Postcards from the Edge is one of those movies which is just that little bit too smug and self-aware to be completely likable. Penned by Carrie Fisher (she bases her screenplay on her semi-autobiographical book of the same name), its the slightly-too-knowing tale of a drug-addled actress (Meryl Streep) whose only hope of finding work after checking out of rehab is to move in with her ageing celebrity mum (Shirley MacLaine).
As you can probably guess, all sorts of mishaps and set-backs occur from there on in, with Suzanne (thats Streep) ending up battling not only against her addictions, but also against the way in which mummy-dearest is gradually driving her round the bend. It turns out that Mumsie, you see, has a few problems of her own namely a tendency to hit the bottle with alarming regularity, a habit she brushes off with the entertaining if deluded observation: Im not an alcoholic, I just drink like an Irish person.
Its a film with some nice touches, and wonderful performances from the two leads, but its also the subject of some grossly uneven work on the part of both Fisher and director Mike Nichols. What starts off feeling like an intelligent drama tackling the difficulties of addiction in Hollywood soon takes the easy way out and transforms into a not-very-funny comedy. Thats a shame, because the drink-and-drug-fuelled lives of Tinseltowns rich and famous are a subject we often read about in the papers, but rarely has it been dealt with comfortably on-screen. This seemed like it might have been a perfect opportunity to put that right but for want of a better term it loses its bottle.