Saída à Francesa

With the adjective "French" in the title French Exit, much more can be expected than someone just leaving a country. With existential echoes and philosophical attitude the French can have over a croissant, an audience can see where writer Patrick DeWitt and director Azazel Jacobs are going in this low-key drawing-room comedy.

The glamorous Michell Pfeiffer plays sixty-year-old former Manhattan socialite Frances, who encourages thoughts that go from the losses aging brings to the mortality ultimately reserved for all. She has lost her wealthy businessman husband, Franklin (voice of Tracy Letts), who returns with the help of randy seer Madeleine the Medium (Danielle Macdonald) in the form of a black cat (yes, the occult element is one of the lighter elements of a film, described as a comedy but really a darkly and quietly humorous melodrama). Call it a farce because it's French, but don't expect to laugh much.

As in the work of Wes Anderson and Woody Allen (check out the Midnight in Paris-type music), the comedic turns are due largely to eccentric characters who don't fit snugly with the overarching themes of love and friendship at the end of things. At French Exit's end, it is far more melancholy than funny.

Dutiful son Malcolm (Lucas Hedges) accompanies her to a friend's flat in Paris (one of several friends to help her through her grief such as ditsy Madame Reynard, played by Valerie Mahaffey) never certain how to take his mother's sardonic wit, or maybe just amused while perhaps not knowing it is her time to exit. Whatever, Hedges plays him vulnerable and shy to the world and her (he can't bring himself to tell his mother he's engaged, for goodness's sake)

With echoes of Sartre and Camus, French Exit reminds the audience there is no exit from our common end. Gradually Frances is shedding her wealth, friends, and family and accumulating a retinue of characters who exist to remind her, it seems, of how inextricably we are tied to others until we are not.

"Do you ever feel that you've had adulthood thrust upon you at too young an age? And that... you're still essentially a child... mimicking the behaviors of the grown-ups all around you so they won't uncover the meager contents of your heart?"

A few minutes in, I thought this is going to be one of these movies that adopt some sort of a false pretense in order to satirize the rich and upper class. Well, as I finished the movie I still think it is. But the story's attempts to dodge clichés surrounding this type of films had me constantly not only striving to classify it, but also quite baffled to know what's the point of it in the first place. Suffice it to say, it meanders a lot, especially regarding its tone which I'm not sure either the first act or Pfeiffer's magnetic performance as the delightfully sardonic Frances Price were enough to set it properly. As I said, it's meandering. And the whimsy of it being turned up to eleven in spasmodic bursts - while perfectly suits the oddball characters and the Anderson-esque style the movie has about it - feels a bit incongruous with the tender and emotive core of the story that I could catch glimpses of as the story progresses and its caustic layer being peeled off sporadically. With some touches that border on surrealism and a beguilingly sinster flair, I believe the movie become very close to going completely off the rails in its latter half to the point of stretching its believability a little too far. But everything was done efficiently and with great panache so much so I couldn't help reconciling myself with whatever this film is trying to achieve and I think I was well rewarded. By the end, my concerns were slapped across the face for everything seemed to make perfect sense despite being admittedly all over the place, and I finally could figure out what it is about - hopefully. Without getting into details to avoid spoiling anything, I think French Exit is a character study of a woman, Frances Price, who tries to break away from the phony life she leads. She's fundamentally a good and "real" person, but she's confined to the stereotypes of her aristocratic social strata. She takes a huge step towards fulfilling her purpose, only to find that the consequences of such action come arbitrarily and at a time she's neither financially, mentally nor emotionally prepared for, the thing that resulted in her having a midlife crisis of sorts. Lucas Hedges does an excellent job at complementing this with his understated performance as Frances's son, Malcolm. But Pfeiffer really knocked it out of the park here! French Exit is a bizarre satirical dramedy that I may have enjoyed a little too much. It boasts some deadpan humour that I couldn't resist. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but it's definitely worth checking out.

I love when you see a movie that you know absolutely nothing about and therefore you do not expect anything, because when you see it, everything is a surprise, not expectations, only opportunities. French Exit managed to come to me in many ways, aesthetically clean, with a costume design like cherry on the cake and throughout the movie I couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful Michelle Pfeiffer looked.

Michelle Pfeiffer plays an eccentric and rather lost socialite whose money has run out, so she sells everything she has and moves, with her withdrawn son to Paris, ostensibly to die before her money, which she continues to spend apace, runs out.

There is a lot going on in this quirky, surreal dark comedy / drama - including an underlying mystery regarding the death of Pfeiffer's husband and his spirit's possible occupation of their cat and her son's on / off relationship with Imogen Poots. At the centre of all this and in large part the main reason for watching this is Pfeiffer giving a superb performance as the saddened but brutally effervescent Frances. There do seems to be things missing here and not all the supporting characters have sufficient heft but overall this is great pleasure with some deft comedy certainly some weird stuff and in the end great sweetness.

A french exit is the term for when one leaves a party without saying goodbye. There's an implied disrespect when one does that; a sense of anger or boredom, and those feelings hang over much of the movie but are leavened with a sprinkling of good humour as if the departed guest had left behind some unexpected gifts.

At first glance, it seems to be an icy drama about emotionally closed off, super-wealthy New Yorkers but it turns out to be a stealthy comic/absurdist deranged tale where supernatural events are taken as normal, and mediums and private detectives can move into one's life.

The plot, such as it is, starts out with Michelle Pfeiffer's character learning that all her money has been spent. She sells off what she has left, and moves to Paris with her aimless son (played by Lucas Hedges) and their cat (I don't remember who plays the cat) to move into an apartment being lent to her by a friend.

What becomes clear is that Pfeiffer's character intends to live only as long as she still has money, and she is deliberately spending it as fast as she can.

This description doesn't do justice to the left turns the narrative takes, but I won't say more - just know that contacting the dead, mega generosity to the homeless, and a spurned fiancée all form part of the narrative.

It's a bizarre mix, and yet something about it works. Despite the iciness of Pfeiffer and the uselessness of Hedges, they attract into their lives a bizarre group of almost... friends? It's almost as if, in spite of themselves, a group of misfits become their family and unlikely emotional bonds form. It's as if humans, despite how they may have closed themselves off due to past pain, can't help forming tribes, communities who need each other.

It's as if we can put up barriers (like money) between us, but we can't keep them up - sooner or later we have to let people in, or we die...

If someone told me, they can't get too into the emotional problems of the super-wealthy, I would get that but I think there is something more universal at work here.

The screenplay is by Patrick DeWitt based on his own novel. (He also wrote the book "The Sisters Brothers" is based on.) It's directed by Azazel Jacobs. I have not seen any of Jacobs' previous work but he directs here with a sure sense of space, and a flair for the chilly atmosphere. It's not flashy but it really does the job.

Everyone is always saying there should be more less sequels/remakes/brand-extensions. This movie is weird, and that's good.