This is a review of Le Week-End (2013)
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16 October
This is a review of Le Week-End (2013)
* Unlike the director's cut, it may be possible to read this version and still see the film without knowing too much already *
I loved Lindsay Duncan in Shooting the Past, vulnerable but knowing, so it is only the ever-present hat that gives me pause with Le Week-End
— THE AGENT APSLEY (@THEAGENTAPSLEY) October 16, 2013
Thankfully, Lindsay Duncan only wears the hat at the end - and one soon forgets the title...
Experimentally, I have rated the film 76 = S : 13 / A : 15 / C : 11 / M : 12 / P : 13 / F : 12 - follow this for explanation...
The end references a film clip from Godard, conveniently - unless it is a DVD, not t.v. - on the screen earlier on, but it have been nicer for the film just to have mimicked it, without explanation...
I am unsure about that (or the message that it sends, which will be visited in the director's cut of this posting). I also wonder about Haneif Kuresihi writing the screenplay, and will also need to look into that.
As to the raggedness, when trying to characterize it to someone after the screening who had not seen it, we agreed that the over-elaboration of different styles and types of shot highly resembled someone who is doing a first PowerPoint presentation, and, just because he or she can, having this slide coming in from the left, the next one dissolving - it does not add to the cinematic discourse, but disperses our attention when the crisp focus does not have a function, the arty shot with foregrounded objects wildly out of focus another, and becames variation for the sheer reason of being able to do it, rather than advancing the interpretative message.
The music leaves something to be desired, too. Famously, in the soundtrack to Ascenseur pour l'échafaud (Elevator to the Gallows), Miles Davis and his quintet improvised it in December 1957 : rather cheaply, the composer's sub-Milesian tones were just brought in, from time to time, to convey the beauté triste (if that is the right word order) of Paris, lovers, life. Otherwise, it sounded more like shopping music, vaguely colouring the mood with a sort of sepia, or hitching a ride on Dylan (or the Godard film).
I had my reservations, but the Jim Broadbent strand in Cloud Atlas actually worked in well - plus he is in Le Week-End (avec Le Toast)...
— THE AGENT APSLEY (@THEAGENTAPSLEY) October 16, 2013
Those are the very bad things. The plus, an immense one, is the performances of Duncan (Meg Burroughs) and Jim Broadbent (as her husband Nick), although one did feel that one had been there a bit before with a quietly spoken Duncan not knowing her own mind or why she hides behind her husband and such reputation as he has. That apart, when she says that she'd like to stop teaching, learn Italian, play the piano, and dance the tango, we utterly believe in her desire to transform her live.
We believe in this couple, the dangerousness of being them, and how they surprise, hurt and electrify each other. We believe in Nick, despite an injured knee, on all fours, and wanting to scent Meg's vagina. We believe in him trailing after her, forlornly calling out Meg, Meg, wait, no, when she flounces out on him.
With Jeff Goldblum in the equation, who seems totally unknowing but not necessarily insincere, the implausibility creeps in - as is said at a dinner party, his character, Morgan, is always loud. What we have to say is how he would he possibly have recognized Nick, in a passionate embrace (cheered on by younger French people), from the back of his head, and how, in this world of Facebook and Google, he would not possibly, if he wanted, have known what Nick was doing and made contact. Morgan's entry, not least as described, seemed forced, as if rescuing the plot from not knowing what it intended.
Goldblum's role just about works, though, nice though it was to see him, he was unremarkable. With the film ending as it does, he ends up as more of a magical figure - and, after what Nick says at dinner, it is hard to imagine that Morgan would be calling down the stairs saying when do you leave, do you have to go, send me a text-message, if you do not want to talk.
All in all, the Morgan involvement is unhurried, but lax in the overall sense of cramming in the enjoyment, and clearly only there to provide a deviation from Nick and Meg just together. I am not sure that it spoils the film, but one imagines that Kureishi could have made progress with the couple (in the film's terms) in some way less striking as a contrivance.
Despite the gratuitous ragged cinematography, the film deserves a watch, if only to mull over these questions afterwards.
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Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)
