Le Week-End? Mon dieu, mon dieu, quelle horreur!

Here we go again with another couple of tedious hours about love in later life. Or rather the lack of it. Here comes Lindsay Duncan again, hotfoot from her unconvincing performance as a maternal Goddess in 'About Time,' this time turning in another unconvincing performance as a hot school-mistress from the Midlands, in Paris for the weekend with her redundant husband, Jim Broadbent. As a once-promising academic, Professor Broadbent exudes ageing sensitivity, sadness and frustration. In other words, he comes across as an old, whingeing wimp, for whom the best is over. This does not stop him begging for a reprise and a reprieve - but we know he is doomed. Worse still, he deserves to be.The opening sequences are painfully slow. Thankfully, the pace picks up when they check into a decent hotel, but not a lot. The exterior shots of Paris somehow manage to make this beautiful city totally uninviting. The Eiffel Tower is no better than Blackpool. The famous view from the steps of the Sacre Coeur might just as well have been a wide shot across Manchester on a dull day. Despite what you might read in the Sunday Times Culture, the saving grace for this over-rated film comes from Jeff Goldblum. Here at last is a character we can aspire to - accomplished, amusing, articulate, in a word, successful. And still man enough to enchant a nubile companion, half his age. The best performance in the whole production comes from his dope-smoking son. He comes across as totally authentic. In contrast Lindsay Duncan is Hampstead theatrical rather than the on-screen embodiment of a late middle-aged Midlands mistress. 'Mother' was disturbing. 'Venus' was entertaining. 'Le Week-End' is self-indulgent, embarrassing and ultimately shallow.