You can run . . .
J-Lo rocks combat boots. And it is truly a wonderful moment
when she laces on a pair of steel-toed kicks in preparation to
beat down her abusive husband in Michael Apted's Enough.
Unfortunately, you have to sit through a lot of awkward plotting
to get to it.
First, Slim (Jennifer Lopez) is a waitress with her pal Ginny
(Juliette Lewis, who actually looks like she might work in a
diner, unlike Lopez), with Sheryl Crow's "All I Wanna Do" on the
soundtrack. Slim is so great, she calls customers by name and
leans down to pick up a child's toy when it's fallen on the
floor. Within a few minutes, she meets a suspicious character
who shows up with a rose for her, one Robbie (Noah Wyle). She's
about to fall for it, when she's warned away by another guy in
the next booth, Mitch (Billy Campbell), who says Robbie's trying
to "get in [her] pants" on a $200 bet. Hmmph. Slim is annoyed
enough that her judgment is impaired, and she dates the
eminently and immediately creepy Mitch instead. Or maybe her
judgment isn't impaired; maybe she really is as clueless as she
seems at this moment.
Cut to series of wedding photos, under a feeble cover of "This
Guy's In Love With You," and the wedding party. She's radiant,
he's super-rich, and you find out by way of leaden exposition
(courtesy of writer Nicholas Kazan) that her dad abandoned her
when she was young and she's distrustful of men but desperate to
be "safe." Again, this might be a way to explain away her
terrible judgment, but if she's been so picky before Mitch, why
fall for his line? Perhaps it's because he's a billionaire,
apparently through his work as a contractor. He appears at a
worksite wearing a hardhat for about 20 seconds, but other than
that, the film offers no clue how he's made his money. He's rich
and he's bad. What else do you need to know?
Well, for one thing, it might be useful to know what Slim
thinks she's doing. There are plenty of early signs that this
guy is not in love with her, but with himself, signs to which
she remains willfully ignorant. Just so, Mitch and pregnant
wifey are driving along a tree-lined street, when he pulls up to
a house that she has apparently admired (you don't see that
part: you only see the creepy part). Mitch knocks on the door
and offers a whopping big check to the guy who answers. It's not
for sale, he whimpers. "I'm very determined," grins/threatens
Mitch, with his back to Slim, who smiles obliviously and pats
her round tummy. The homeowner, meanwhile, looks alarmed and
unsettled, and abruptly agrees to sell (in other words, this
total stranger can spot what she cannot). Cut to post-birth
scene, where Slim lies sweaty in her hospital bed and Mitch
cuddles the infant, wholly ignoring his wife. She frowns,
briefly, then settles back to smile and watch him be a good dad.
Her child grows up to be the predictably precocious Gracie
(Tessa Allen), and suddenly, Slim gets a clue, noting that Mitch
is not paying attention (the man turns down a shower with J-Lo:
what is he thinking?). Trying to distract herself, maybe,
she cooks a few meals, then one night, in the kitchen, she
answers his pager and hears a woman's voice. Gadzooks! He's a
wily cad! And when Slim confronts him, he cops to all of it,
insisting that this is the way it is, because he's a man and men
have different needs than women. Her husband is a psychopath and
somehow she's missed it all these years. Plus, he makes the
money around here, so she'll shut up and take it, because, he
says, "it's my rules." Cue menacing music.
The other detail in this arrangement according to Mitch is that
he gets to beat Slim whenever he wants to. She's surely not
pleased with any of this, but learns quickly that there's no way
out. Just in case you're not paying attention (and there's all
kinds of reasons that you might not be), the film lays out its
narrative points in intertitles between major scenes: "How They
Met," "More Than Enough," "You Can Run." But, well, you know
what you can't do.
Still, poor Slim tries. She has another 80 minutes or so to
fill until she gets to put on those boots and kick Mitch's
pathetic ass. Ginny and a few friends help her escape one night,
but, quelle surprise, he closes down all her credit
cards. When she finally settles into a motel room, he calls and
is able to quote back to her her last bit of conversation with
Gracie. "It's the information age," he says, by way of
explanation, though it doesn't rally explain how he has so very
much information on her.
At first, she goes to obvious hiding places, like the Seattle
home of an ex-boyfriend, Joe (Dan Futterman, too charming to be
wasted in this role). After exchanging some pleasantries and
getting a shower, their idyll is busted up by a trio of thugs
posing as FBI. Slim decides she's tired of putting everyone she
loves in danger and asks the advice of a lawyer (Bill Cobbs),
who has a two minute scene during which he informs her that,
because she's never reported the abuse, she's "screwed," and
Campbell will likely kill her. How helpful.
You can see why she gets a little gonzo in her efforts to rid
herself of this scourge. One of her more desperate moves -- one
that pays off handsomely, for her and you -- is to track down
her long-absent, much-estranged, super-wealthy, and apparently
unloved dad, whose name is, inexplicably and joyously, Jupiter
(Fred Ward, who is terrific, as always, juicing up the precious
few minutes he's on screen). He dismisses her at first ("from
'68 to '72, I had like 5 kids..."), then decides to send her
wads o' cash when that same trio of thugs comes a-calling after
she's gone. Any girl who's been able to rile up such assholes
is, apparently, a-okay by him.
Jupiter's cash flow is most excellent. And she spends it
wisely, on a new house, some booby traps, Krav Maga martial arts
lessons, an extra escape vehicle, and some extremely high tech
gadgets she uses to rig a big showdown with Mitch. This
elaborate preparation scene recalls Nancy getting ready to face
off with Freddy Krueger, except Slim's devices are far more
elaborate and expensive than buckets and axes. He deserves his
punishment, no doubt, but it's a tedious and predictable
process. At least she does the boot thing.
— 23 May 2002
