My Old Lady is cringeworthy cinema

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      Starring Kevin Kline and Maggie Smith. Rating unavailable.

      As William Shakespeare (or “someone”, according to Elvis Presley) once said, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Okay, but we’re not supposed to see the curtains and lighting in everyday life. And My Old Lady makes you so tediously aware that the players are fretting away their hour (-plus) on the stage, you may find your experience rounded by a little sleep.

      The bard here is Israel Horovitz, who’s had many hits on Broadway (his The Indian Wants the Bronx helped launch Al Pacino’s career) in his 75 years, but never before directed a feature-length film. It shows. My Old Lady’s problems extend far beyond the staginess you’d expect; the play itself is the thing, unfortunately, and Horovitz’s inexperience allows him to let two of his three leads overcompensate by running away with their undercooked parts.

      Kevin Kline is surprisingly cringeworthy as Mathias Gold, a destitute New Yorker hoping to change his luck with the valuable Paris apartment he just inherited from his late, very estranged father. The place is huge, with a lovely garden, but he just wants to sell and get the hell out. Trouble? There’s a sitting tenant, protected by an obscure French law that allows the original seller to stay there in perpetuity. The good news: Mathilde Girard is 92 and is played by Maggie Smith, who, as always, perfectly scales her persnickety nature to her part, even when it doesn’t give her enough to do.

      Instead of ingratiating himself while figuring out his next move, Kline’s foolish, alcoholic Gold blusters and mugs. And things get worse when he meets Girard’s daughter, played by an equally hammy Kristin Scott Thomas. She’s a middle-aged drifter, also angry about her troubled childhood. Hilarious! What could possibly come of this, given all the fiduciary, and dramatic, constraints?

      Things improve, occasionally, when we hit the streets of Paris to briefly meet some colourful characters, such as the friendly realtor played by Dominique Pinon, the elfin actor we know from Amélie and Delicatessen. But then it’s back to the theatre, I mean, the apartment, where our trio have their entrances and exits—the latter of which can’t come soon enough.

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