Film:  Ira and Abby

Studio:    Breakout Pictures; Team Todd.  Distributed by Magnolia Pictures

Director:  Robert Cary

Principal Actors:  Jennifer Westfeldt, Chris Messina, Fred Willard, Frances Conroy, Judith Light, Robert Klein, Jason Alexander

Release:  2006; On DVD released January 29, 2008

Film length:  104 minutes

Rating: R for language and some sexual content

3 ½ Stars

Reviewer:  Deborah Ground Buckner

Ira and Abby is a film that proves that a whole can be something less than the sum of its parts.  There are parts, particular scenes and performances, that are outstanding, but they don't add up to make this the film it wants to be when it grows up.

What is that film?  It wants to be a Woody Allen movie.  We open to a scene of Ira (Chris Messina) thoroughly engrossed in a therapy session, rambling on about every little thought that ever enters his head until the therapist, too long after the viewer reaches the conclusion, cries enough is enough and suggests it is time to end this twelve-year stretch of introspection that clearly isn't working.  Ira then demonstrates a complete inability to order lunch, unwilling to commit even to a sandwich.  In the various incarnations of Woody Allen in his early films, this was amusing and sometimes outright hilarious.  Here, Ira's self-absorbed whining is just annoying.  Then, it must be the film wants to be a scathing satire on the whole occupation of and popular obsession with therapy and analysis.  Or, maybe it is a bitter commentary on the impossibility of the institution of marriage.  Maybe if writer Jennifer Westfeldt (who also portrays Abby) had settled on one theme, the parts could have added up to a great film. 

But, as noted, some of the parts are wonderful.  Westfeldt gives a delightful performance as Abby, one of the sweetest characters ever presented in a film.  She works in a gym, selling membership contracts, but "I don't work out. I hate exercise," she confesses, while munching on a super-sized order of McDonald's fries (if only we could all have such eating habits and still look so good).  Counseling Ira on the various plan prices, she suggests, "maybe you should just take up running."  Abby's sympathetic and understanding method of handling a subway robber is priceless.  After several hours together, Abby suggests to Ira they should get married.  They rush to meet each other's parents and say their self-created vows even before knowing each other's middle names.  Yet, it looks like things might have a chance of working out.

The introduction of the two sets of parents and the merging of the families bring more of the great moments of this film.  Ira's parents, Arlene (Judith Light) and Seymour (Robert Klein) are both professional analysts, not therapists, as they quickly explain.  They listen to people, but don't offer advise, sort of like being paid to be someone's best friend, they observe.  Abby's parents, Lynnie (Frances Convoy) and Michael (Fred Willard), are professional jingle writers and voice-over artists.  They are a flower child couple who never grew up and never fell out of love until an instant attraction sparks between Arlene and Michael, which soon has Arlene joining him in the studio to perform a voice over ad for a "Spa-a-a-a-a."  Judith Light demonstrates the mastery of comic timing she gained in her years with Who's the Boss?  Fred Willard makes a character as obnoxiously charming and lovable as Mike La Fontaine in A Mighty Wind. 

Before long, Ira and Abby are using the gift certificate for couples' therapy, the thoughtful present bestowed upon them by Ira's parents.  Jason Alexander, completely absorbed in his role as counselor, listens to their problems, clearly indicating his sympathies for Abby's position.  "I can't believe you won therapy!" Ira fumes as they return home.

Then, things begin to spiral downward, as the story gets bogged down with trying to determine just what its message should be.  That's a shame.  With a bit more focus, a film with a lot of good moments could have been a very good film.

Special features include commentary by Jennifer Westfeldt and Ilana Levine, extended scenes, and outtakes.