly insightful and far from inspiring, not to mention unoriginal. The film starts off with a supposed myth from Greece about how the when the gods were bored, they invented humans and when they were bored still they invented love. This film was spared the effort of having to invent either humans or love, but I was still bored.



Interestingly, I don’t think I realized how much I disliked this movie until I sat down to write this review. I guess maybe I didn’t notice when I was watching because I was so passively involved with this film, its characters and their storylines. I liked Freeman, of course, that guy could play Mr. Potter and find a way to make him genial. Kinnear’s sad sack was kind of too pathetic, sure he’s supposed to be, but you’re supposed to root for these guys in the end. Freeman and Kinnear are the stars, but frankly I can’t think of anyone that stood out or that didn’t even have a basic level of interest.



Basically, it was really predictable. The outcome of the young couple’s storyline was really telegraphed from the beginning. The unspoken tribulation between Freeman’s professor and his wife, pretty much remains that way through the movie, the viewer isn’t given much in the way of background or resolution which is odd given the seeming centricity of it to the plot.



So after all of Kinnear’s Mad About You from hell relationship conflicts all were left with is repeated nudity-filled, static sex scenes set to coffee house pop tripe with the exception of “Falling Slowly” by Glen Hansard from Once. Really Director Robert Benton? You feel comfortable comparing this clap trap to one of the most beautiful romantic films in years? Maybe this film is bolder than I thought.