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The Department of Home Affairs acknowledges the Traditional Custodians of Country throughout Australia and their continuing connection to land, sea and community. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, their cultures and to their elders past, present and emerging.
The legend’s latest comedy/drama Rules Don’t Apply [**½ out of four; rated PG-13; in theaters nationwide Wednesday] is refreshingly old-school, revisiting an era where Tinseltown trysts were mainly on the down-low and industry titan Howard Hughes was not cool with workplace romance. But the writer/producer/director/star’s first film in 15 years struggles with its tone and is a solid if unspectacular effort, though Beatty smartly takes a supporting role to the youngsters by playing the kookily eccentric Hughes.
Beatty doesn’t even show up until a half-hour in. By then, we’ve met the starry-eyed protagonists: Marla Mabrey [Lily Collins] is a small-town Virginia virgin and ex-beauty queen who arrives in 1958 Los Angeles with dreams of becoming an iconic actress under her new boss Hughes, and Frank Forbes [Alden Ehrenreich] is her driver, a California kid harboring big real estate plans but also a fiancée [Taissa Farmiga] back home in Fresno.
Is Warren Beatty's new movie headed for awards season?
Frank and Marla find a common ground in faith and sparks fly early. However, Hughes’ rule that employees can’t have a relationship with contract actresses — which senior driver Levar Mathis [Matthew Broderick] constantly reminds Frank — gets in the way of their romance, then Hughes himself becomes a leather-clad roadblock for the pair.
Ehrenreich shows off a huge amount of charm from the start [enough where you see why he was cast as young Han Solo], though Collins showcases hers gradually over the course of the movie, as Marla has her innocence chipped away. [She also has a pretty singing voice, one that bewitches Hughes.] The youngsters don’t spend as much time together as you’d hope: Personal issues have Marla reconsidering her life apart from Frank, while he gets embroiled in Hughes’ tumultuous business dealings.
Beatty is entertainingly weird as Hughes, nailing the rich man’s storied idiosyncrasies: skulking around in the shadows, not wanting to meet with an increasingly frustrated businessman [Oliver Platt], sharing hamburgers with Frank in front of his airplane and having TV dinners in an expensive bungalow with Marla. He has great chemistry with both Ehrenreich and Collins, though Beatty’s character, while fun to watch, tends to slow down the plot in key places.
The filmmaker has rounded up an impressive supporting cast, recruiting his wife, Annette Bening [as Marla’s uptight mom], plus Candice Bergen, Martin Sheen, Ed Harris and Dabney Coleman. Broderick really shines in this group of big-screen stalwarts — his Levar acts as the voice of reason for Frank amid Hughes’ stormy sea of crazy.
Meet your new Han Solo, Alden Ehrenreich
Beatty is as confident and stylish a filmmaker as he was on Dick Tracy, Reds and his other directorial efforts, but Rules just never comes together as it should. The goofy comedy doesn’t jibe with the more serious themes of religion, family, teen pregnancy and casual sexism [a product of the time], and the shifting relationship dynamics between Marla, Frank and Hughes complicate matters.
But what Beatty does best is surround himself with a wealth of talent for a breezy affair that hits a retro sweet spot.
Rules Don’t Apply, set mostly in late 1950s Los Angeles, is a fantasia, a fictional portrait of an eccentric genius in the later years of his life, with a jumbled love story folded in. That love story involves a young go-fer on the Hughes payroll, Frank Forbes [Alden Ehrenreich, previously seen as the charming rope-twirling cowboy in Hail, Caesar!], and Marla Mabrey [Lily Collins, of Mirror Mirror], a beauty queen who dreams of being an actress. Marla has been brought to Los Angeles by Hughes, to join a stable of similar young lovelies that he keeps around for his own amusement—if, that is, he even deigns to emerge from his lair and meet them.
Marla and her cohorts are put up in fancy apartments—Marla shares hers, for a time, with her upstanding Baptist mom, played by an amusingly virtuous Annette Bening—and provided with acting lessons, the better to fuel their naive, girlish dreams. Hughes, by this point in his late 50s and having dipped into aviation entrepreneurship, film producing, real-estate acquisitions, and flying [and crashing] planes, is happy to let these women believe they just might land a studio contract. [Never mind that the studio system was well on its way out by that time.] That way, he has a fresh pool of youthful female companionship at all times. Frank’s job is to drive Marla around Los Angeles as needed, with the caveat that he must never touch her.
Naturally, that temptation is impossible to resist. But when Marla is finally granted an audience with Hughes—their first, shadowy meeting involves his-and-hers TV dinners set out on folding trays—she becomes childishly infatuated with him, and he, in his weird, pseudo-adolescent way, with her. Frank is stuck between loyalty to his employer—whom he’s barely even met—and a flirtation with a girl who could end up being his true love.
Beatty lets the twists and turns of this odd triangular relationship meander too freely. The movie has a breezy, stylized, penny-candy look, but it’s overlong and misshapen, too often rambling out of Beatty’s grasp. But whenever Beatty’s Hughes appears, the movie perks up temporarily. As Hughes—stammering, reticent, flummoxed by most human contact, but also at times awkwardly endearing—Beatty is like a warped-mirror version of John McCabe, the character he played in Robert Altman’s great, wintry western McCabe and Mrs. Miller. McCabe was a shambling secret romantic [“I’ve got poetry in me!”] in a bearskin coat. Beatty’s Hughes is similarly vulnerable, though far more egotistical. But both men are lost and confused in their respective landscapes—and Beatty locates the cracked, lonely lyricism in both of them.