As a portrait of middle-age boredom, dissatisfaction, fury and creeping mortality, Le Week-End may sound to some viewers like its too close to the bone to be that much fun. But in the capable hands of these fine filmmakers and actors, even its most bitter observations about life and aging are nearly always reliably balanced by moments of warmth, understanding.
93 minutes. Ann Hornaday is The Post's movie critic. Such a candid portrait of warts-and-all intimacy would be a slow, depressing slog were it not for the fact that it has been so gracefully executed: Roger Michell, known best for such sweet-natured romantic comedies as Notting Hill, directs a script by the great Hanif Kureishi (My Beautiful Launderette).
Meg (Lindsay Duncan) and Nick (Jim Broadbent) face familiar ups and downs during a Paris jaunt in Le Week-End. (nicola dove ) One of the joys of attending the 2013 Toronto International Film Festival was the generous helping of adult-oriented romance on offer, from Nicole Holofceners funny and wise Enough Said to the ruefully triumphant Chilean drama Gloria.
Nick worries about money and likes things settled. But gradually, Le Week-End reveals gnarlier truths beneath the neat categories, especially in bed, where Nick tries to rekindle amatory passion and is curtly rebuffed.
Youre hot, he says to Meg at one point. Hot but cold. Oof. Le Week-End continues in this vein, the exchanges alternating between tender and venomous, until a human wild card arrives on the scene in the form of Jeff Goldblum, who introduces notes of anarchic, daffy humor that send the film into flights of escalating, antic fancy a crescendo.
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