We need more directors willing to take risks with films like Get Out.
If Nancy Meyers ever decided to dabble in gothic romance, it probably would turn out to be something like "The Face of Love".
The filmmaker, Hollywood's premier purveyor of onscreen décor porn who specializes in chronicling the humorous fantasy lives of the rich and heartbroken in such hits as "Something's Gotta Give" and "It's Complicated", would be right in her glossy wheelhouse amid the well-appointed domiciles on display in this Los Angeles-based outing.
She likely would also approve of the tasteful professions of the two central characters: A house stager hired by realtors to make empty abodes feel cozy and an adjunct art professor who paints large, sun-lit portraits. The casual-chic, over-50 garb worn by the leads would definitely pass muster, too.
But style is easy. Substance is hard. Even Meyers might be stymied by what to do with the all-too-convenient twists and turns of this morbidly warped melodramatic story about a grief-stricken, middle-aged widow who decides to take a second chance on love with a man who is the spitting image of her late husband. Certainly, "The Face of Love"'s actual director Arie Posin, is hard-pressed to turn the repercussions of what is essentially a ghoulishly despicable act of deception into something that an audience would want to witness—let alone feel sympathy about its clearly doomed outcome.