"Mostly Martha" is a semisweet film overcooked to a bitter aftertaste. The movie is the story of Martha Klein (Martina Gedeck), a neurotic and willful master chef left to care for her troubled niece after a car accident. Her anxieties are compounded by the presence of Mario (Sergio Castellitto), an eccentric sous-chef with a penchant for Martha's secret saffron sauce.
Martha's primary concern is with her inability to properly care for her niece as she tries to find the girl's father, a mysterious Italian named Giuseppe about whom Martha is able to gain information based principally on his name. She also feels threatened by Mario, whom she sees as trying to steal her kitchen. Mario, as it turns out, is as kindly and innocent a chef as one can find and merely wishes to work with one of his idols.
The film is the first feature-length work by acclaimed German writer-director Sandra Nettelback, who has crafted a sorrowful story of a woman's inability to manage her own life. To those who would be deceived, be aware: despite advertisements promoting the film as a romantic comedy, 80 percent of the story is devoted to Martha's relationship with her niece, played particularly well by Maxime Foerste, who brings to mind Victorie Thivsol's tortured frown in "Ponette." For a supposed 'feel- good' movie, I left the theater feeling pretty miserable.
The aforementioned contrast of genres (romantic comedy vs. family drama) creates the film's two biggest problems -- indeterminate pacing and an uneasy smorgasbord of contrasting tones. The stories could potentially work independently, but both feel inappropriate in the context of the other.
That said, the separate plotlines aren't flawless either. The aunt-niece relationship is at times too strained, creating a vulgar perfunctory melodrama of contemptible glances rather than a real attempt at human interaction. The film's long takes and sloppy editing, especially in scenes concerning Miss Foerste, make for a meandering narrative.
The intrusive score of smooth jazz by David Darling accompanies three seperate scenes in which various characters cook. It seems at times as if the film editor let Darling's inappropriately cheerful music guide the film itself, leading to obnoxious and tedious fades and dissolving in situations where, for the sake of pacing and simple continuity, cuts would suffice.
The cast is mostly competent in their roles, though only one actor particularly stands out. Castellitto, who looks like Serge Gainsbourg after a 40 of Jack Daniels, plays Mario as alternately annoying and endearing and, ultimately, succeeds at both. Mario is delightful, a man so passionate about his work, his jazz music and his life that he acts as a perfect foil to the staid Martha. Castellitto's energy single-handedly keeps the film from sinking during its laboriously paced second act. Unfortunately, with only a relatively small fraction of the film devoted to his character, his romance with Martha seems rushed and unnatural.
Gedeck, Martha herself, delivers a skilled, if ambiguous performance, oscillating between emotional and reserved at the drop of a hat. Gedeck won the Lola (the German equivalent of the Oscar) for her performance, largely because of her ability to do chameleonic work. She works nicely as a backbone for a movie in search of meat.
One area in which the film succeeds triumphantly is in its cinematography. Michael Bertl creates a static, ingeniously rigid world for "Martha," but slowly saturates the celluloid with warm and inviting earth tones. In its final scenes, the film rewards patient viewers with sun-splashed beauty and yet another cooking montage.
Thankfully, "Mostly Martha" keeps the obligatory food-as-passion metaphors to a minimum, and actually uses the imagery of gourmet food equivocally -- symbolic of both Martha and Mario's simmering romance and of Martha's rigidly structured take on life.
"Mostly Martha" has just enough charm in its performances to get by -- almost. Ultimately, there's no substance to back up its conceits and peculiarities. Late in the film, one character symbolically says to another, "I wish I had a recipe for you that I could follow." Perhaps if Nettelback had ventured away from the easier recipes for melodrama and romantic comedy, her final product would have turned out more satisfying.
