In The Thing Called Love, Peter Bogdanovich returns to two of his cinematic roots, country music and young people in love. These have remained mainstays throughout his career and rarely have they been personified better than in River Phoenix and Samantha Mathis. Indeed, one of the biggest strengths of this movie is the energy and compassion these actors bring to their roles which, in other movies can become tired and familiar clichés. Yet, The Thing Called Love follows such a well-worn path to its predictable conclusion that one can’t help but wonder if there was a more truthful and innovative way to tell this familiar story. Additionally, the feeling of regret and loss looms over the movie because Phoenix died two months after its initial release. The studio refused to a wider release for fear of appearing it was profiting off his death. Bogdanovich and the crew saw the movie as a tribute to this talented young man and that element is present in The Thing Called Love, but it doesn’t showcase River Phoenix’s full abilities.

The story follows Miranda Presley (Mathis), a young songwriter/musician who, like in previous movies, chases success to Nashville, only to find the journey to country music fame uncertain and difficult. Along the way, however, she also finds love. The two men who fall for her represent differing components of masculinity: one soft and tender (Dermot Mulroney), one moody and distant (Phoenix). A fair bit of forced drama unfolds between the three leads and a fellow aspiring singer (young Sandra Bullock ,who is mere comic relief and not a fully-fleshed character) as we watch Phoenix and Mathis come together, fall apart and come together again. Despite the artificiality, what works is the chemistry between Phoenix and Mathis, who fell in love on set. The little looks they give one another, the intensity of their arguments and the passion imbibed in their scenes together is rarely spontaneous and quite authentic. As to whether Phoenix was on drugs during filming, it is hard to separate such behavior from his character, which helps to illustrate how good of an actor he was. Still, his line readings are often peculiar, as if he is adrift in thought, which works in this context but also sticks out. It is the third wheel, Dermot Mulroney, with whom one feels sorry for the most. Here is a clearly talented man (cello-playing and all!) who shows true tenderness and heartfelt sympathy to Mathis but by the end is left out to dry for no other reason than she cannot resist the man who acts indifferent to her. Of course there is a psychological truth to this, but why go through the trouble of establishing Mulroney as the better candidate if the movie won’t take him seriously?

Despite the sincere interactions between Phoenix and Mathis, the country music scene features few memorable tunes and the use of songwriters as opposed to performers for the plot’s impetus results in little energy and more of an outsider’s look than behind the scenes. A few passing cameos by the likes of Trisha Yearwood, Pam Tillis and Kevin Welch generate some authenticity, but the movie looks and feels as if it could be set anywhere rather than specifically in the country music capital of the world. The most identifiable components of Nashville are exteriors shots of the café and bars the characters frequent with little of the unique spirit of this city that makes it so artistically attractive. Bogdanovich has employed this technique more successfully in previous works, particularly those set in the American South like The Last Picture Show, Paper Moon and Texasville. Yet, here the world of the movie is cocooned within the characters’ tunnel vision of ambition and love and Bogdanovich doesn’t open up to the outside world in any meaningful way. For example, the sequence when Phoenix and Mathis trek to Graceland plays out without purpose or emphasis. The whole sequence consists of them driving down, inexplicably getting married and then returning to Nashville the next day, making it perfunctory in the larger sense. Worse, the movie stays away from the two leads long enough to make us question their importance. It would appear that the movie is trying to maintain interest in too many characters, leaving us largely indifferent to most of them.

Despite the movie’s structural problems, the desire to see these attractive young actors come together is strong enough to follow them the whole way through but this is let down by the all-too familiar conclusion at the end. Interestingly enough, the final scene seems intent on being ambiguous about Mathis and Phoenix’s relationship but Phoenix’s real-life death gives the movie a depressing finality. Through no fault of its own, The Thing Called Love goes from being a thoughtful portrayal of songwriters to a tragic depiction of what might have been had the lead actor remained alive. Thus, the youthful energy Bogdanovich attempts to fuse into the picture is largely evaporated by the end. In his words, ” The last thing you’re left with is that he is dead, even though the character is alive … (The movie) was supposed to be bittersweet, but it turned out being more bitter than sweet.” For whatever reason, Bogdanovich has always been attracted to youthful emotions and actions and it has worked many times despite not being wholly successful here. To be interested in Bogdanovich as a director is to be willing to follow the impulse of young adulthood and The Thing Called Love illustrates one of the most important themes to him at this point of his career: the youthful drive that would propel him forward amidst another difficult period.