Mr.Morgan's Last Love

Here's something for you to watch this weekend (yes, it's on Netflix). Mr. Morgan's Last Love (Or, Last Love) based on Francoise Dorner's novel La Douceur Assassine.  

I read just a couple reviews of it and they all said what I'd imagined they might -- the dialogue was a bit stilted at times, a dodgy accent from Caine, the film, taken as a whole was indecisive, slow-moving. 

Buuut, I'm ok with that. And I, for one, found it extremely enjoyable to watch in a comfy sweater, over a cup of coffee. I usually could care less about what happens in a movie, and care infinitely more about the artistic details. Give me a character-and-aesthetic-driven film (or book) and I'm your girl, forever. I appreciated that the conflicts felt real, and that it wasn't made overly maudlin or fantastical. But, to each her own.

The film is undeniably good-looking. 

Here's what I enjoyed, what you might enjoy, too: 

-Sweeping (and intimate) shots of Paris (and Brittany, and Brussels, and Cologne).

-Michael Caine, the arbiter of all things old-manly and adorable.

-It put me in a writing mood.

-Aesthetically, it was...moody. The light felt like a character in the movie to me. Each scene was its own idyllic snapshot and place, and time of day, setting -- really carried the story, too. 

-Holy autumnal goodness. 

-Mr. Morgan's apartment. 

-The musical score. 

-Finally, and most importantly,  Clémence Poésy (in all her soft, gallic loveliness) is magnetic, and her pared-down, simple wardrobe is an absolute dream. 

This, definitively, is why I am not a movie reviewer. But I do enjoy watching them. So I'll continue doing that.