“Quartet”

Four stars

Starring: Maggie Smith, Tom Courtenay, Billy Connolly, Pauline Collins, Michael Gambon, Sheridan Smith

Rating: PG-13, and rather stupidly, for brief strong language

Strong ensemble cast highlights gentle drama about second chances

By Derrick Bang
Enterprise film critic

Music fills almost every frame of “Quartet,” whether created vicariously by this delightful story’s many talented characters, or delivered via Dario Marianelli’s evocative score, as a means to augment a reflective or dramatic moment.

Dustin Hoffman’s thoroughly engaging directorial debut, working from Ronald Harwood’s adaptation of his own stage play, is another charming — if occasionally bittersweet — reminder that life need not end at 60, 70 or even 80. We’ve seen quite a few such films recently, and while it’s not true that Maggie Smith has been in all of them, she certainly dominates this one.

And that’s no small thing, given the cluster of scene-stealers with whom she shares the screen.

She stars as Jean Horton, a once-celebrated opera vocalist fallen on hard times, whose career is naught but a fading memory; she now must swallow her pride and accept government-supported lodging at Beecham House, a retirement home for musicians. But we don’t meet her right away; Harwood first introduces us to the celebratory warmth and magic of Beecham itself, which echoes morning to night with the rich sounds of pianos, strings, woodwinds and quite a few other orchestral instruments, along with plenty of singing.

Beecham’s residents are a bit more a-flutter than usual, because they’ll soon be performing in the retirement home’s annual fundraiser, timed to celebrate the birthday of famed opera composer Giuseppe Verdi. The event is being helmed by the imperious Cedric Livingston (Michael Gambon), a fussy, fusty martinet who lounges about in day robes and barks commands like a traffic cop.

Contrasting Cedric is Reginald (Tom Courtenay), a calm, quiet and emotionally withdrawn scholar who gives occasional lessons in opera history to local teenagers. Harwood grants us a glimpse of one such session, and it’s utterly enchanting; we expect poor Reggie to be overwhelmed by these kids, but in fact his gentle but authoritative delivery holds their attention — and ours — as he considers the intriguing similarities between opera and rap.

Reggie’s best friend is Wilf (Billy Connolly), a sly, randy goat forever trying to make time with Beecham’s much younger doctor/administrator, Lucy Cogan (Sheridan Smith). Actually, Wilf is equal-opportunity; he also flings passes at his peers and the various nurses and staff members. One suspects that he wouldn’t quite know what to do if somebody took him up on such an amorous offer … then again, he’d clearly have a good time working it out.

Reggie and Wilf customarily share their meals with Cissy (Pauline Collins), a bright-eyed, effervescent bundle of energy who — sadly — is beginning to tiptoe down the road toward dementia. Sometimes we see the woman who must have captivated audiences as a performer: quite bubbly and flirtatious. Then, unexpectedly, she simply disappears into another region, often a fragment of her past pretending to be the here and now.

Collins handles this delicate role superbly. At first, we assume Cissy is merely absent-minded; we then realize that she spends far too much time enclosed within ear buds, wholly absorbed by the “somewhere else” that music seems to transport her.

Despite the obvious propensity for galloping egos, harmony reigns in Beecham … at least, until Jean shows up.

Smith’s arrival at this facility is a masterpiece of silent drama, with poor Jean flinching at every new sight and sound, during the drive up the grounds, like a frightened bird being stalked by some unseen predator. In fairness, this could be the usual initial reaction; Reggie, Wilf and Cissy might have been just as apprehensive, back in the day, before adjusting to what has become a comfortable routine.

Jean, however, isn’t ready to be agreeable; she isn’t even willing to socialize, insisting that her meals be delivered to her room. Worse yet, she has contentious “history” with Reggie, who is furious to learn of her arrival, angrier still that Dr. Cogan didn’t warn him about it. Details are slow to come, but this much is immediately obvious: Somewhere along the way, Jean broke his heart. And time has not healed that particular wound.

To Cedric, though, Jean’s presence is the answer to a prayer. Years and years ago, Reggie, Jean, Wilf and Cissy shared the stage during a still-celebrated opera production; having them together again, reviving the performance that cemented their collective fame, means being able to charge premium prices for the upcoming gala … and therefore increases the chances of a box-office take large enough to keep Beecham afloat.

