Making Quartet, a film about life in the spotlight and the drive to stay in the game, doesn't seem like much of a stretch -- or a risk --for Dustin Hoffman. With a storied career that is still lively at 75, he certainly knows the terrain.
But instead of delving into the human psyche, as he's done so unflinchingly in too many roles to mention, the actor's first turn in the director's chair is a genteel comedy.
Not to get xenophobic about it, but Quartet is a quintessentially British production from this quintessentially American actor. There are no echoes of Tootsie in its humor, or The Fockers, for that matter. It's set in a refined Masterpiece Theatre-styled world of aging musicians, their final days being played out in a British retirement home that has the elegant comfort of a squire's country estate.
Rather than fading flowers, they are a spirited bunch busy rekindling old flames and settling ancient grudges in between practicing scales. Add a mischievous rake and a diva or two, and you've got a delightful ensemble piece that hums along nicely, but lightly.
No doubt it was Quartet's heavy-on-the-acting, easy-on-the-action foundation that drew Hoffman's attention. He has certainly stacked the deck in the casting department. Cherry-picking from the U.K.'s upper crust, the movie stars Maggie Smith, Billy Connolly, Tom Courtenay, Michael Gambon and Pauline Collins.
The film, which Oscar-winning screenwriter Ronald Harwood adapted from his 1999 play, begins with a day in the life of Beecham House's various eccentrics. The tightest bond is between three opera singers, who were once part of a quartet. Cissy (Collins) is a daffy delight. When she is not rushing to a forgotten meeting, she's got music playing through her headphones. Reginald (Courtenay) is the scholar of the group, trying to make opera relevant for rap-devoted local youth, and his interaction with the teens is one of the film's best moments. Life proceeds at a leisurely pace here; a game of croquette or a garden stroll passes for action.
The bursts of energy that accompany practices and performances are woven throughout and give the film much of its vigor. A Tosca aria by real opera great Gwyneth Jones, who plays the house's reigning diva, is a high note.
But the house is in desperate need of a new star. Prayers are answered in the form of reluctant new resident and famed soloist Jean Horton (Maggie Smith). That she was once Reggie's wife adds another layer of tension.
But the real grist is regret about her career-over-marriage choice that led to her divorce with Reggie. He is still nursing those wounds, and news of her arrival puts him in a royal funk.
Quartet is very much a performance piece, which plays to Hoffman's strength -- as an actor, he knows when to allow this excellent ensemble breathing room and when to tighten the belt. The script has some nice turns of phrase and a lot of sentiment, but never reaches the emotional heights Harwood has in his best work, the Oscar-winning The Pianist topping all the rest.
At the end of the day, Quartet is about final acts, and in that it seems a film with modest aspirations -- no big bang here, just a troupe of old friends trying to put on the best show they can.
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