Pfeiffer’s French Exit a foray into farce
French Exit (M, 113 mins) Directed by Azazel Jacobs Reviewed by James Croot ★★★
Frances Price’s (Michelle Pfeiffer) lavish lifestyle has finally caught up with her. As her financial adviser reminds her, the lack of financial liquidity should definitely not come as a surprise.
‘‘We’ve spoken about the possibility for seven years – and the actuality for three,’’ he intones.
‘‘Well, the plan was to die before themoney ran out,’’ she snaps back without missing a beat.
So reluctantly, the widow and mother-of-one’s books, art and jewellery collections are all placed on sale, the resulting cheques converted to Frances’ preferred currency of cash.
But while that might solve one particular crisis, the damage to her reputation around New York is something she can’t abide. Being labelled difficult and odd are badges she’s worn with pride, but as word spreads (‘‘the hens are clucking,’’ she muses) of hermoney troubles, Frances knows it’s time to relocate.
Salvation comes in the form of her friend Joan (Susan Coyne), who offers her apartment in Paris. Armed with a bag full of banknotes and her drugged cat ‘‘Small Frank’’ (in order to slip him through customs) and accompanied by her ever-obedient adult son Malcolm (Lucas Hedges), Frances sets sail for a new life. Although, breaking her old habits proves somewhat more difficult.
With its cadre of badly behaved eclectic, eccentric characters, distinctive dialogue and aesthetic of declining opulence, director Azazel Jacobs’ (TV’S Mozart in the Jungle) feature reminds one of the works of Wes Anderson orwoody Allen.
French Exit definitely has a more New York than Hollywood feel to its narrative beats and world view.
Adapting his own 2018 book, Canadian writer Patrick dewitt’s examination of a high-society woman struggling in her ‘‘third act’’ or ‘‘coda’’ (as she puts it) certainly will have its admirers, especially given Pfeiffer’s eyecatching performance.
Over the years, she has proven her ability to play complex and sometimes unlikeable characters (for every Susie Diamond or Selena Kyle, there’s been a Ellen Olenska or Tally Atwater) and Frances is definitely one of her finest turns.
And yet, even she struggles to keep you fully engaged as the story takes a series of narrative left turns into the supernatural and surreal.
Some of the supporting characters feel rather sketchily drawn (Daniellemacdonald’s psychic is particularly onedimensional), and the farce eventually overwhelms the more interesting psychodrama.
In the end, a promising premise ends up getting slightly stuck between anoel Coward-esque comedy and a Billywilder tragedy.