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If you weren’t around in the 1950s, there’s a pretty good chance that you imagine the decade as a carefree era, when girls wore poodle skirts and ponytails, boys greased their hair, and all moms were like June Cleaver. But the ‘50s mom in director Richard Loncraine’s My One and Only is certainly no June Cleaver.
Based on the story of actor George Hamilton’s youth, My One and Only follows George (Logan Lerman), his half-brother, Robbie (Mark Rendall), as they join their mother, Anne (Renée Zellweger) on a cross-country quest for security (and maybe love, too).
After years of marriage to the famous (and notoriously unfaithful) bandleader Dan Devereaux (Kevin Bacon), Anne finally snaps when she finds him in their bed with another woman. She packs her bags, buys a new Cadillac convertible, and leaves New York with her two teenage sons, determined to start a new life—and maybe have a little bit of fun in the process.
As Anne searches for a wealthy man to take care of them, the trio travels from Boston to Pittsburgh to St. Louis—and, each time they leave another city, Anne reminds her boys never to look back. But while Robbie, a flamboyant aspiring actor, seems to enjoy their thrilling life on the road, bitter, sardonic George wants nothing more than to go home to his dad.
On the surface, My One and Only is a light road trip comedy about a prim and proper Southern belle who’s searching for her next sugar daddy. It’s sweet and funny, with a great ‘50s vibe (and great ‘50s costumes to match).
But, if you look a little deeper, you’ll find that it’s more than just a fluffy comedy. In fact, it offers a fascinating look at women in the ‘50s. Through Anne, we get a glimpse of a woman’s place in 1950s society. She’s expected to be a devoted wife and loving mother, and she feels pressured to find a man to take care of her and her sons—because it’s the proper thing for a woman to do.
In the same way, Anne, too, is more than she seems. On the surface, she’s a gold-digging ditz who leaves her children behind while she dances the night away. She’s stubbornly optimistic, spouting out aphorisms as she once again uproots her boys’ lives and moves them on to the next city.
But Anne is smarter (and more thoughtful) than she may seem. Though she’s definitely not the typical ‘50s mom, she truly loves her sons—and her quest to find a rich man is more about them than it is about her. To George, she may be stubborn and selfish, too foolishly proud to crawl back to her cheating husband. But he can’t see beyond the façade to the real Anne—the desperate woman who will do anything to take care of herself and her boys (even if it means quietly pawning her possessions). Zellweger shows unexpected strength in her performance. Anne is more than just the sweet, flawless beauty that Zellweger usually plays. Instead, she reveals her character’s vulnerability; she lets the cracks show. And, in doing so, she adds depth to an otherwise light and fluffy film.
So whether you’re looking for brainless laughs or something a little deeper, you’ll find it in My One and Only. It’s light and easy-going, fun and stylish, and surprisingly perceptive, too.
