When a movie starts out with a soundtrack that is more suitable for an hotel elevator, then it really doesn’t bode well for what is to follow. Even with a really talented cast that included Diane Lane, Alec Baldwin and veteran French actor Arnaud Viard, this debut feature film written and directed by Eleanor Coppola turned out to be painfully dull. Whether Paris could wait was irrelevant, as sadly we couldn’t wait to see the final credit rolls to see if it got any better.
Lane plays Anne who is in Cannes for the Film Festival with Michael her successful producer husband (McGowan) as he had promised her a proper vacation when work was over. The trouble is that it never is and he spends the whole time on his cellphone wheeling and dealing that he barely notices her. The plan is that they will now fly in a private jet to Budapest where one of his latest movies is being filmed, but Anne who is suffering with an ear infection decides at the last moment that its not safe for her to take the flight in this condition.
Instead Michael’s French business partner Jacques (Viard) offers to drive her to Paris in his antique sports car. She accepts even though it soon becomes clear that neither the car or she may make it intact by the time they arrive in the French capital. Jacques is going to take the long way there anyway planning to stop constantly in any small town or village where there is gourmet food and an attractive woman who has fond memories of him. In fact this very slight story with very little suspense is essentially a pretty travelogue extolling the virtues of fine French cuisine and middle-aged lotharios who may or may not manage to act like a perfect gentleman with their best friend’s wife.
The dialogue is clumsy and awkward, and the normally reliable Lane struggles with a poor script that really lets her down badly. Try as hard as she may, there is no way we are convinced that she has good reason to ever change from being a faithful wife to actually letting her guard down and giving in to the overly-flirtatious Jacques.
If only they had just focused more on the food and wine like Michael Winterbottom’s Trip series of movies with Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon cavorting around Europe, and not got side tracked on whether Anne was ever going to be the desert, it would have all been much more appetizing.
