Movie Review: Quartet (2012)

Genre: Dramedy  

Director: Dustin Hoffman  

Starring: Maggie Smith, Tom Courtenay, Billy Connolly, Pauline Collins  

Running Time: 98 minutes  

Synopsis: In England's financially struggling Beecham House for retired musicians, the residents include retired opera singers Reg (Tom Courtenay), Wilf (Billy Connolly), and Cissy (Pauline Collins), as well as musical director Cedric (Michael Gambon). Preparations for the upcoming annual pageant are disrupted by the arrival of Jean Horton (Maggie Smith), a retired diva and Reg's ex-wife. She has vowed to never sing again, but Reg, Wilf, and Cissy set out to convince her otherwise.

What Works Well: The picturesque rural setting provides postcard-quality backdrops to this adaptation of writer Ronald Harwood's play, and the soundtrack of classical music snippets enhances the sense of staid sophistication. The lead performances are predictably elegant, Billy Connelly enjoys delivering a stream of unfiltered innuendos, and the extras animating Beecham House include actual retired British musicians. 

What Does Not Work As Well: No amount of visual and aural beauty can hide the wafer-thin content. The characters reside at the skimpy sketch level, their late-in-life afflictions treated purely for laughs, and the resolutions of the big dilemmas (will Reg and Jean reconcile? will she sing again?) are oh-so-predictable. In reaching for a respectable running time, director Dustin Hoffman resorts to plenty of padding.

Conclusion: Glaring gaps within graceful grandeur.



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Movie Review: Gosford Park (2001)

A comedy of manners combined with a frivolous mystery, Gosford Park is overstuffed with ill-defined characters floundering for a purpose.

In rural England of 1932, the high-society family and friends of the wealthy William McCordle (Michael Gambon) and his wife Lady Sylvia (Kristin Scott Thomas) gather at an estate for a pheasant shoot. The attendees include Hollywood film producer Morris Weissman (Bob Balaban) and actor Ivor Novello (Jeremy Northam). The house is run by the butler Jennings (Alan Bates) and housekeeper Mrs. Wilson (Helen Mirren), overseeing a large group of servants including housemaid Elsie (Emily Watson).

Many of the attendees have reasons to dislike each other, and William is threatening to cut-off the income of several family members with stressed finances. His targets include Lady Sylvia's aunt Constance (Maggie Smith), who is accompanied by her bright but inexperienced maid Mary (Kelly Macdonald). Other servants in attendance include valets Robert Parks (Clive Owen) and Henry Denton (Ryan Phillippe). Midway through the gathering a murder is committed, and Inspector Thompson (Stephen Fry) gets involved.

Directed by Robert Altman and written by Julian Fellowes, Gosford Park is intended as an observational exercise focusing on the upstairs/downstairs social structure of England between the wars. With dialogue consisting of nothing but gossip, inane small talk, and snippets of conversations, the film drifts without power then starts to sink under the weight of about 28 characters vying for space. With incoherent introductions buried under a torrent of names and titles, it's impossible to map out who is who. Unsurprisingly, all the characters remain essentially undefined or at best caricatures.

On the margins, talk emerges of a dark past involving illegitimate children and an orphanage, and a murder occurs. But Fellowes and Altman don't really care about the mystery elements: the crime generates about as much concern as one of the pheasants shot out of the sky. The subsequent investigation is dismissive, Inspector Thompson walking in from an Agatha Christie novel then walking out again having achieved nothing.

The set designs and costumes are impressive, and the strictly hierarchical class structure of money, titles, shallowness, and gossip upstairs, contrasted with servants (with their own hierarchy), hard work, and more gossip downstairs, is notionally interesting. But in this house, both levels are overflowing with uninteresting and irrelevant people irritating each other for an agonizingly long 137 minutes.



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Movie Review: California Suite (1978)

A tactless comedy with dashes of drama, California Suite oscillates between pompous and cretinous.

Four unrelated stories take place over one weekend at the same Beverly Hills hotel. Divorced couple Hannah (Jane Fonda) and Bill (Alan Alda) meet to discuss the future of their 17 year old daughter Jenny. New Yorker Hannah is a highly-strung news editor who thrives on prickly insults and sharp retorts, while Bill has become much more laid back since he relocated to Los Angeles. The couple bicker endlessly.

