New York Times review:
The movie itself is just okay (to "pretty good"), but the cinemetography in this one is stunning, IMO. It's worth it just for that.In 'Avalon,' a Journey to Baltimore and a Family's Dissolution
[size=-1] By JANET MASLIN [/size]
LEAD: IN the fond overflowing family album that is Barry Levinson's ''Avalon,'' the prevailing symbol of both unity and discord is a Thanksgiving turkey. Or a ''toikey,'' as the participants put it, since the Krichinskys are an immigrant Jewish family in Baltimore and their every bantering, nit-picking conversation carries hints of the Old World. IN the fond overflowing family album that is Barry Levinson's ''Avalon,'' the prevailing symbol of both unity and discord is a Thanksgiving turkey. Or a ''toikey,'' as the participants put it, since the Krichinskys are an immigrant Jewish family in Baltimore and their every bantering, nit-picking conversation carries hints of the Old World.
As relative newcomers, the Krichinskys still regard this quintessentially American holiday bird as something suspect. Yet Thanksgiving and Independence Day have become important family holidays, occasions the film chooses to romanticize. Its Fourth of July celebrations are filled with exuberant, soaring fireworks that harken back to Sam Krichinsky's first promise-filled glimpses of America in 1914. Thanksgiving dinners, initially warm and populous family occasions, eventually become reminders of rootlessness and loss.
Thanksgivings come to illustrate just how far certain segments of this family have traveled beyond the hard work and simplicity of those early years, when paperhanging was Sam and his brothers' occupation. ''It's not important for you to know how to wallpaper, because you should never do this in your life,'' Sam later tells Michael, his young grandson.
By then, the Thanksgiving celebration has moved away from the Baltimore row houses where the story began, and out to a stately suburban neighborhood that is ''too far for relatives,'' at least in some of the Krichinskys' estimation. One year, a dispute over the long trip and the carving of a turkey leads Sam's brother to declare furiously, ''You might as well have stabbed me in the heart.''
''Avalon,'' which spans five decades and takes its title from a rosy vision of Sam's first Baltimore neighborhood, is Mr. Levinson's attempt to paint on a much broader canvas than that of ''Diner'' or ''Tin Men,'' his two other gently nostalgic films set in Baltimore. Nonetheless, he again works on an intimate scale. It results in a generous and touching film that is essentially smaller than its own sweeping ambitions, a crowded and skillfully drawn landscape from which no oversize figures emerge. Affection and memory are the forces that give ''Avalon'' its vibrancy, but they are also its limitations.
Mr. Levinson, who wrote and directed the film, sees all the sweetness and poignancy of the events depicted here, but he does not see them from much of a distance. As is often the case with autobiographical fiction, some occurrences are assumed to have dramatic value simply because they occurred. So the Krichinsky story will chiefly speak to those whose family experiences akin to those that ''Avalon'' examines. To them, though, it will speak loud and clear.
Mr. Levinson's storytelling, which is heavily anecdotal, captures the wishful and changeable nature of family lore. The early stories of how Sam (Armin Mueller-Stahl) first arrived stateside are repeated over and over, argued about tirelessly by Sam's entertainingly difficult wife, Eva (Joan Plowright), and his cantankerous brothers.
These memories, and those of Jules (Aidan Quinn), Sam's son, have the ring of nostalgic authenticity, as when Jules recalls his father's and uncles' excitement when their own patriarch finally followed them to America. ''The father, the father,'' Jules recalls, as the camera watches a tiny old man disembark from an ocean liner. ''He's shorter than me, and I'm only 6.'' Mr. Levinson, with the cinematographer Allen Daviau, often represents the past visually in highly imaginative ways. Scenes depicting Sam's first days in America are shot in color yet speeded up slightly, to suggest scenes of the World War I era springing to life. In the panorama of family existence, a sheet spread to cover a newly deceased relative may abruptly become a tablecloth being used in a holiday celebration. The passage of time, especially in the film's last sections, is at times conveyed startlingly and to great effect. Meanwhile, the Krichinskys adapt and prosper and change their names. Soon Jules and his cousin Izzy (Kevin Pollak) are calling themselves Jules Kaye and Izzy Kirk. (''Who said names are supposed to be easy to say?'' Sam declares furiously. ''What are you, a candy bar?'').
After this, they venture into the discount-appliance business, starting out selling television sets to early customers. ''You can only watch for so long,'' says one of the typically pessimistic Krichinskys while studying a test pattern. ''To me it doesn't have what the radio has.'' Nonetheless, the cousins do well enough to move out to the suburbs, which in turn brings on more of the family's lovingly evoked squabbles.
The best of ''Avalon'' - which opens today at the Gemini Twin - is gently attuned to this family's love-hate relationship with its own past. In a suburban kitchen, two young wives listen confusedly as Yiddish-speaking relatives tell of casualties in the concentration camps, and then quietly try to decipher what has been said. A 1950's daughter-in-law tries to coexist with her husband's mother, but winds up complaining, ''I'd like to feel like the mom in my own house.'' An old man tells of revisiting his former home and not being able to find it, then being relieved to recognize a landmark. ''Thank God it was there,'' he says, ''because for a minute I thought I never was.''
''Avalon'' is warmly and broadly acted by a large cast, with Mr. Mueller-Stahl outstanding as the film's most touching figure and Miss Plowright wrapping her fulsome, funny accent around the screenplay's best lines. Would she like her daughter-in-law (Elizabeth Perkins) to drive her somewhere? ''No, I'll take a streetcar; it's on tracks,'' she replies with a little shrug. Also expansively good are Lou Jacobi as the brother who resents Sam and uses a turkey to say so, and Elijah Wood as a delightfully watchful, wide-eyed little boy.
The production design, by Norman Reynolds, is very handsome but sometimes a shade too grand to be convincing. Mr. Daviau's cinematography is filled with warm, deep tones that are well attuned to the action. The score is by Randy Newman, who also provided the music for ''Ragtime.'' Mr. Newman does this kind of thing beautifully.
''Avalon'' is rated PG (''Parental Guidance Suggested''). It has mildly rude language.
Avalon
Written and directed by Barry Levinson; director of photography, Allen Daviau; edited by Stu Linder; music by Randy Newman; production designer, Norman Reynolds; produced by Mark Johnson and Mr. Levinson; released by Tri-Star Pictures. At the Gemini Twin, Second Avenue at 64th Street. Running time: 127 minutes. This film is rated PG.
Hymie Krichinsky...Leo Fuchs
Dottie Kirk...Eve Gordon
Gabriel Krichinsky...Lou Jacobi
Sam Krichinsky...Armin Mueller-Stahl
Ann Kaye...Elizabeth Perkins
Eva Krichinsky...Joan Plowright
Izzy Kirk...Kevin Pollak
Jules Kaye...Aidan Quinn
Nathan Krichinsky...Israel Rubinek
Michael Kaye...Elijah Wood
