Adapting John Irving for the screen is never easy. His remarkable stories effortlessly fuse comedy and drama, often with a delightful sense of the absurd, too. Translating that unique style to film, however, rarely is successful.
In "The Door in the Floor," screenwriter/director Tod Williams doesn't quite know what he wants his film to be. Adapting the first third of Irving's work, Williams can't decide on whom he should focus. Is his film about Ted (Jeff Bridges) and Marion (Kim Basinger)? Or, Ted and Eddie (Jon Foster)? Or, Eddie and Marion? Or, Ted and Marion and their daughter, Ruth (Elle Fanning)? What Williams tries to do is make everyone the focus; his story never quite gels and his film winds up emotionally barren and dramatically flat.
While Williams pours on the symbolism - he isn't subtle about this - he avoids turning his film into melodramatic mishmash. But he's desperately trying to find the ideal balance between the comic and serious and his film flaps unsuccessfully in-between.
When he opts for serious drama, he turns to Marion's despair. But Williams treats her superficially. He has Basinger spending much of the film staring blankly out at the ocean or solemnly walking along the shore or sitting glumly in her car. When she speaks, it's in a somber monotone. We never learn much about her or what makes her tick for Williams never bothers to delve into Marion's deeply conflicted and emotionally shattered persona.
That Basinger, quite possibly the fantasy of many, if not all, men, plays her seductress with a convincing vulnerability proves her abundant talent. Too bad she was given such a woefully underwritten role.
Bridges, on the other hand, fits perfectly into Ted. He's genial when he wants to be, loving when he needs to be and always keeps a glimmer of menace lurking just beneath his affable exterior. When he warns Eddie, "I'm going to grind you like a fine powder," we can imagine Eddie's dread. It's a compelling, intelligent and enjoyable performance by Bridges, proving, yet again, why he's one of our most engaging performers.
When Williams tries for comedy, he goes overboard. He turns a tantrum scene toward the end into a farcical slapstick routine that not only seems out of place, but also makes it clear he's trying too hard to be funny. Much of the film's been so cheerless that he just cannot find the right tone for this scene.
The film's finest moment happens not between Ted and Marion or Eddie and Marion, but between Eddie and the owner of a picture-framing store. Here, the actors and Williams finally find the perfect balance between poignant drama and comedy. It not only hints at what Williams is capable of as a screenwriter, but also lets us imagine how wonderful this film could have been.