Veteran English stage actress Diana Barrie (Maggie Smith) is nominated for her first Academy Award for an unworthy role in the frivolous comedy No Left Turns. Her husband Sidney Cochran (Michael Caine), an antique dealer, is her companion for the Oscar ceremony. Diana is nervous about the evening and leans on Sidney for emotional support, but all is not well in their relationship.

Marvin (Walter Matthau) is in town for his nephew's bar mitzvah. His brother Harry (Herb Edelman) is a lecherous womanizer, and arranges for a prostitute (Denise Galik) to entertain Marvin in his hotel room. The situation gets messier when Marvin's wife Millie (Elaine May) arrives the next morning.

Doctors Chauncey Gump (Richards Pryor) and Willis Panama (Bill Cosby) and their wives are on a joint vacation and getting testy. The hotel messes up their booking, with the Gumps confined to a faulty closet-sized room while the Panamas enjoy a luxury suite. The vacation goes rapidly downhill from there.

Writer Neil Simon adapted his own play, and in the hands of director Herbert Ross what may have worked on the stage flops badly on the screen. Essentially four separate 25 minute sketches populated by distinctly unlikable people, California Suite generates a couple of chuckles but otherwise curls up into a small ball and dies. 

Worst of all is the segment featuring the Black doctors played by Richard Pryor and Bill Cosby. Their misadventures descend into low-brow slapstick of the pathetic kind, a miserable and painful waste of talent.

Two of the other sketches are not much better. Jane Fonda and Alan Alda are forced to spout Simon's artificially agitated hyper-intellectual theatrical prose, and their incessant sniping is quickly insufferable. Walter Matthau wrings some humour from the hapless middle-aged man trying to hide a passed-out hooker from his wife, but is ultimately defeated by material stretched too thin.

Maggie Smith and Michael Caine almost save the day with the one reasonably compelling and well-written story. Actress Diana and antique dealer Sidney's marriage is complex, and made more intricate by her propensity for drama and his caustic street-smarts. They both clearly benefit from the union, but barely concealed secrets and frustrations are nibbling away at their contentment. While far from perfect and still saddled with loquacity, this episode at least creates a memorable pair. 

Maggie Smith nabbed a real Oscar for a forgettable movie in which she is Oscar nominated for a silly comedy. From the few snippets shown No Left Turns is indeed dire, but also potentially still better than California Suite.



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Movie Review: The Lady In The Van (2015)

A low-key drama about an elderly woman living in a van, The Lady In The Van starts and ends with its title.

It's the 1970s in England. A ragged lady known as Miss Shepherd (Maggie Smith) and whose first name may be Mary or maybe Margaret shows up in the London neighbourhood of Camden. She parks her van on the street and proceeds to live in it, moving location from time to time to avoid pushing any one neighbour over the limit of tolerance. Author Alan Bennett (Alex Jennings) lives on the street and is the most sympathetic, although still disgusted by Miss Shepherd's filth.

When new parking restrictions are implemented, Bennett begrudgingly allows the lady to park her van on his driveway for a few months. She stays there for 15 years, with occasional visits from social workers. Bennett learns little about his squatter, other than she used to attend a strict school run by nuns, and she used to be decent piano player. An intimidating man periodically drops by, demanding money from Miss Shepherd.

Directed by Nicholas Hytner, The Lady In The Van is a television-level film at best, and even then it's debatable if this story is worth telling in any medium. Bennett's source book is about 100 pages long, and it's clear that other than a bland wave at English society's repressed eccentricity, there is nowhere near enough material for a 104 minute movie. The film establishes its premise in the first 10 minutes and idles for the remainder of the running time.

Miss Shepherd stinks, the neighbours are annoyed but not to the point of doing anything about it, she like to paint her vans yellow, and she has a vague history of routine broken dreams and perhaps a secret to keep. For the entirety of the film, no one actually does anything. Pretending that this story is anything special and worth producing a movie around is spurious in the extreme.

Of course Maggie Smith gives it her all, but this is a relatively easy monotonal performance all about the crusty anger of an old and marginally deranged woman who does not care to play by any societal rules. Jennings is saddled with an unnecessary dual role, supposed to represent the author and the man, but only serving to reveal the story's level of dilution.

