I suppose I'll receive a lot of slag for beginning this review by stating it was immediately apparent that this sleeper hit from England was adapted not only from a novel, but one written by a woman. I'm not sure if that has any sort of relevance to anything, I just think it was interesting that one can watch the opening montage in which seven unhappy pensioners are introduced to us and know right away that it was written a member of the delicate sex. Perhaps I stereotype women as being obsessed with age and constantly trying to rejuvenate themselves, or maybe I simply recognized that if a man were to write on the subject matter at hand, it would have been done with fewer smiles and more biting truth. Take "Amour", for example, another film about growing old that came out the same year, which handles the prospect of death with realism and dignity. I thought it was obviously written by a man, and I was right. Call it misogynistic, but I still guessed correctly.
Issues arose for me as soon as I had this realization owing to the accurate assumptions that the film would then a series of formulas played out exactly, and there would be few realizations for the audience or for the characters themselves. There would be some heartache, some golden years romance, probably a death or two, but happy endings for all. Many thanks to writer Deborah Moggach would have been given were I placing money on my guesses. But I get ahead of myself...
In the late years of their lives seven seniors leave Ol' Blighty, which they believe doesn't care for their elderly, to move permanently to an Indian hotel specializing in looking after people late in their lives. It is run by spirited dreamer Sonny (Dev Patel, from "Slumdog Millionaire"), a hapless young man with aspirations aplenty but a decisive blindness to the reality that his hotel is destined for failure. The seven arrive with their lives in their suitcases, all their different stories folded up with stiff upper lips and bland biscuits, ready to pursue adventure in an exotic new world.
Amid the well-used stories about fears of uselessness and adapting to a new culture, I got the vague sense that the film was unwittingly making the claim that the Empire was grand and rose-colored days of the good ol' boys drinking brandy under the Raj needed reclamation and affirmation. It certainly accomplishes that, if that was indeed its goal. India seems full of charm and color; the extreme deprivation and horrible conditions of Delhi are glossed over and made to look even endearing. In the end I found this to be less of a movie and more of a travel brochure.
Of course, John Madden's saving grace is the masterful cast of seasoned veterans that he has assembled. Really, the stars of the film are his casting director and his location scout, but in terms of acting he has a slew of actors ready to elevate an easy and fairly pointless script. Judi Dench, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson and a wonderful Maggie Smith are just a few of the massive names attached to the project, each of them giving far more than the film deserves. Wilkinson and Smith have the best stories, so it's a shame that they had a relatively small amount of screen time. What should have been theirs was given to Sonny's silly love story which was poorly written, poorly acted and very unengaging.
I can certainly see the appeal of such a film. There is most definitely a target audience that this is directed towards--the crowd who will be watching it in theatres on a Tuesday afternoon. That, however, was not me, and although the old people jokes were funny for a while, they soon became as dried out as the characters themselves. After that it was simply an hour of watching events unfold exactly as you expected them to. Heartache, love, death, happy endings for all. I half expected a conversation on the joys of menopause.
It's great fun watching terrific actors poke fun at themselves, I just wish they were brought together with a script worth their talents.
2/4
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