(Did I drink too much wine - or does that waiter actually look like Russell Crowe? And if so, will he do a Gladiator strip-tease/lapdance if I give him $50 bucks?)
CAST: Russell Crowe, Albert Finney, Marion Cotillard, Tom Hollander, Abbie Cornish, Archie Punjabi, Didier Bourson, Isabelle Candelier, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, Kenneth Cranham.
DIRECTOR: Ridley Scott.
WARNING: SPOILERS and mucho eye candy straight ahead - human, scenic, and architectural.
It's easy to say when I first became a fan of Russell Crowe. It was definitely before GLADIATOR (2000) turned him into the mega-star that he is. It was definitely not after I'd seen him in VIRTUOSITY (1995) or THE QUICK AND THE DEAD (1994) which were two of his first roles on these shores. While Crowe had a strong presence, delivered solid performances, and was more than equal to the veterans around him (Denzel Washington, Gene Hackman, Sharon Stone), his roles in VIRTUOSITY and THE QUICK AND THE DEAD weren't the kind that sets an actor apart from the pack - or make people whisper: "My. God. Who. Is. THAT!??"
Then, in 1997, he starred in L.A. CONFIDENTIAL as troubled LAPD cop Bud White. I don't know about the rest of the world, but this is when I got hooked on Russell Crowe. As White, Crowe was a dazzling combo of brute strength, boyish vulnerability, and surprising decency. White's complicated romance with fellow damaged soul Lynn Bracken (Kim Basinger) was the bruised beating heart of the film, and is what most people remember the most from L.A. CONFIDENTIAL. All around the world you could practically hear everyone whispering about Russell Crowe: "My. God. Who. Is. THAT!???"
Flash forward almost ten years later and we find Crowe playing yet another troubled soul. This time he's playing Max Skinner, a highly successful London trader who is also - if his rivals and colleagues are to be believed - the AntiChrist. And that's just fine by Max. In his mind, no one gets ahead by being nice. Indeed, so ruthless and ambitious is Max that he boldly defies the "gentleman's agreement" between the various trading houses - and makes a killing during an eventful day's trading by bending the rules. Evidently, someone forgot that they're not dealing with a gentleman. Not even close.
Max wasn't always like this. In flashbacks, we see him as a kid (Freddie Highmore) spending summer days at his Uncle Henry's (Albert Finney) chateau in Provence. Uncle Henry is the kind of uncle that everyone picks as their favorite: permissive, yet not a pushover. Young Max learns quite a bit from Henry, not the least of which are: the importance of a smart blue suit, the different kinds of wine, the art of playing chess, and how to lose gracefully at tennis. Actually, Henry doesn't quite succeed at teaching young Max this last one. Which is the first sign that Max will grow up to be quite the remarkable asshole.
So - back in the present, we find Max riding twin waves of adoration and accusation over his ethically-questionable trading tactics. Seems that an investigation is underway to determine whether what he did was allowable. For his part, Max treats this news like someone just told him his favorite TV show is being pre-empted for a broadcast of David Blaine making the London Bridge disappear: he rolls his eyes and sees what's on elsewhere. And what he finds is: a letter from a French notaire delivering some rather upsetting news. No, it's not about David Blaine making the Eiffel tower disappear as his next trick. The bombshell is that Max's beloved Uncle Henry has passed away.
Max grieves for, oh, a millisecond before his ruthlessly pragmatic side kicks in. He commands his terminally droll assistant, Jemma (Archie Punjabi), to arrange a trip for him to Provence. As soon as he arrives in South Frogland, he discovers that the rental car Jemma got for him is a (wait for it) Smart Car. Yes, folks. She gets him a car that he can barely fit one toned buttock in. And heaven forbid that he makes the mistake of sprouting a boner while trapped in the Moving Sardine Can, because the fucking thing will likely explode from internal pressure. Hilarious, Jemma. Ballsy, too. Because, see, I was once an executive assistant myself, and if I had pulled that kind of shit on my boss (who was the nicest guy this side of the Cascades), he would have decapitated me and fed my heads to the seals at the Seattle Aquarium. Imagine what a certified prick like Max Skinner is going to do to Jemma when he gets back to London. Girl, you better hide that ass.
After several years of trying to navigate his way through the Tuscan, er, Provencal countryside, Max finally finds his Uncle Henry's estate, which - apparently - is named "La Siroq." Which must be French for "The Owner of This Chateau Has a Nephew Who is a Remarkable Asshole." Oh, and excuse me, but the what the fuck is up with Europeans naming their houses? When you figure this out, please let me know. Or maybe we Yanks should start doing the same - so that on weekends, I can invite friends over to the shoebox of a flat that I live in by saying, "Yes, dah-lings, I am having a dinner party at Dickhaven on Friday night. Won't you come? RSVP, though, because there's very little street parking outside Dickhaven. And Dickhaven's garage? Do not get me started, dah-lings. Otherwise, living at Dickhaven is, well, paradise. Hoorah, Dickhaven!"
