Xavier Dolan's 'The Death and Life of John F. Donovan' [TIFF Review]

Xavier Dolan is not yet 30 years old and has already assembled an enviable filmography – six features as a director, most of which he wrote himself, in addition to credits as actor, editor, and costume designer. His latest, “The Death and Life of John F. Donovan,” marks his English-language debut, and his most impressive cast to date (including Natalie Portman, Jacob Tremblay, Kit Harington, Susan Sarandon, Thandie Newton, and Bella Thorne). His films are, in this critic’s observation, divisive; he tends to be a love-him-or-hate-him sort of proposition. And ‘John F. Donovan’s not likely to change anyone’s mind.

It tells two stories in parallel, separated by the Atlantic John Donovan (Herrington) is a handsome, successful American actor, star of a CW-ish television show. Across the pond, Rupert Turner (Tremblay) is an eleven-year-old schoolboy and Donovan’s biggest fan. The boy writes Donovan a fan letter, and to his surprise and delight, the actor responds; thus begins a correspondence. They have much in common: complicated relationships with their mothers, a love of acting, and their sexuality, which they each keep to themselves, for the usual reasons. They exchanged those letters for five years until scandal wrecked Donovan’s career, and his body was discovered in his apartment, dead at 29.

And then those stories are surrounded by the insipid framework of a combative interview, conducted by snooty reporter Audrey Newhouse (Newton) with the ten-years-older Rupert (played in these scenes by Ben Schnetzer), who has turned the letters to and from Donovan into a book. This entire piece of narrative scaffolding is embarrassing, a method for clumsily stating the film’s themes as plainly as possible; the Serious Journalist dismisses Donovan’s troubles as “just mishaps from the first world.” But no, Rupert insists: “This is a story about intolerance… this is about us, as a society.” Yeah. You get the idea.

The performers do their best. Natalie Portman, as young Rupert’s single mom, keys in on the character’s frustration and humor, and works out from there; to his credit, Dolan writes her a lovely speech about what drives her, and most mothers (“I will always be afraid of seeing you hurt”). Tremblay is a lot — Dolan’s protagonist/surrogates have an unfortunate tendency towards obnoxiousness, read into that what you will — but he has his moments. And Harrington makes Donovan’s struggle palpable, and often heartbreaking.

But this is a script where, in scene after scene, all the seams are showing. Kathy Bates cuts right through most of her scenes as Donovan’s manager, but even she’s saddled with a monologue that stops the movie cold so she can espouse her life philosophy and biography. Michael Gambon appears late in the movie out of absolutely nowhere, as some magical diner guy, because Dolan can’t figure how else to convey John’s inner monologue. Sarandon’s scenes are pure soap camp, with the Oscar winner splashing booze around as his gin-soaked mom, while the rest of the family airs their grievances at top volume.

And yet it’s impossible to dismiss Dolan out of hand because he’s clearly capable of orchestrating his actors and action. There’s a big, rainy reunion scene between little Rupert and his mother that’s beautifully assembled but simply not supported; it seems comically overwrought because it comes at the end of what we’re assured, in the text, is a not-terribly-dangerous day trip. His camerawork is often snazzy, and he knows how to use sound to his advantage – the energetic opening credits, accompanied by Adele’s “In the Deep,” give the picture a real charge, and the way he tunes out the dialogue when John decides a date has ended is masterful. (That said, Gabriel Yared’s score wants to be “Magnolia”’s so bad, Jon Brion may have a case for plagiarism.)

‘John F. Donovan’’s representational value is worth noting — although honestly, it’s much more a film about queerness than a film that’s particularly queer itself — and the portrait it paints, of navigating the entertainment business from inside the closet, is convincing and compelling. But every time Dolan generates a head of steam, he’s betrayed by his script, by the self-conscious formality of the dialogue, or the clunkiness of the structure. It’s become abundantly clear that Xavier Dolan has the passion, and much of the skill set, of a noteworthy director. It’s also become clear that if he wants to fulfill that promise, he has to start working with a better screenwriter than Xavier Dolan. [C-]

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