I'm quipless too, Martin. Wait, how about: I didn't realize Scott Thompson's Uptight Straight Guy had a soul!
This is a pretty good movie, folks. Good script that doesn't try to make anyone "right" -- in fact, both the "sensual socialist" Rémy and his son, Sébastien, the "puritanical capitalist" can be insufferable, and it's a credit to the script and the actors that I never lost sympathy for them. As a writer, I'm still trying to figure out what exactly Arcand does to make all the characters, even the minor ones, feel so well-drawn. (Certainly one of his best choices is to give Sébastien's fiancé a job and make her good at it.)
If it's "only" a good movie and not a great one (and good ones are so hard to find), it's because I'm not sure groups of friends, however close, have such witty and profound conversations in real life. And on the big screen, listening to these ex-radicals from the sixties talk about blowjobs, it can get a bit twee. But then again, maybe that's the price that's paid to establish a strong rapport between these friends.
Where we saw it: film | We deign to rate it: outta 100Blowjobs aside, Acrand and Whit Stillman are kindrid spirits. Their movies are inhabitied by these characters who have idealized "intellectual" discussions. They don't speak down to the audience, but (of course) they are modified from what a real conversation with intellectuals might be like.
Most intellecutals I know are a little less snappy and a lot more thoughtful. They might say the same things these characters do, but it'll take them an hour to get to the point.
But, I love going to a movie where all of the cinematic excitement is focused heavily on words. It's the "My Dinner with Andre" redemtion cycle, and I'm happy to be a part of it.
Posted by: Martin at March 1, 2004 12:43 PM