The Lady In The Van parks and then dies.

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Movie Review: The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie (1969)

A school drama with a difference, The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie is an engrossing study of surreptitious manipulation in all its forms. The film moves in unexpected directions, and builds forceful momentum powered by an exceptional Maggie Smith performance.

Edinburgh, 1932. Miss Jean Brodie (Smith) is an unmarried teacher at the Marcia Blaine School for Girls. Having lost the love of her life in the dying days of the Great War, Jean presents herself as a superior teacher, in her prime, dedicated to exposing "her girls" to the arts, culture, beauty and her version of the truth. The students currently falling under her influence include the beautiful Jenny (Diane Grayson), the smart Sandy (Pamela Franklin), and the tentative, stuttering Mary (Jane Carr).

Jean is involved in romantic relationships with two fellow teachers, but is unable to commit to either one. Her real love is art teacher and artist Teddy Lloyd (Robert Stephens), but he is married with many kids and is only interested in the thrill of the affair. Music teacher Gordon Lowther (Gordon Jackson) is more available, but Jean sees him as a boring second choice. Meanwhile, the school's headmistress Emmeline Mackay (Celia Johnson) is growing wary of Jean's undue influence on the girls. As the Brodie girls grow up and start to move into early adulthood, Jean's influence resonates through their young lives, while the rumblings of emerging fascism across Europe unleash disturbing tendencies in Miss Brodie.

A play adaptation directed by Ronald Neame and written for the screen by Jay Presson Allen, The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie initially presents itself as a female version of 1967's To Sir, With Love. Jean Brodie appears to be a principled and inspirational teacher, rising above the doldrums of a routine curriculum to turn her students into something better. They reciprocate with deep admiration, building a self-sustaining circle of affection to escape the grey expectations of the school's administration.

But this is a film with a clever feint. The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie's intent is to explore dangers lurking beneath superficial female displays of nurturing, and the drama slowly, almost imperceptibly, but ever so surely, steers towards dark corners. What lies beneath the central character's seemingly philanthropic behaviour is a rare selfish streak, and Neame expertly peels the onion layers to reveal a poisonous core where lifelong heart and mind battles are fought in classrooms and bedrooms.

Presson Allen surrounds Jean Brodie with other women old and young, and they are no less calculating. Miss Mackay's mission in life is focused on ridding Marcia Blaine School of Miss Brodie, and what starts as a clash between old and modern transforms into an existential battle of wills between two educators using other people as weapons. Meanwhile, Sandy matures from girl to young woman and joins the arena where deviousness rules. Taught at the feet of Brodie, Sandy has learned well and emerges as a couterpoint to her mentor.

Maggie Smith delivers a spectacular performance, full of righteous self-aggrandization disguised as benevolence. Pamela Franklin and Celia Johnson hold their own, and form the other two points of the tension triangle. There are men in the film, but while the artist Teddy Lloyd and the well-meaning Gordon Lowther sometimes imagine a level of autonomy, they are in fact caught in overlapping webs of deception woven by the women in their lives.

Two highlight scenes demonstrate the art of verbal warfare. Brodie and Mackay face off in an epic battle of words and wits, Brodie drawing a line in the sand and standing on the edge of it with magnificent impudence. Brodie and Sandy then get their own royal battle, the former student flexing her burgeoning power, and now bursting into her own prime.

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The Movies Of Maggie Smith

All movies starring Maggie Smith and reviewed on the Ace Black Movie Blog are linked below:

The V.I.P.s (1963)

The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie (1969)

Murder By Death (1976)

California Suite (1978)

A Room With A View (1985)

The First Wives Club (1996)

Gosford Park (2001)

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2012)

Quartet (2012)

The Lady In The Van (2015)

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The Movie Star Index is here.

Movie Review: Murder By Death (1976)

A whodunit comedy satire, Murder By Death offers laughs aplenty but also runs out of ideas rather quickly.

