This movie is kind of a chore. Supposedly it’s about going on with life after the death of a loved one, but 3 years after Matthew Morgan (Michael Caine) loses his wife, he’s still puttering around Paris like a lost puppy dog and it’s uncomfortable to watch and also kinda boring.
“There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in” – and just like that, a young lady appears in the picture, the lovely Clémence Poésy as Pauline, and is either the crack or the light. Repeat a vaunted Leonard Cohen lyric enough and I’ll almost start to believe this movie doesn’t suck. Almost.
Michael Caine just can’t keep his shit together. His American accent is a joke. He’s a dick who keeps correcting the french when they make attempts to communicate with him, yet hasn’t bothered, in all his time in Paris, to even learn basic vocabulary in their language. In the middle of mopey, maudlin crap you cringe and laugh at his unintentionally funny stumbles through languages, both pigeon french and his supposedly-native English. And since he can’t really commit to his lines, there’s just no point here. His kids sweep in, Gillian Anderson and Justin Kirk, and do absolutely nothing to revive the film. Nothing can save it. It’s painful.