Alas, this proves unlikely not only because of Reggie’s hostility, but also because Jean has abandoned singing. Performance stress and competition with her peers — one of whom, the regal Anne Langley (Gwyneth Jones), also resides at Beecham — prompted Jean to flee, almost in terror, from the demands of her own career. But this isn’t something she can admit to anybody, and thus she behaves with waspish aloofness toward everybody else in the retirement community.

And as we well know from “Gosford Park,” “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel,” eight Harry Potter movies and three seasons (and counting!) of television’s “Downton Abbey,” nobody can deliver a tart line better than Maggie Smith. Jean’s frosty jabs are to die for.

They’re also a self-defense mechanism, and of course we understand this immediately. The uplifting, resuscitating power of music notwithstanding, Beecham House can’t completely conceal what it actually is: the final curtain call for these troupers. Many (most?) of these people are present because they’ve already lost husbands, wives and lovers: the people who’d be caring for them elsewhere, under ideal circumstances.

Farewells obviously are a constant occurrence, and Harwood doesn’t let us forget that, either.

The softly developing drama unfolds in a rhythmic manner, Hoffman often interrupting — or punctuating — intimate encounters with exuberant rehearsals or spontaneous recitals. Harwood uses Jean’s character to stress his story’s key moral: Some of life’s cruel twists cannot be changed, as with Cissy’s deepening dementia. But our self-imposed constraints — withdrawal, apprehension, fear — can be overcome … and should be.

And we marvel at the cleverness with which Harwood has developed these four characters. Reggie initially seems the wise one, but in fact he’s shackled by his own bitterness; we eventually recognize the long-suppressed pain that fills his eyes and constricts his movements, once Jean appears. The flip, seemingly superficial Wilf actually is the perceptive nurturer; pay close attention to the way Connolly hovers protectively over Cissy, or the understated camaraderie that always cuts through Reggie’s hardened exterior.

Cissy, in turn, remains this group’s luminous heart, despite her tendency to drift. The mere thought of completely losing her actual self is shattering. Collins’ performance is every bit as subtle, Cissy’s emotional unpredictability every bit as compelling, as Smith’s handling of Jean.

Hoffman’s directorial approach is perhaps too leisurely, or Harwood’s screenplay a bit too sparse; the core quartet and primary supporting characters — Cedric, Dr. Cogan — obviously would have held audiences rapt during a live stage production, but this film would benefit from opening up, to allow more time with Beecham’s other assorted residents and staff members.

Be sure to linger during the closing credits, as now-and-then photos confirm that Hoffman filled Beecham House with celebrated talents who’ve led long and glorious stage and opera careers.

It’s the perfect coda to a thoroughly charming little drama.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at http://derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com

‘Brave’

3.5 stars

Starring (voices only): Kelly Macdonald, Billy Connolly, Emma Thompson, Julie Walters, Robbie Coltrane, Kevin McKidd, Craig Ferguson

Rating: PG, and somewhat generously, for rude humor and considerable scary action

All Pixar animated films are lush, impeccably mounted productions — every backdrop fine-tuned to the height of available imaging technology, every scene timed to comic perfection — and “Brave” is no different.

The long, long ago and far, far away Scottish Highlands setting has a verdant ambiance granted even greater verisimilitude by the careful application of 3D cinematography; the resulting full-immersion sensation is as breathtaking to us, in these early years of the 21st century, as William Garity’s ground-breaking multi-plane camera work was for audiences of Disney’s early 1930s and ’40s animated classics.

The characters here are fun and feisty, often exaggerated for comic relief, and led by Merida, a resourceful and headstrong heroine who is voiced fabulously by Kelly Macdonald. Merida’s pluck, determination and stubborn defiance of tradition are matched only by her flaming, flowing red tresses: as much a part of her presence and personality as her oh-so-familiar teenage angst.

All the elements are in place … except one.

The most important one.

However well Brenda Chapman’s original story may have flowed, as first conceived, it has become something of a mess in the hands of screenwriters Mark Andrews, Steve Purcell, Irene Mecchi and Chapman herself, along with (no doubt) the uncredited participation of many, many more Pixar staffers. The result plays less like a cohesive, thematically consistent narrative and more like a committee effort calculated to hit all the essential demographic targets.

That’s a shame. Pixar’s best films are truly original creations that establish their own trends; “Brave,” in contrast, too often echoes bits and pieces from other sources.