But enough of Dickhaven, and back to La Siroq... Max's plan is simple: (1) sell LaSiroq, (2) go back to London as soon as possible, and (3) continue being a remarkable asshole. Unfortunately, several things happen which put a nice fat turd in that proverbial punchbowl: (1) Max's boss, Sir Nigel (Kenneth Cranham), suspends him - which forces Max to (2) stay longer in Provence, where he gets to know (3) the caretaker, Duflot (Didier Bourdon) and (4) his wife (Isabelle Cantelier), who tell him that La Siroq is their home and (5) his Uncle Henry would be rolling over in his grave if he knew what his remarkable-asshole nephew is planning to do.
Further complicating matters are, ahem, two women who suddenly figure prominently in the plot: Fanny Chenal (Marion Cotillard) and Christy Burns (Abbie Cornish). Fanny is a ravishing and boner-inducing French chick whom Max nearly runs off the road because he's so busy fiddling with his... Palm Pilot. No, that is not code for "penis." He really is trying to check his emails - which is good because, as I mentioned before, if he would have seen Fanny and sprouted a boner while sitting in that cramped Smart Car, it would have surely exploded. She gets revenge on him later, however, when he falls into an empty pool (don't ask) with no shallow end or ladder (said don't ask), and Fanny wanders by and turns on the water valve in an attempt to drown Max (ask away). For his part, Max responds in that timeless way that men respond to beautiful women who treat them like shit: he falls in love with her.
And Christy? Well, turns out that Uncle Henry was somewhat of a he-whore, and bedded anything with an orifice that could pass for a vagina - on both sides of the Atlantic. Christy's American mom was such a person (and even had her own honest-to-goodness vagina - bonus!). All this by way of saying that Christy might be Henry's daughter which means - you got it - she would technically own La Siroq. Leaving Max in the precarious position of not only (1) losing his job in London, but also (3) losing La Siroq to his possible cousin, and (3) losing his quickly thawing heart to Fanny.
The rest of A GOOD YEAR charts Max's transformation from ruthless carnivorous careerist - to sweet and gentle soul who rediscovers his innocence through La Siroq and the people around it. What are you rolling your eyes for? It could happen. Anyhow, Max comes to a point where he must choose between cheating Christy out of her inheritance and selling La Siroq before returning to London - or settling down permanently in Provence with Fanny. Hmmmmm.... Let's think about this: stay in rainy, damp, crowded city filled with people with bad teeth? Or move to sunny, warm, gorgeous countryside and relentlessly fuck hot French chick?
Pack my bags. Now.
BUT, SERIOUSLY: Coming across like a variation on UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN, A GOOD YEAR is a refreshing dip into some relaxing and soothing cinematic waters. The gorgeous Provencal countryside is almost a character in itself. Ridley Scott (director of ALIEN, BLACK RAIN, GLADIATOR, BLACK HAWK DOWN, HANNIBAL) seems like an unusual choice to direct a romantic comedy, but he acquits himself well. He brings a brisk, masculine pace to the story - which is matched by a brisk and thoroughly masculine performance from Russell Crowe, himself an unusual choice for a romantic comedy protagonist. In the end, though, these unexpected elements succeed in making A GOOD YEAR appealingly offbeat and quirky. Russell Crowe, in particular, makes Max's journey of self-discovery particularly compelling to watch. Crowe makes Max so magnetic that even when the character is being an asshole extraordinaire, you can't help but be drawn to him like a moth to the flame. But this is no one-note performance, because Crowe is able to also show Max's deepening feelings for La Siroq and the various folks he encounters in its vicinity - especially Fanny.
Speaking of Fanny, this was the first film that I noticed Marion Cotillard (INCEPTION) in, and I can see why they cast her: she's a very skilled actress. Fanny is a nice blend of fiery passion and reticent vulnerability. You can see why Max would fall for her. As Christie, Max's unexpected cousin, Abbie Cornish is fine. However, I would've preferred if Christy had been turned into a male character. Don't get me wrong - I am and always will be an advocate of more female roles in films. However, having Christie constantly flitting on the edges of the Max-Fanny romance creates a sort of odd tension that would have been side-stepped if the character had been made into a young man. This would have created an older man-younger man, mentor-protege type of relationship that would have mirrored Max's connection to his Uncle Henry. Plus, it would have made the Max-Fanny romance more distinctive. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast is quite good, especially Tom Hollander as the closest thing that Max has to a friend. Special mention should also got to Archie Punjabi, who is simply terrific as Max's personal assistant. You can tell that under her tart impatience toward her boss lies deep affection (platonic, of course).
In the end, while it's not as good as UNDER THE TUSCAN SUN, A GOOD YEAR succeeds because of its talented star and the talented director guiding him. While some may write this off as just a pretty travelogue with beautiful people cavorting within it, I find it to be a reasonably well-made piece of light entertainment that finally answers the question of: "I wonder what would Russell Crowe be like in a romantic comedy."
The answer? "Just fine, thank you."
