My Old Lady
A film so stuffy and slow-moving that it makes its geriatric headliner look positively spritely by comparison.
Overview
It doesn't matter how good your cast is if you don't give them a compelling story to tell. That's the lesson of My Old Lady, the motion picture debut of playwright Israel Horovitz. An obvious stage-to-screen adaptation that shows little consideration to the differences between the two, it's a film so stuffy and slow-moving that it makes its geriatric headliner look positively spritely by comparison.
The great Maggie Smith plays the old dame in the title, a 92-year-old British expatriate named Mathilde Gerard, who lives in a spacious Parisian apartment thanks to a peculiar French real-estate law called a viager. Under the arrangement, Madame Gerard receives regular cash instalments from a buyer, who will eventually gain full ownership of the property when the old lady finally dies. It's a fantastic deal for her, but a right pain in the arse for Matthias Gold (Kevin Kline), a deadbeat New Yorker who inherits the building in his estranged father's will.
So Matthias skulks around Paris, trying to figure out a way to sell his newfound property while contending with his stubborn new tenant and her hostile adult daughter, Chloe (Kristen Scott Thomas). But soon the comic setup gives way to something much more serious. Information comes to light regarding the relationship between Matthias' father and Gerard, unscrewing the lid on a can of Daddy Issues in the process.
It's interesting subject matter, to be sure. The problem is that Horovitz doesn't know how to translate his material to the screen. A vast majority of the truly relevant action takes place inside Gerard's apartment — and no number of aimless shots of Paris can disguise the film's origins on the stage. The dialogue itself feels better suited to the theatre as well, with a number of theatrical monologues in the movies' second half running unnecessarily long.
At least it goes without saying that all three of the film's main actors are fantastic. Frankly, it's hard to think of a single bad performance across their entire combined body of work. In truth though, none of their characters are particularly easy to like, each one of them consumed by a mixture of blind entitlement and self-pity. That's the other lesson to be learned from My Old Lady. When a film's central conflict comes down to bickering over a $9 million deed, it's difficult to feel much sympathy for anyone involved.
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