The world's best detectives are invited to a spooky mansion for an evening of dinner and death. The detectives include Sidney Wang (modeled on Charlie Chan, and played by Peter Sellers), Dick and Dora Charleston (Nick and Nora Charles, brought to life by David Niven and Maggie Smith), Milo Perrier (Hercule Poirot, portrayed by James Coco), Sam Diamond (representing Sam Spade, played by Peter Falk) and Jessica Marbles (Miss Marple, interpreted by Elsa Lanchester). They need to overcome a rickety bridge and falling gargoyles just to make it into the mansion, where they are greeted by the blind butler Jamesir Bensonmum (Alec Guinness). Deaf-mute maid Yetta (Nancy Walker) is supposed to be helping to get dinner ready.

Their host is erratic millionaire Lionel Twain (Truman Capote), who promises them that one person in the mansion will be dead by midnight, and offers a reward of $1 million to whichever detective can solve the crime. In fact, by the time midnight rolls around two people appear to be dead, the rooms of the mansion are playing tricks of their own, and deep dark personal secrets about all the guests will soon be revealed. The detectives not only have to solve the crimes, but also fight to stay alive as they all come under personal attack.

Written by Neil Simon and directed by Ray Stark, Murder By Death is a good idea with mediocre execution. Making fun of the Agatha Christie-style detective genre is a promising premise, and the gathering of great minds in a stormy mansion to match wits with an evil schemer does set the stage for plenty of zingers, one-liners, and obvious convolutions. The great cast, spooky mansion setting and a clear sense of lighthearted self-depreciation create an agreeably entertaining film.

But the momentum only goes so far, and Simon surprisingly seems to have trouble developing the concept. The running time is about 90 minutes, and the first 30 minutes are fully occupied with the detectives arriving at the mansion. They all encounter the bridge, they all encounter the falling gargoyles, and they all encounter the blind butler, in what amounts to dullness by prolonged repetition. The remaining hour has an unexpectedly high number of flat patches. Too much time is invested in a limited number of gags, for example opening and closing the dining room door to find the room alternatively full and empty. This seems to go on forever and is repeated ad nauseam (and never properly explained).

To tide over the rough patches, there are jokes aplenty to keep things sort of humming along. Alec Guinness as a haplessly blind butler generates the most laughs. Peter Sellers mangling the English language with his eastern morsels of faux wisdom and trite traditional sayings adds plenty of fine comic timing. Peter Falk goes all-in as hard-boiled detective Sam Diamond. Less successful is James Coco as the food-obsessed Perrier, while Elsa Lanchester as Jessica Marbles is under-written. The cast also includes Richard Narita as Wang's adopted son, Eileen Brennan as Diamond's assistant, and James Cromwell as Perrier's driver.

Simon navigates the story towards his punchline, poking fun at detective stories that reveal key information in the frantic last few pages simply to try and outwit the audience. He probably carries that joke too far, as the rushed ending disintegrates into a muddled anti-climax of anything goes.

Murder By Death is a passable satire, and at the end, the butler maybe did it. Or maybe not.

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Movie Review: The First Wives Club (1996)

A sharply written comedy about the pitfalls women face in middle age, The First Wives Club is an often hilarious film with a superb cast in top form.

After graduating from college as best friends, Annie (Diane Keaton), Brenda (Bette Midler), Elise (Goldie Hawn) and Cynthia (Stockard Channing) drift apart and pursue their lives. About 25 years later, Cynthia commits suicide after her husband leaves her for another, younger woman. Annie, Brenda and Elise reconnect at the memorial service, and discover that they are all being badly treated by their men.

Brenda dedicated her life to her family, only for her husband Morty (Dan Hedaya), the owner of a chain of electronics stores, to leave her for the much younger Shelly (Sarah Jessica Parker). Elise became a famous Hollywood star and helped her husband Bill (Victor Garber) establish himself as a producer. He now wants a divorce and has his eye on young starlet Phoebe (Elizabeth Berkley). Annie, an accommodating apologist still tolerating the nagging of her mother Catherine (Eileen Heckart), wants to desperately believe that she has a salvageable marriage to husband Aaron (Stephen Collins), a marketing executive. But she also discovers that he is having an affair with their joint therapist Leslie (Marcia Gay Harden).

Driven by anger and a desire for revenge, the three women band together to heap misery on the men. Deploying Elise's financial clout and with help from interior decorator Duarto (Bronson Pinchot) and New York socialite Gunilla Garson Goldberg (Maggie Smith), Brenda tries to find a way to manipulate the naive Shelly and bring down Morty's retail empire. Annie joins forces with her daughter Chris (Jennifer Dundas) and tries to manoeuvre her way into a position of influence at Aaron's marketing firm. Elise does her best to ensure that Bill gets very little from their share of the assets. But the ladies soon clash among themselves and realize that revenge alone may not provide the satisfaction that they seek.

