Gathering of old friends is no picnic
French farce leans heavily on dinner scenes but serves only warmed- over sitcom staples
ET SI ON VIVAIT TOUS ENSEMBLE? ( AND IF WE ALL LIVED TOGETHER?)
In French with English subtitles Starring: Jane Fonda, Guy Bedos, Geraldine Chaplin, Daniel Brühl, Claude Rich and Pierre Richard. Directed by: Stéphane Robelin 14A: sexual content, nudity Running time: 92 minutes
Damn those French people and their fabulously rustic picnic tables. Surely, you’ve noticed them, those long elegant planks cobbled together with ancient dowels, stained by the finest balsamics and Bordeaux?
They sit centre- frame in every major scene because French people apparently still believe in the idea of sitting down and sharing food, talking about the metaphysical challenges of being and generally contemplating one’s raison d’être.
American filmmakers rarely show us the dining room table unless it’s done with the suggestion of ironic conformity — where prim and proper parents look down on the soup- slurping interloper with judgment and disdain.
Actually, we rarely see Americans eat at all any more, unless it’s a prelude to a gangland slaying where spaghetti flies about the room in slow motion alongside the blasted contents of anonymous craniums.
Yet, eating is very much at the core of this Gallic take on a Marigold Hotel, and those gorgeous dining room tables have a significant supporting role as a ragtag group of golden- agers decide the only way to deal with the rising cost of elder care is to move in together.
Imagine Three’s Company and Golden Girls inhabited by the lusty spirit of Serge Gainsbourg and you get a pretty good taste of what And If We All Lived Together? serves up for entertainment.
You can rest assured we’re going to feast on farce when the gang orders a 100- kilo side of beef without proper storage.
You can also bet on a few gnarly barbs when the ghost of infidelity sits down and reveals all to a demented partner. Yet, beneath the comic checkered tablecloth lurks the lump of mortality: Every character is facing the end. Some sooner. Some later.
The one facing it soonest is Jeanne, played here by former “fille terrible” Jane Fonda. Jeanne has already made peace with death when the movie begins: she goes coffin shopping, eager to find just the right box that will please her friends when they say goodbye.
She thinks it should be jolly, because Jeanne is the only one in the whole movie who’s grasped the importance of living in the moment. She wants her final farewell to be memorable and happy, because she loved a good life, and she also — in perfect French fashion — lived with good lovemaking.
Yes, dinner conversation is filled with talk of sex and indiscretion, and when the long- veiled truth comes out, we expect to hear the rattle of manly swords beating against the aged wood.
Yet, for all the venom and anger, there’s a palpable softening of the spleen. The men would rather hug each other over a bottle of good wine than get all bruised and bloody defending their honour.
Even the other surviving female, Annie ( Geraldine Chaplin), retracts her claws when she learns she was sharing her lover with her best friend.
Everyone is just too old for the selfindulgent drama, and they know it. So while it’s nice to be spared the irksome ego sparring, the result is a movie where the bulk of character transformation has already taken place.
We’re not going to see any great arcs, but director- writer Stephane Robelin finds a suitable substitute in the glimmer of self- knowledge that flashes across the face of each and every person on screen. Whether we’re watching an old man discover who he became over the course of his life, or a young man explore his own fear, Robelin ensures there’s enough internal drama unwinding in each actor to keep the frame busy.
The inter- connections are tougher to pull off because the situation never feels entirely believable. Every scrap of dialogue feels forced and syrupy, unless it’s a word exchanged over the humble grain of a rough- hewed picnic table.
The dinner scenes are the glue that hold this movie together, and the table itself the sexist ingenue on all fours. Sadly, Robelin can’t cook up a gourmet meal with the given ingredients and settles for a microwaved sitcom served in a stylish terrine.