“Le Week-End” Takes
You On A Picturesque Getaway To Hades
Film is full of great lovers, and today
they are bound less and less by age, location, time, or race. They
can make audiences swoon as they recall the tender first years of
their love, the joy and tears of what comes after, and even the
bittersweet years as they progress and the losses they must
inevitably face. Then there are the couple who show us the sobering
consequences when two people are tragically, perfectly matched by
their failings. “Le Week-End” is the latter.
Film is full of great lovers, and today
they are bound less and less by age, location, time, or race. They
can make audiences swoon as they recall
It revolves around Meg (Lindsay Duncan)
and Nick (Jim Broadbent), who are celebrating their thirtieth
anniversary with a weekend in Paris. But it doesn't take long to
discover that their marital bed is comprised less of roses than
thorns.
Dysfunctional couples are practically
the lifeblood of film, television, and any other media you can name.
But what's the point if none of the dysfunction is enough to make us
care, draw us in, or even really entertain us well?
Furthermore, what if one half of the
couple seems almost devoid of the basic characteristics that any sane
person would want in a partner? Nick may seem a bit inadequate to
grapple with some of the obstacles life throws his way, but that
merely makes him another person who hasn't lived up to his own
potential or expectations. Hardly a reason to condemn him.
His wife Meg, on the other hand,
doesn't seem to have any positive qualities whatsoever. She
constantly belittles and insults her husband, seems repulsed by his
touch and the kindness he shows her, informs him when she intends to
start an affair with another man, and threatens to break things off
with her husband on their anniversary. The only time she seems to be
able to be affable to Nick is after he suffers some kind of physical
pain. Hers is the brittle exterior of a character who can't seem to
stand living, the woman who's angriest when she has nothing to be
angry about.
By the end, I was baffled that anyone
who got to know her would actually choose to marry her, or even stand
spending any amount of time in her company. The pair may flirt with
parting ways, but as the movie progresses you can guess the end.
Meg and Nick have become twisted soul mates, matched because of the
crippling inadequacies and insecurities that have held them back and
prevented them from reaching the greater heights that they're capable
of. Separated, they may have been able to overcome them. Together,
they're brought to full bloom.
In the end, “Le Week-End” doesn't
make you believe in love; it makes you contemplate the beauty of
divorce. The gift of extricating yourself from the toxic grip of The
One who cannot be changed, fixed, or even persuaded to show
the most basic kindness to the person they manage to love.
When Nick's friend Morgan (or rather,
Jeff Goldlum playing Jeff Goldblum) shows up, it's a welcome relief,
even when his whiny teenage hipster son remarks on what a drag a
weekend in Paris is. What does it say about a movie when Goldblum is
the best and sanest thing about it? Really,
anyone who doesn't resemble Meg and Nick automatically comes off as
better.
The only remotely redeemable
factor in “Le Week-End” are Broadbent and Duncan themselves,
whose tremendous talent actually makes you believe the history and
dynamic between this couple. Because of them, they're not only
recognizable, they're believable. They're not bad. They're just
written that way.
Grade: D
