Review: The Brass Teapot (2012)

By Ronan Doyle

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Cast: Juno Temple, Michael Angarano, Alexis Bledel
Director: Ramaa Mosley
Country: USA
Genre: Comedy | Fantasy | Thriller
Official Trailer: Here


Editor’s Notes: The Brass Teapot opens in limited release today, April 5th. If you’ve already seen the film we’d love to hear your thoughts on it, or if you’re looking forward to seeing it this weekend, please tell us in the comments section below or in our new Next Projection Forums.

That all-too-brief moment, caught between the first shriek of the alarm clock and the unwelcome exit from the bed, is the daily highlight for the ravenously enamoured young newlyweds Alice and John. Their love is as clear and pervasive as is their fiscal difficulty, both of which equally drive The Brass Teapot, Ramaa Mosley’s feature debut and an expansion of her earlier short of the same name. It’s a pertinent parable of a film, using the universal idyll of young love as a path to a comic exploration of the desperation of working class America, with Alice’s discovery of the titular object: a magic antiquity that showers hard cash on its owners every time they incur physical pain. It’s a timely moral quandary to pose, and one rife with comedic potential: what damage would you inflict upon yourself and those you love to solve your financial woes?

This last action, the arrival of a maudlin score is keen to inform us, is indicative of a more painful underlying dramatic conflict. The musical cue is necessary: like its overwrought comedy, none of the film’s interpersonal tension ever manages to arrive from the story itself.

brass3There are endless antics as various rednecks and Chinamen of the stock character variety arrive to claim the teapot as their own, none of which equate to half as much fun as they should. Tim Macy, whose first feature script is the basis of the film, extracts the bulk of the scenario’s comedy in slapstick form. It’s almost remarkable just how many of the film’s 101 minutes are spent with the couple variously slapping, whipping, spanking, burning, kicking, and—when they learn the teapot’s purview extends to emotional abuse—insulting each other. This last action, the arrival of a maudlin score is keen to inform us, is indicative of a more painful underlying dramatic conflict. The musical cue is necessary: like its overwrought comedy, none of the film’s interpersonal tension ever manages to arrive from the story itself.

Mosley is fortunate to have found leads as willing as Juno Temple and Michael Angarano, relatively fearless young performers who subject themselves to scenes that demand much more of them than they earn in return. Unconvinced by the drama, the mind wanders to their motivations as they find themselves at the centre of gags as strangely crude as they are tragically unfunny: she clad in leather demanding to be paddled, he dangling tampons from the nostrils of a bloodied nose, we might be tempted to try to recognise in their eyes the precise moment they recognise their indignity. There’s little else of interest to lend thought to as the movie winds on, trading yet more and more potential for the closest cheap gag at every turn.

Unconvinced by the drama, the mind wanders to their motivations as they find themselves at the centre of gags as strangely crude as they are tragically unfunny: she clad in leather demanding to be paddled, he dangling tampons from the nostrils of a bloodied nose, we might be tempted to try to recognise in their eyes the precise moment they recognise their indignity.

brass4Temple and Angarano may be the biggest casualties of the film’s shameful wastefulness, but they are far from its only. There are supporting roles for familiar television talent the like of Jack McBrayer, Alia Shawkat, and Matt Walsh; each a cornerstone of their respective shows—30 Rock, Arrested Development, Veep—they are given little more to do here than to facilitate the ever-deepening silliness of the story, none even offered so much as a comic line. Then there is cinematographer Peter Simonite, who counts The Tree of Life and To the Wonder amongst his most recent credits. His brightly colourful compositions at least mimic the film’s airy tone in its visual style, but so little of his talent is allowed to manifest itself in the straightforward shooting Mosley elects to employ in every scene. Each of these contributors works with the utmost professionalism, their efforts engaged for little better than to take us on a journey with characters who seem to learn very little, either about themselves or life at large. That’s not so much the problem as is the reality that nor do we.

It is evidently a different film in the minds of its makers than in the eyes of the viewer; Angarano has compared it to—strangely—Blue Valentine, and—alarmingly—Scenes from a Marriage. Bergman was arguably the greatest chronicler of human interaction the cinema has yet seen; it’s not to damn The Brass Teapot to say that it can only fantasise of being in the same league: the same is true of the great majority of films. With its reductive caricatures, its abrasive assurance, and its inability to investigate with any depth the issues it brings to bear, the only Bergman film this calls to mind—and not as a point of comparison—is From the Life of the Marionettes. Angarano and Temple are as marionettes in Mosley’s earnest puppet show, crudely carved in vaguely recognisable human shape, but soon mishandled, their wires hopelessly entangled.

40/100 ~ BAD. The Brass Teapot takes us on a journey with characters who seem to learn very little, either about themselves or life at large. That’s not so much the problem as is the reality that nor do we.
Senior Editor and Film Critic. Having spent the vast majority of my life sharing in the all too prevalent belief than cinema is merely dumbed-down weekend escapism for the masses, I was lucky enough to turn on a television at the exact right moment to have my perspectives on the medium completely transformed. Those first two and a half hours marked the beginning of a new life revolving around—maybe even depending upon—the screen and the depth of artistry, intellectual stimulation, and emotional exhilaration it can provide.
  • Daniel Tucker

    Damn. Really hoped this would be a little gem.

  • http://www.facebook.com/people/Chris-D-Misch/28134555 Chris D. Misch

    Me too actually. Trailer showed some promised.