Rock's 'Wife' is not a marriage made in heaven
Chris Rock's comedy "I Think I Love My Wife" is based on Eric Rohmer's 1972 study of fidelity, "Chloe in the Afternoon," the last and least of the French director's six moral tales. It's an inspired stretch for the comedian; if only the movie were as stinging as his stand-up. "Wife" is more alert than the first film Rock directed, the mild political satire "Head of State," but its failure is fascinating, almost willful.
Rock, who wrote the film with Louis C.K. , plays Richard Cooper, a Manhattan investment banker and father of two who's bored with his suburban life. The sex is gone from his marriage to a schoolteacher named Brenda (Gina Torres ), and his primary outlet for that frustration is sexual fantasy. In his narration, he rhapsodizes about the beauties he sees on the commuter train, in the park, and on the streets. He dreams of being single and all the lewd ways he could tell a strange woman he'd like to have sex.
He wants to cheat, but presumably the opportunity hasn't fully presented itself. Then suddenly it does, in the body and spirit of Nikki Tru , whom Kerry Washington plays as a mysterious aperitif of fun, danger, ditsy elegance, and desperation. The character has no real human traits. She's a figment turned nuisance. But Washington gives her a degree of depth that I wish a filmmaker would really do something with. The actress is capable of so much more than looking scrumptious.
Nikki shares a first name -- and more -- with the temptress of a certain vulgar Prince classic. Bodaciously attired (her sleeveless red dress with the empire waist is a stunner) and frequently paired with a cigarette, Nikki would seem to be the ideal opportunity for Richard to alleviate his frustration. Yet, he doesn't. Instead, they just hang out.
Recently back in New York, Nikki is the long-ago ex of an old friend, and her life appears to be a mess. Her every inexplicable visit to Richard's office brings skepticism from his co-workers (including a sleazy Steve Buscemi), and new requests for favors. Richard, can you write me a job recommendation? Can you help me look for an apartment? Can you help pack up my old place? (This requires a last-minute trip to D.C.)
The idea seems to be that Nikki is a blessing and a curse. One minute she's getting Richard to trade iPods with her (she loves the Foo Fighters). The next, she's getting him beat up by her current ex (Michael K. Williams , Omar Little from the most recent season of "The Wire"), and nearly fired from work. She's a nut.
Brenda the wife, meanwhile, is left to wonder what's gotten into her husband. He's using the N-word around the kids and playing air guitar in the living room. Suddenly, it's like Rock is redoing the Kevin Spacey part in "American Beauty."
But the film isn't about the angst of middle age or the stress of a marriage on the fritz, not really. Nor is it a remake of Rohmer's marital delicacy so much as a correction. Men don't choose not to have sex with women, Rock's movie says. Women chose not to have sex with men, and this makes men crazy. Rohmer was fairer to the wife in his movie. Torres is good in Rock's, but the part requires her to be prim enough to make Richard feel naughty in the presence of Washington's freak.
"I Think I Love My Wife" is actually a long version of Rock's great bit about old sex versus new: "New [sex]," for instance, "is illiterate!" The point of that joke is, love the one you're already with. Of course, to get to that in the movie we have to sit through one absurd Viagra sequence (Richard's unstoppable erection requires an ambulance) and a trippy song Rock and Torres lip-synch to each other.
Rock could be making movies as culturally sharp about love's vicissitudes as Woody Allen or Albert Brooks . Lord knows he has Allen's same knack for whimsy and Brooks's exasperated wit. Surely, there must be a dozen little urban satires, vivid social X-rays of black America, or painfully funny essays on the nature of all things extramarital lurking in this man. Despite the trappings, "I Think I Love My Wife" isn't one of them.
The movie, instead, is a work of giddy self-sabotage that seems determined to matter and not matter at the same time. For every perceptive observation about marriage (one dinner sequence about the sad social fate of married buppies is outstanding), there are two knowingly atrocious ones that feel like scenes from C.K. and Rock's cult-classic blaxploitation gag, "Pootie Tang ." It's Rock's prerogative to goof off, but he's too smart to just throw scenes at the camera. Richard thinks he loves his wife. Rock appears to think he loves filmmaking. How many more of these indifferent exercises until he knows for sure?
Wesley Morris can be reached at wmorris@globe.com. For more on movies, go to boston.com/ae/movies/blog.
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