cummings in the also morally obtuse Hannah and Her Sisters.
These self-aggrandizing affectations ape Woody Allen's intertitle quotes of e.e.
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It isn't accidental that Tadpole is punctuated by white-on-black intertitles of Voltaire quotations ("Love shows no signs that cannot be mistaken," "It is not enough to conquer, one must know how to seduce"). This well-heeled world of spiritually unconscious WASPs revolves around Oscar's (perhaps Winick's) solipsism. Instead of confronting Oscar's selfishness and manipulation of others' emotions, Winick wants audiences to enjoy Oscar's erotic fumblings, his snide disregard for other people's personal and social arrangements. His fixation on older women?especially their hands?is Eric Rohmer shtick but not taken to Rohmer's logical, philosophical conclusion. Aaron Stanford's nerd-slim body and dark-circled eyes make him a provocative choice for this bookish, horny role, but he comes off smug, lacking charm or naivete. Winick thinks he's elevating this craven premise by having Oscar speak French to a waiter at Boulud and quote Voltaire.
It's a smarmy, self-satisfied version of what used to be called "Tired Businessman's Theater." Here, it takes the form of a Sundance No-Brainer an indie movie, trendily and cheaply shot on video (this is another deplorable InDigEnt presentation), and calculated to get dirty laughs and big box office. His big head and little head don't battle conscience for even a nanosecond.ĭespite its high-tone pretense, Tadpole simply diverts the currently proliferating teen sex comedy away from the exuberance of youth?and the liberating honesty of juvenile bad taste?toward the earlier, less defensible, formerly moribund genre of Broadway's adult boulevard comedy. Prep-school genius Oscar (Aaron Stanford) comes home to his father's luxury New York apartment for Thanksgiving break, intending to seduce his stepmother Eve (Weaver) between reading chapters of Candide. (And Otter's devil/angel moral battle was recognizable, thus hilarious.) But Tadpole tries to pass off a stink bomb as a character study. There might never have been a genre of teen sex comedy if the 1978 success of National Lampoon's Animal House had not given big-screen, mainstream sanction to fratboy vulgarity, but at least its context was appropriate. It's a sign of Tadpole's moral and artistic wretchedness. Actually it's a distracting technical glitch due to director Gary Winick's inelegant, unfortunate video-to-film transfer, but the hideous blotch suggests something ugly and unclean is before us. Since this isn't a Farrelly brothers movie, it's neither a funny nor subversive sight.
Sigourney Weaver's got a blue booger glowing in her nostril during one of Tadpole's big scenes. A Delicate Balance Directed by Tony Richardson
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