Cherry

As a result of speed-reading the synopsis in our film guide, I walked into Stephen Elliot’s Cherry thinking that the movie was both a quirky indie film as well as set in the 70s. Both of these elements could have served this film well; but, unfortunately neither had anything to do with what I saw on the screen.

The main character, Angelina (played by Ashley Hinshaw and later to be known as Cherry) has a very predictable, very unoriginal story. Ange has a bad home life – alcoholic Mom, asshole stepdad - a shitty job, a platonic male friend who’s hopelessly in love with her and a douchebag older boyfriend who plays guitar in a band.

One morning, after a night of sex, stupidity and rock n’ roll with her beau, Angie Pie decides to go and take naked pictures with a local photographer in the San Fernando Valley for a whopping $300. Hinshaw does a respectable job creating a slight air of discomfort during most of the early porn-esque scenes. However, she needs to learn how to smoke cigarettes like a rebellious teen, or at least like someone who isn’t a first-time smoker.

All the obvious plotlines end up being too much for young Angelina, so she and her whipping boy/male friend Andrew (played by former “Slumdog” Dev Patel) head out to San Francisco to pursue their dreams. This is where, I would say, the movie went from below average to really bad.

To further his dorkiness and lower his chances of ever being more than Angelina’s friend, Andrew finds work at a bookstore. To further her sluttiness, Angie finds work serving drinks at a strip club. They both find a gay roommate named Paolo, but he adds nothing to the story. In order to keep things in scale, he will only be a blurb in my review.

Her new job provides ol’ Angelface with two things one shouldn’t obtain from a strip club: career advice and a cokehead boyfriend named Francis. I don’t know who convinced James Franco to play said boyfriend, but that person should reap whatever slim benefits result from this film.

Franco does a good job of his usual squinty-eyed charmer routine, but adds a dark edge to it, both when Francis is sober and high on coke. There is even one shot where Francis drinks a whiskey that Angelina has just spit in. Unless some serious camera tricks were used, I’ll be damned if Franco doesn’t actually drink that saliva cocktail.

The second benefit was, what else, a connection into the porn world from one of her “co-workers.” She then becomes “Cherry” and is welcomed with open legs into the adult film world by unlikeable porn director Margaret, played flatly by Heather Graham. The character Margaret is the biggest misfire of the film. Graham’s performance is mediocre at best, and Margaret is intended to be someone you eventually learn not to hate, though she has quite the opposite effect.

Graham’s Margaret begins obsessing over her new 18-year-old hire like an undersexed pervert and eventually loses her long-term girlfriend because of it. Yep, still hate her.  Angelina is totally indifferent towards Margaret until things go stereotypically wrong with both her cokehead boyfriend and her platonic sidekick. One gets in a serious car crash; the other is caught masturbating to one of her films. Who did what, you ask? Who cares?

Both incidents instantly cut off the two main plot lines that have been developing during the entire movie with no resolution. Apparently those involved with the making of this film don’t care, either. After all elements of her non-porn life are severed, the ending that is created to wrap everything up offers no satisfaction whatsoever. Let it be known that at this time I still hate Margaret, and you should too.

After Cherr-gelina ditches both men in her life, she miraculously runs into Margaret at some shitty dive bar. Cherry Baby makes a comment about needing a place to stay before giving Mags “the eye” and making out with her. No surprise, the old perv is ecstatic and gladly offers the barely legal runaway a room for the night in exchange for some girl-on-girl action not unlike the kind found at their day job.

As a last ditch effort to reduce Margaret-related hatred, director Stephen Elliott tries a “clever” fast-forward to another “morning after” a few months down the road to a future where they are in a relationship, have an endearing life together and Cherry is now a porn director as opposed to an “actor.”

What about her cokehead boyfriend who was in a major car accident? We’ll never know. What about her lifelong best friend who moved out to San Francisco with her? Nothing. What about Margaret? Still hate her.