Directed by Hugh Wilson and written by Robert Harling and Paul Rudnick, The First Wives Club is a snappy riot. The film generates its laughs from the strength of its likable characters, and successfully steers clear of cheap gags. While some set-ups are unfortunately quite contrived (for example, the ladies end up descending a building on a barely-controlled window cleaning platform), most of the film's energy is derived from the angst of real women grappling with the unfairness of life.

Elise: You think just because I'm a movie star, I don't have feelings, well, you're wrong! I do have feelings! I'm an actress! I have ALL of them!

And while the film is first and foremost a comedy of empowerment, it also has a lot to say about the ghastly treatment handed out by men as they approach middle-age, find success and dump the women who helped to get them there. There isn't a sympathetic main male character anywhere to be found (the hapless Duarto comes closest), and while the men are driven by blind lust and the superficiality of good looks, women are presented as both allies (Gunilla, Chris, Catherine) and back-stabbing, gold-digging enemies (Phoebe, Shelley, Leslie).

Brenda: Where's Shelly?
Morty: In the car.
Brenda: Glove compartment?
Morty: Trunk.

The dialogue exchanges are a particular highlight. Almost every conversation, jab and retort is polished to a shine and dipped in irony, sarcasm, or venom. They don't always work, but most of them do, and in the hands of the brilliant cast, the film becomes a showcase for clever verbal sparring and timing excellence.

Elise: You've got some nerve! I drink because I am a sensitive and highly strung person!
Brenda: No, that's why your co-stars drink!
Elise: I am not a DRUNK!
Brenda: Oh really? Let's examine the evidence! Look! All bottles! And gallon jugs!
Elise: I had GUESTS.
Brenda: Who, Guns N' Roses?!

Watching Keaton, Hawn and Midler bounce off each other is a delight, and the screen glows with what appears to be a genuine rapport as they share equal screen time. Hawn happily represents the youth obsessed culture of Hollywood and allows herself to play with the extremes of injections, face lifts and plastic surgery. Midler embrases the frumpyness trap of middle age motherhood, while Keaton carries the flag of women with the crying need to believe that everything will work out., and who stand ready to take all the blame when they don't. All three evolve out of necessity into take-charge women ready to dish out pain, and the film rides on their wave of transformation.

The supporting cast is unusually deep, with Sarah Jessica Parker sparkling as the hilariously dim Shelly. The likes of Ivana Trump, Ed Koch, Gloria Steinem and Kathie Lee Gifford make minor guest appearances, and J.K. Simmons appears in a bit part.

Ivana: Ladies, you have to be strong and independent. And remember...
Elise: What?
Ivana: Don't get mad... get everything.

The ending goes searching for a greater meaning and falters a bit as it moves away from the core premise. Although The First Wives Club is not necessarily perfect, this group of fun-loving ladies is well worth joining.

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Movie Review: A Room With A View (1985)

An adaptation of the E.M. Forster novel about a young British woman falling in love with a free-spirited man, A Room With A View is a gorgeous coffee-table movie, with beautiful costumes, scenery and performances making up for a thin plot and slow pacing.

It's the early 1900s. On a trip to Florence with her chaperon and older cousin Charlotte (Maggie Smith), the young and curious Lucy Honeychurch (Helena Bonham Carter) meets fellow British vacationer George Emerson (Julian Sands), a rather strange and passionate young man traveling with his talkative father Mr. Emerson (Denholm Elliott). Lucy and George witness a scuffle between two local men that turns into a murder, and George comes to Lucy's assistance when she faints from the excitement. They are gradually attracted to each other, and on a subsequent trip to the Italian countryside they share a spontaneous and sexy kiss, much to Charlotte's horror.

Upon returning home to the English countryside, Lucy has a suitor waiting in the stuffy form of Cecil Vyse (Daniel Day-Lewis). Lucy is content to go down the road of marrying Cecil, until fate intervenes and the Emersons move in as tenants at a nearby house in Lucy's neighbourhood, reigniting the potential for romance between Lucy and George.

