Poor Grace is in quite a pickle. Her husband has chosen to go sky diving sans parachute and has left the Cornish village society maven with no way to pay off all of his debt and still hold onto her gorgeous home. What's a poor widow to do?
The answer turns out to be right in her backyard. Or more accurately, her greenhouse.
Thus is the premise of the cute but clunky import "Saving Grace." Grace (the wonderful Brenda Blethyn) finds help from Matthew, her Scottish gardener (Craig Ferguson). See, Matthew has a problem of his own: the hemp he has planted in the local vicar's backyard is not getting enough sunlight. So the two transplant some cannabis to the greenhouse, light up the Cornwall sky with some powerful hydroponic lights and hope to make some serious money off the marijuana.
Of course, there are some obstacles in the way for this dynamic duo in the script, which Ferguson co-wrote with Mark Crowdy, and as a result "Grace" never really finds its footing. Crowdy and Ferguson jerk the gentle comedy around, and director Nigel Cole does not have a sturdy enough hand to maintain a sense of balance. Instead of escalating at a fluid pace, the film jumps stairs two or three at a time, trying too hard to catch up with itself.
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Not that "Grace" does not come without its own obvious charms. Blethyn and Ferguson are wonderfully zany together, and as Matthew's girlfriend Nicky, Valerie Edmond injects a welcome shot of sobriety to the film's mayhem. And John de Borman's cinematography could not be any more picturesque.
But most of "Grace'"s yuks come from the funky good stuff. Grace is the first, but pretty soon other refined townspeople dope up as well. And while it is definitely funny to see these blokes stripped of their veneer of stiff propriety, it is a superficial joke that Cole extends for way too long.
Cole makes a few other errors in judgment, too. For instance, the film's caper climax is a tangent that could have been avoided. A subplot involving the mistress of Grace's late husband is underplayed. And he uses several songs (especially "Human," the catchy Pretenders hit of 1999) that do not fit either musically or thematically.
Some of these missteps are inherent in the script, which is often just too one-note. Crowdy and Ferguson could have given the relationship between Matthew and Nicky, the one slightly serious element of the script, some more heft.
While leaving room for improvement as a screenwriter, Ferguson delivers the goods as an actor. Fans may know him best from his stateside work on "The Drew Carey Show" and "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" should not be surprised by his assured comic prowess.
There are other cute caricatures in Grace's tangled web: Vince (Bill Bailey), a second-rate drug dealer; Jacques (Tcheky Karyo), a more temperamental drug dealer; and the bumbling Dr. Bamford (Martin Clunes).
But "Grace" is Blethyn's movie, and as madcap as the film is, the actress manages to find a firm undercurrent. Grace, a woman who found herself duped by the husband she trusted, finds strength in her own competence. She learns to adapt and for the first time, take control of her own life. Who cares if selling weed is what leads to her independence?
In the end, though, none of these complaints are worth much. "Grace" is a movie that sets out to delight and certainly does so on its own (flawed) terms. So sit back, spark up and enjoy the show.
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