I like it when characters don’t give a shit whether you like them or not. It gives them the freedom to be their authentic (fictional) selves. French Exit is populated with such characters. They’re not super sweet – at times they’re not even polite or nice – but they’re good company for a couple of hours. And they’re funny. That’s the Wild Card – humor makes everything okay.
Michelle Pfeiffer plays Frances Price – once a New York socialite, now a near-broke widow who is both bored with the scene and no longer really a viable part of it. She has kind of a weird relationship with her adult son, Lucas Hedges, played with a pitch perfect tone of…something. Is it indifference or boredom, I don’t know – but his character is written as a perfect match for Pfeiffer who is surely unrivaled in her ability to play “so over it.”
She sells everything she can and sets sail for Paris(characters like this don’t fly, I guess) with her son, her cash and her cat, “small Frank,” who is voiced by the great Tracey Letts. I hope I won’t lose you when I say that we are meant to accept that this black cat is her dead husband. Letts’ frank, unbothered delivery helped me buy into that. I’m not sure if the filmmakers were fucking with me, but I bought into it.
So Frances and son arrive in Paris, where they will stay at the apartment of an acquaintance of hers. In New York, on the ship and in Paris, eccentric characters in small roles come in and out of their lives. Like the main characters, you won’t like them all, but you will remember them.
Don’t expect a tidy, traditional narrative arc. Just go with it.
This won’t be for everyone, but if a film can make you care about people who don’t give a shit about you, then you’re doing something right.
3 out of 4 Stars | MPAA Rating: R. Running time: 103 min | Reviewed by Kyle Osborne http://tickets.frenchexitmovie.com/tickets/
