Somewhere deep in the San Andreas Fault would be the safest place for “Twogether,” the kind of movie that could do serious damage to careers if let loose. Napkin-thin pic about two West Coast airheads starts falling apart in the first reel and just keeps on going. Audience should be limited to the filmers’ close friends and family.
Nick Cassavetes (son of late helmer John) and Brenda Bakke topline as a struggling Venice artist and a rich girl with parent problems.
After meeting at a benefit and leaping into bed, they impulsively marry, only to change their minds pronto and split up. When Bakke delivers divorce papers six months later, more sack action leads to her getting pregnant.
Pic’s second half limns their life with baby, more spats and Cassavetes’ artistic crises as he becomes famous. Main excitement is Bakke finally discovering what he keeps in a locked chest (answer: nudie Polaroids). Several screaming matches later, he burns pix and heads off to LAX. Cue cute coda.
For a few seconds, the movie promises to be a witty take on the California “relationships” genre. But the slack script, and seriously shallow people, soon sink that idea.
From then on, it’s a long haul through a movie that can’t seem to decide whether it’s a drama or comedy. Captions like “Four years, three months, two days later” marginally suggest the latter.
Cassavetes and Michelle Pfeiffer look-alike Bakke are at their best in the tart opening scenes, but thereafter it’s downhill all the way.
Only person to emerge with any credit is d.p. Eugene Shlugleit, who makes the beautiful couple look far better than they deserve.