One of the biggest successes for the duo of director James Ivory and producer Ismail Merchant, A Room With A View is a lush exercise in visually rich romance. Ivory makes almost every scene an idyllic painting to remember, with opulent colours, breathtaking views and lavish costumes. From the plazas of Florence to the fields of rural Italy and onto the English countryside, A Room With A View is as much an artistic feast for the eyes as it is a narrative for the heart.

The plot itself is slight, and unfolds at a leisurely pace. The romance between Lucy and George is based on little except coincidence and the thrill of the illicit, and there is nothing in the script by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala to explain why the feisty Lucy and the rather distracted George should actually enjoy each other's company.

More interesting are the three secondary characters. Charlotte carries a look of perpetual mild panic, unable to control Lucy and witnessing an eruption of lust. The senior Mr. Emerson always has something to say and is never shy about saying it, occupying the centre of every conversation. And Cecil Vyse is the definition of stuffiness, the antithesis of Lucy and an easy man to discard in the chase for adventurous romance.

With an undercurrent of dry humour, A Room With A View pokes fun at Victorian attitudes towards morality lingering in the early part of the 20th century. Lucy and Charlotte agree to never mention the kiss between Lucy and George, no so much to protect Lucy's character but rather Charlotte's reputation for allowing the kiss to happen. And the film outlines British haughtiness towards Italians, who are perceived by Charlotte and her fellow older aged travellers as little better than wild natives.

The performances are note perfect, Helena Bonham Carter providing a bright spark of rebellion for Lucy to play with, while Maggie Smith finds every possible expression of worry, given that Charlotte needs them all. Judi Dench makes a relatively brief appearance as English author Eleanor Lavish, touring Italy for inspiration.

A Room With A View is distinguished entertainment, making up with decorum what it lacks in excitement.

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Movie Reviews: The V.I.P.s (1963)

An ensemble cast multi-story drama set in and around a London airport, The V.I.P.s maintains a steady level of interest thanks to the numerous stars on display, but never manages to properly take off.

A group of rich travellers gather at a London airport in preparation for a flight to New York. Frances Andros (Elizabeth Taylor) is dropped off at the airport by her preoccupied businessman husband Paul (Richard Burton) to travel to a presumed vacation, but she is secretly planning to abandon her marriage and elope with international gigolo Marc Champselle (Louis Jourdan). Australian businessman Les Mangrum (Rod Taylor) is financially stretched to the limit, and must make it to a meeting in New York to salvage his business. He is accompanied by his loyal assistant Miss Mead (Maggie Smith). Pompous actor Max Buda (Orson Welles) must make it out of Britain by midnight, or otherwise face a hefty tax bill. He is accompanied by aspiring starlet Gloria Gritti (Elsa Martinelli). And the Duchess of Brighton (Margaret Rutherford) carries a big title but has no financial means to keep up her estate. She is hoping to land a job in Florida to help pay the bills.

When thick fog descends on the airport and delays the flight, the travellers have to face their crises. Things get worse when they are forced to stay overnight at an airport hotel. Frances is torn between Paul, who pays her little attention but is passionate in his love, and Marc, who seems to love her but may be an opportunist. Les risks everything by authorizing a bad cheque while remaining oblivious to Miss Mead's feelings towards him, and Max's accountant has to come up with an innovative, but awkward, solution to his client's tax problems.

Directed by Anthony Asquith and written by Terence Rattigan, The V.I.P.s has an intriguing premise, tapping into the growing fascination with the emerging jet set of rich people worried about money and relationships within their world of privilege. Adding real-life couple Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor into the mix helps the glamour quotient despite rather pedestrian execution.

Asquith brings to life an airport buzzing with activity, the V.I.P. lounge a crossroads of the rich and powerful acting all rich and powerful, and fawned upon by dedicated airport staff. When the drama moves to the hotel the film loses steam and becomes more stagebound, as what is essentially a talkfest is deprived of the surrounding energy generated by a major transportation hub.

Understandably focussing on Paul and Frances Andros, The V.I.P.s spends a long time on Frances' dilemma, exposing in the process the couple's frivolity. She can't decide whether to give her husband another chance to demonstrate genuine affection, or abandon him and tie her fate to a recognized playboy. Her hesitation becomes tedious, and is not helped by Paul running around with a handgun and a short temper, while Marc oozes smarm from every pore.

