All the Wrong Places
A choice observation by one character in All the Wrong Places offers up not only a summary of this awkward indie comedy's plot, but also summarizes the movie's problems: "For a person who doesn't know what to do with their life, film is a beautiful thing. It takes a long time to figure out you're no good." In Wrong Places, Marissa (Ali Hillis), daughter of a famous painter, decides--pretty much at random--that she's going to become a filmmaker. Writer/director Martin Edwards is clearly aiming for some kind of Woody Allen-esque urban-neurosis territory but misses what makes Allen's movies work: There's a funny and strongly defined persona at the center of them. Marissa's fix on her world is hazy even for a young twentysomething, and her ill-fated attempts to get a film going, intended to make the viewer chuckle indulgently, are more likely to make him or her squirm with embarrassment for the screenwriter. (Memo to Edwards: Queer cinema may be hot, but no adult uses the term "AC/DC" unless they're referring to an Australian rock band.) Wrong Places shows glimmers of wit, but this story about callow youth suffers from an overdose of exactly that. At Shriver Hall, Johns Hopkins University April 15.