Madame Claire wakes up one morning with a premonition of her own death, so she decides to sell off all her stuff. Which is an awful lot of stuff. This results in a reunion with her estranged daughter, the evocation of old memories and the increasing awareness that senility is sinking in.
The story proceeds at a languid pace, which is a nice way of saying it doesn’t half drag. We gradually learn more about Claire’s past, but never really get a sense of why we should be more interested in this woman’s life than anyone else’s.
Well, there is one reason. This is Catherine Deneuve, acting royalty, starring opposite her own daughter. But an actor is only as good as the role that they’re given, as there’s not much to work with here.
I think I read that the director filmed it in the grounds of her grandparents’s mansion, which would make sense. There is no sense of a writer starving sweating blood in a garret to produce a work of monumental relevance. Its more an object in possession porn as all the stuff that Claire has accrued is reverently filmed.
The last 2 minutes are quite fun with a larger than planned firework diisplay, but its been a long wait. For the second day running its a film that drags despite only being an hour and a half long. Maybe I should go to Franchise Film after all.