Moonstruck is a warm, funny romance with enough sense to give the older lovers proper attention. Cher holds it steady when Nicolas Cage overdoes the anguish, and the family scenes make it worth forgiving him.
Norman Jewison’s Moonstruck is a romantic comedy that takes desire seriously without requiring everyone to behave sensibly. It is funny, generous and warmly recommended, with a reservation about Nicolas Cage’s determination to make his feelings audible at considerable distance. John Patrick Shanley’s script gives its characters the sort of language people might like to find when an ordinary conversation becomes an argument about their entire lives. Jewison lets them say it with conviction, while keeping enough everyday fuss around them to stop the film becoming pompous.
Cher’s Loretta Castorini is the sensible presence this comedy needs, though being sensible does not make her immune to wanting something unwise. As a widowed book-keeper, she seems accustomed to sorting out what other people leave unfinished. We laughed at the marriage proposal because Cher makes the occasion feel like another responsibility Loretta has been obliged to take on. Her delivery is brisk without being cold, and she leaves enough uncertainty in Loretta’s face for the romance to have somewhere to go.
Cage’s Ronny Cammareri is less evenly judged. His aggrieved intensity gives Cher something substantial to resist, and the contrast between their performances is often funny before Shanley supplies a joke. But he sometimes stresses a feeling so heavily that we stop believing in it and start watching an actor insist. Jewison’s tolerance for that excess suits a film about surrendering caution, though there are moments when a quieter Ronny would have been more persuasive.
Olympia Dukakis, as Rose Castorini, works with much less visible effort. She makes a pause feel like a decision about how much truth the conversation can stand, and Vincent Gardenia’s Cosmo gives the family scenes another strong source of comic friction. The older characters have desires of their own; their lives are not simply there to explain Loretta’s. Shanley gives them attention, and the actors repay it by making their disappointments worth following in their own right.
David Watkin’s cinematography is particularly useful when the actors are doing less. Faces remain the thing we want to study, and the photography gives Cher and Dukakis room to hold our attention without a speech. Philip Rosenberg’s production design makes the family surroundings feel lived in rather than arranged for a romantic comedy. The visual details of Italian-American life help establish people with habits and histories, so the declarations do not seem to be happening in an empty space.
Lou Lombardo’s editing keeps the competing stories from feeling like interruptions. A pause can belong to a performer, and the family exchanges have time to become funny without the next cut hurrying the joke along. Dick Hyman’s music helps the changes between comedy and tenderness feel comfortable, although the actors supply the feeling we remember. At 102 minutes, the film has enough time for the supporting cast without letting the central romance drift out of sight.
Romantic comedies can become so preoccupied with getting a couple together that everyone else seems to be waiting for permission to leave. Here we would happily spend longer with Rose and Cosmo, and that is a large part of the pleasure. The broadness needs forgiving, particularly when Cage is pressing hard. Watch it with someone who enjoys an argument and knows when to let the other person finish.