Indeed, a major plot point is lifted wholly — and quite disappointingly — from a 2003 Disney (non-Pixar) animated film, which I’ll not identify in order to avoid a major spoiler. But the prominence of this unexpected detour sends “Brave” into a direction rather at odds with its premise, while also compromising the integrity of Merida’s character to a somewhat unfortunate degree.

A brief prologue reveals that, even as a wee lass, Merida lacks the refinement and, ah, girlish composure that would be expected of the first-born daughter of King Fergus (Billy Connolly) and Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson). Merida is much more passionate about archery, an interest her father encourages by presenting the girl with a bow on her birthday … much to the displeasure of his wife.

Flash-forward about a decade, and Merida has grown into a bonny lass; she now has three impish little brothers — identical triplets Harris, Hubert and Hamish — who live to gorge themselves on sweets stolen by any means necessary. Merida loves nothing more than jumping atop her beloved Clydesdale, Angus, and plunging through the surrounding highland forests, where she has erected a maze-like obstacle course laden with hanging targets designed to further test her already impressive archery skills.

This is a joyous, exhilarating sequence that draws cheers each time one of Merida’s arrows hits its mark. It’s also by far the most exciting scene in the film, and therefore represents something of a mistake by co-directors Chapman and Mark Andrews. They set up expectations here, with respect to Merida’s archery skills, which aren’t fulfilled as the story builds to its eventual climax.

Because — and this is completely unacceptable — the eventual third-act crisis isn’t solved by anything having to do with Merida’s archery prowess. Can you imagine author Suzanne Collins foolishly deciding to take Katniss’ bow away from her, midway through “The Hunger Games”?

Anyway, Merida’s life takes a calamitous turn when she learns that she’s intended to wed the first-born son of one of three other unruly co-rulers of this land: massive Lord MacGuffin (Kevin McKidd); surly Lord Macintosh (Craig Ferguson), forever bedecked in blue war paint; and cantankerous, quick-tempered Lord Dingwall (Robbie Coltrane). Such a planned betrothal is traditional, Queen Elinor explains; the headstrong Merida sees only that her life is being ruined.

The girl first embarrasses the other clan lords (quite stylishly, it should be acknowledged). Then she has one of those calamitous arguments with her mother, with both women saying and doing things that they’ll have cause to regret. At which point Merida takes off, astride Angus, and winds up following a trail of ghostly, neon-blue will-o’-the-wisps that lead her into a magical realm of the forest.

One fateful encounter later, Merida returns home with the means to have a wish fulfilled … and we all know how that usually goes. In the grand tradition of all ill-advised bargains with magical entities, Merida’s wish has catastrophic consequences.

Things get dire in the third act, with a level of peril that occasionally overwhelms the family-friendly PG rating. Parents should think twice before bringing very young viewers; several sequences are quite scary. The climactic menace and bloodlust are completely at odds with the film’s playful set-up and deliberately exaggerated characters, particularly the silly clan lords and their even sillier first-born sons, who vie for Merida’s hand in marriage.

We’ve seen this juxtaposition of tone before, in other animated features. The similarly oafish Gaston turns quite nasty toward the end of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast,” while the final, incredibly massive beastie in “How to Train Your Dragon” is rather a shock, after spending so much time with that film’s mostly foolish Vikings.

But the savage events that concluded those two films felt more thematically appropriate, and consistent with the preceding storylines; both climaxes also allowed their respective protagonists to act bravely and honorably. That’s not quite the case in “Brave,” where I rather doubt that Merida has learned the necessary lesson; the denouement lets her off rather easily, considering previous transgressions.

Mostly, though, the story beats feel begged, borrowed and stolen: a bit of “Beauty and the Beast” here; a soupçon of “Lord of the Rings” there; a nod toward Disney’s “Snow White,” with a magic tart standing in for a poisoned apple; and a marvelous horse that — although an engaging supporting character — evokes memories of the similarly intelligent steed in Disney’s “Tangled.”

The Merida we meet, during the film’s first act, deserves better. She’s a vivacious, inspirational character who earns both our trust and respect … at first. But too much of what happens next feels contrived, most particularly a midpoint narrative shift so abrupt that it feels as if we — and Merida — have stumbled into an entirely different story.

I’d love to see the “Brave” that would have resulted from Chapman’s sole vision, but of course that’s impossible.

Meanwhile, I can only lament the unsatisfying, clumsily assembled storyline that simply doesn’t allow Merida to be her best self.

— Read more of Derrick Bang’s film criticism at derrickbang.blogspot.com. Comment on this review at www.davisenterprise.com