Prelude To A Kiss (1992) August 18, 2011

“The world is a really terrible place. It’s too…..precarious”

Based on the 1988 play by Craig Lucas and directed by Norman René, it tells the story of a straight-laced publishing employee Peter Hoskins (Alec Baldwin) who falls in love with free-wheeling, mildly ODC’d insomniac Rita Boyle (Meg Ryan). Upon their wedding, an elderly stranger (Sydney Walker) requests permission to kiss the bride. She acquiesces and, shortly after, suffers a dramatic personality change. A wary Peter sets about uncovering the truth, which turns out to be more outlandish than he could realise. Rita has switched bodies with the stranger, so Peter must find him and reverse the spell before it’s too late.

Prelude To A Kiss is bizarre, but not simply through its morbid approach to the normally light-hearted whimsy of body-swapping. Its oddness stems from the somewhat sparse directing choices and sincere handling of depression and (in the latter half of the movie) homosexuality, through the chosen medium of a romantic comedy starring Meg Ryan. Ryan had already suffered the career breakthrough of 1988′s When Harry Met Sally, transforming her from the supporting love-interest of action capers like Armed and Dangerous and Innerspace, to a rom-com fixture for the remainder of the 90′s. This subsequent success and its influence on Hollywood romance leads to a retroactive appraisal of her character here, becoming almost an earnest satire of the ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl‘ (all credit to Nathan Rabin) trope. What begins as a ‘Dharma and Greg’-ish free spirit colliding with an uptight Conservative, with all the potential malarkey that would entail, soon reveals a surprising emotional fidelity. Not only is Rita a long-term insomniac who suffers apocalyptic fantasies. She’s a ‘communist-socialist’ (this is an actual plot-point) and has no desire to bring children into such an appalling world. It’s still a sanitised portrayal of anything approaching mental illness, but rare for a character (or indeed a film) of this ilk to contain such existential ennui.

“At night I could feel the loneliness coming off both of us like heat…It was as if we had been married forever, suddenly, without the sex”

It’s a great cast, with the particular stand-outs being Meg Ryan and Sydney Walker. Both have the task of alternating between polar opposite characters, with a palpable shift in each of their demeanour. More so than perhaps any other film in her career, Ryan is genuinely lovable. Walker is frequently heartbreaking, particularly during a stand-out monologue detailing all the cumulative injustices and sadness of life. Alec Baldwin carries the weight of the story well, but has a gravelled intensity that largely alienates him from empathy, as though you’re actually watching his character from Glengarry Glen Ross. A stellar cast; comprising of Ned Beatty, Stanly Tucci, Patty Duke and Kathy Bates are rewarded with roughly two scenes of screen time each. It’s very much a sparse affair, from the competent direction to letting the economic, theatrical dialogue take centre stage. The mystical aspects of the plot are handled deftly, with just the right amount of incredulity and acceptance.

Craig Lucas’ play was very much intended as an A.I.D.S. allegory. Erstwhile happy couples faced an early future of frailty and physical degradation, as though suddenly partnered with an elderly equivalent, now mere months away from death. Director of both the play and adaptation, Norman René was a frequent collaborator with Lucas and sadly succumbed to complications related to the disease in 1996. Without being able to appreciate or compare both versions, it’s still an effective and moving parallel, albeit one tempered by its magnanimous finale. The film received mixed reviews and has largely eluded a decent cult following, leaving it a curiosity reserved for those chasing up the early 90′s of mainstream American cinema. What could have easily been saccharine and inert has enough emotional clout to justify its themes and portent.