A bit more interesting is Maggie Smith as Miss Mead, the phenomenally efficient and equally devoted assistant to the jovial Les Mangrum. In just her fourth screen role, Smith combines secretarial capability with secretly held love and delivers the film's most sensitive performance. At the other end of the scale are Welles, Martinelli and Rutherford, who grab onto the broadest definitions of their characters and delve no further. Rutherford somehow won the Best Supporting Actress Academy Award for a monotonal and ill-defined turn as the dotty Duchess of Brighton.

The V.I.P.s are reasonably engaging characters, but their stories include some bothersome turbulence.

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Movie Review: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2012)

A thoughtful comedy about new beginnings in the twilight of life, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel tackles themes of growing old, starting over, and dreaming at any age.

Seven British pensioners come to a crossroads in life. Evelyn (Judi Dench) finds herself a widow, her husband having left her nothing but a mountain of debt. Douglas and Jean Ainslie (Bill Nighy and Penelope Wilton) reach retirement age and find themselves poor, having invested badly. Muriel (Maggie Smith) is a retired house cleaner and a racist. She needs hip replacement surgery but can't afford to pay her way out of a six month wait. Graham (Tom Wilkinson) suddenly calls time on his career as a judge. Norman (Ronald Pickup) is a lifelong womanizer now finding it increasingly difficult to attract new lovers. Madge (Celia Imrie) has had a succession of failed marriages, and is still looking for the perfect rich man.

They all make the trek to the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, a resort in Jaipur, India with marketing material much better than the dilapidated reality. The hotel is run by the young and energetic Sonny (Dev Patel), who dreams big but is unable to look after the details necessary to manage a business. Sonny is in love with Sunaina (Celia Imrie), much to the disapproval of his mother (Lillete Dubey). Evelyn finds a job at the call centre where Sunaina works, Douglas and Jean find themselves quietly drifting apart, Muriel has her surgery and encounters her own reflection in the hotel's silent cleaner. Graham looks for a long lost lover, while Norman and Madge continue their search for lust and marriage respectively. Meanwhile, Sonny struggles to keep the hotel financially viable and his mother at bay.

Directed by John Madden with a soft touch and deliberate pacing, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel combines wry humour with an exploration of options after life closes the obvious doors. Each one of the seven British characters has arrived at an unexpected fork in the road and is seeking a new window to open. But here the similarities end, and after gathering at the hotel, their journeys will take them in different and unexpected directions. There are occasional interactions and overlaps between various pairs, but this is film about personal discoveries rather than collective experiences.

There are past loves to be found, previously unknown strengths to be discovered, hard attitudes to overcome, and weaknesses to be confronted. New chapters in life are started, others are eternally closed, and some stale relationships finally dissolve. The Ol Parker screenplay (based on a Deborah Moggach book) maintains a steady state of evolution, and keeps the surprises coming to ensure an enjoyably unpredictable experience.

The screen time is almost evenly divided between the stories, but gradually Maggie Smith's layered portrayal of the overtly racist Muriel forms the central cultural bridge in the film. The wheelchair bound Muriel travels to India to take advantage of the affordable medical care provided by people that she looks down upon. Her journey encounters its twist when Muriel finds herself staring down at the servant that she used to be, and she cannot fail to empathize. It's the start of an awakening that will progress with Muriel pursuing her passion to run a big house in a culture that she will learn to embrace.

Tom Wilkinson's Graham looking for the first love of his life is prominent early on, while the story of the Ainslies finally having to confront each other with no boring careers to hide behind gains in prominence in the latter half of the film. The local adventures of Sonny dreaming big while being hopelessly incompetent at the details is probably an impersonation of his country. His love for Sunaina against his mother's wishes is cute and modernized in its sexual liberation, but finds a rather trite ending.

As can be expected from a cast of British screen veterans, the performances are uniformly excellent, and Madden controls most of his urges to meander into stereotypical scenes of India the exotic. Much like its guests, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel is filled with quirky secrets to discover, and the sense of grand history is rivalled only by the unmistakable sentiment that no matter the age of the structure, the future can still overcome the disappointments of the past.

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