I find British film exports generally very good to superb, but this one is an exception. It's billed (even on IMDb) as a comedy/romance, and someone should sue for false advertising. With the exception of the first five minutes, there is barely a desperately needed laugh in the entire movie. The rest of the 88 minutes is basically people yakking endlessly about love and romance, to the point where it is waist-deep in a slow-moving (at times static) 'narrative'.
Generous critics of this movie might want to call it a satire of the differences between British and French versions of love. And indeed it could have worked if the direction allowed it to 'breathe' as a satire. But it doesn't. Attempts at satire are sabotaged by the ponderous weight of the dialogue.
Hugh Bonneville plays Jed, who wants to marry his girlfriend of 10 years (Cheryl, played by Victoria Hamilton). But they discover they don't really love each other at all, thanks to the probing of a French psychiatrist and a French filmmaker who specializes in affaires d'amour. Meanwhile, Jed's best friend Marcus (Douglas Henshall) madly loves his girlfriend Sophie (Anne-Marie Duff), or so he says, before a chance encounter with his first love of 20 years before. Marcus wants to run off to (where else?) Paris to marry her, leaving Sophie behind, loveless and forlorn. But wait: Jed is also loveless and forlorn. Gosh, do you think maybe they'll get together? This wildly telegraphed ending comes about the 55-minute mark. The rest of the film is mere padding for the clichéd finale.
This movie cries out for some light touches here and there to air out its stuffiness. It is dirge-deep in talk of love and romance. Director Jackie Oudney has apparently never heard of the eloquence of silence in film.
Generous critics of this movie might want to call it a satire of the differences between British and French versions of love. And indeed it could have worked if the direction allowed it to 'breathe' as a satire. But it doesn't. Attempts at satire are sabotaged by the ponderous weight of the dialogue.
Hugh Bonneville plays Jed, who wants to marry his girlfriend of 10 years (Cheryl, played by Victoria Hamilton). But they discover they don't really love each other at all, thanks to the probing of a French psychiatrist and a French filmmaker who specializes in affaires d'amour. Meanwhile, Jed's best friend Marcus (Douglas Henshall) madly loves his girlfriend Sophie (Anne-Marie Duff), or so he says, before a chance encounter with his first love of 20 years before. Marcus wants to run off to (where else?) Paris to marry her, leaving Sophie behind, loveless and forlorn. But wait: Jed is also loveless and forlorn. Gosh, do you think maybe they'll get together? This wildly telegraphed ending comes about the 55-minute mark. The rest of the film is mere padding for the clichéd finale.
This movie cries out for some light touches here and there to air out its stuffiness. It is dirge-deep in talk of love and romance. Director Jackie Oudney has apparently never heard of the eloquence of silence in film.