JUNE 26, 2017
With enormous fanfare, the summer movie season spectacularly limped out of the gate seven weeks ago with a series of bombs that were met with critical brickbats and indifferent box-office. So far, in fact, there are only two unquestionable hits – “Guardians 2” and “Wonder Woman.” Otherwise, the summer’s parade of duds (which include “King Arthur,” “Snatched,” “Alien: Covenant,” “Pirates 5,” “Baywatch,” “The Mummy” and just this weekend, “Transformers 5”) has cast an unexpected pall at the nation’s theaters.
Anticipating that, several small art-house films have dared to enter the fray to offer themselves as counter-programming. The ploy has worked before — both “Moonrise Kingdom” in 2012 and “Before Midnight” in 2013 were big hits competing against mediocre blockbusters, but this year’s crop hasn’t broken through the way those films had.
One exception, however, is Eleanor Coppola’s “Paris Can Wait,” a combination romance/travelogue that features Diane Lane wandering throughout the south of France. I can see the appeal — delectable food and wine as well as the beauty of Provence for just the price of a movie ticket. What’s not to love?
Plenty, as it turns out. “Paris Can Wait” is one of the most annoying films I’ve seen in years.
“Paris Can Wait” is written and directed by Eleanor Coppola (wife of Francis Ford and mother of Sofia), who is primarily known as a documentary filmmaker. She co-directed one spectacular doc, 1991’s “Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse,” which chronicled the trainwreck that was the filming of her husband Francis’ masterpiece “Apocalypse Now” in which she captured star Martin Sheen’s nervous breakdown and the fiery destruction of the movie’s main set. You won’t be able to take your eyes away.
“Paris Can Wait” is a different story entirely. This is Coppola’s first fiction film, and it proves that she should stick with documentaries. The premise of the film is promising — film producer Michael (Alec Baldwin, offering yet another variation of the work-obsessed neglectful husband that he’s been perfecting since “Blue Jasmine”) learns that he must quickly fly to Budapest to extinguish the blowup on yet another one of his films. En route to their private jet, his wife Anne (Diane Lane) gets an earache and is told that she must not fly. This ruins the couple’s plans to have a romantic time in Paris, but Michael’s French producing partner Jacques (Arnaud Viard) offers to drive Anne to Paris so that they can keep their date.
So far so good. They hit the road together, and for a while, it’s very pleasant to watch the French countryside go by and even to listen to the somewhat arch chit-chat between Jacques and Anne. When Jacques suggests they pull over to stay at a beautiful little town he knows, there’s a hope that the film will finally get going. No such luck. Dinner is comprised of Jacques listing all the tourist traps in this town, then some pornographically photographed food, followed by Jacques trying charmingly but unsuccessfully to get in Anne’s pants.
They get back on the road. Oh look, another town! Let’s have dinner! Tourist traps, beautiful food and get in her pants.
Back the next day. Oh look, another town! Let’s have dinner! Wash, rinse, repeat. By this time, I was ready to scream at the screen “Just take her to Paris, you oversexed twit!”
And that’s “Paris Can Wait.” Seriously, that’s the entire movie. And if I spoiled it for you, you’re welcome.
It would be one thing if the dialogue was sparklingly witty, but Coppola’s dialogue is shockingly vapid, with Anne muttering her vague disillusionments with her marriage and Jacques trying to move in on her in town after endless town. Coppola has said that she doesn’t consider herself a writer, and on that point we agree.
Lane is charming as always, and the food looks absolutely mouth-watering. But if you’re looking for a film with any kind of substance, “Paris Can Wait” can wait.
GRADE: D+
