There is one thing abundantly clear before the end credits of Russell Brown’s feathery gabfest: international superstar Jaqueline Bisset maintains a voracious ability to command and carry an otherwise droll and meandering film, elevating it from a tedious exercise in whiny existentialism to a love letter for gracefully aging actresses brilliantly presented to them by one of their own. Loren & Rose owes the majority of its positive attributes to Bisset’s performance. She delivers in a substantive role with verve and energy, carrying the monologue driven conversational piece that seems to only exist to showcase her ability to command the screen. If that is the point of this light banter toothless melodrama, then it succeeded.
Loren & Rose invites us to play the role as spectators to a young filmmaker, Loren (Kelly Blatz), who has the opportunity to meet with a legendary actress, Rose (Bisset), to have her star in his feature directorial debut. We watch as they dine and converse about life and art. Forging a friendship, the film focuses on their conversations and meals as they build a bond over the course of their many encounters. Rose is presented as a woman who has embraced the beauty in her aging, extolling wisdom, wit and charm with abandon. The film makes use of one major location, the restaurant where the two meet on every occasion as they are served by the maitre’d Phil (Paul Sand), whose interactions with old friend Rose gives a much-needed distraction to the sulking affirmation seeking monologues attributed to young Loren.
The dynamics between the two leads tend not to matter. This film is a showcase for Bisset. Once you survive the somewhat baffling choice to have Loren’s voiceover narration and the quasi-Hallmark production value, finally settling into the conversations, Bisset’s performance as Rose commands your attention. Not only does the script favor her character, but the cinematography shows favoritism, framing Bisset with glowing undertones and soft edges, furthering the notion that cast and crew understood that they were on set for the purpose of celebrating Bisset and that she is the project’s greatest asset.
Loren & Rose offers little else. Blatz plays Loren confidently enough, but the character never has a moment to fully match the presence of Rose’s character. Loren is merely there to give us another topic or statement for Rose to respond to. The aforementioned narration also dampens Blatz’s performance. Where we should be respected as an audience to gauge the actor’s feelings through skill and craft, we’re told through emotionless “book on tape” delivery about how Loren feels or processed his encounters with Rose. The film stalls in its one-sidedness, and eventually the idea of this being a piece better fit for the stage or (better yet) a black box theatrical production starts to seep in. Bisset gives a great performance in a film that has no staying power. With so many films swirling through the ever-growing glut of streaming channels, Bisset’s triumphant asterisk of a performance may plunge into the depths of forgotten films as the accompanying material regrettably does not match her shine enough to command an audience.
Photo courtesy of Wise Lars
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