French Exit

Michelle Pfeiffer and Lucas Hedges star as a rich woman and her son who lose their fortune and flee to Paris. Sometimes hilarious and compelling, but also contrived and disjointed.

In “French Exit” director Azazel Jacobs brings to life the compelling and melancholy tale of Frances Price, played by Michelle Pfeiffer, a formerly wealthy NYC socialite who flees to Paris with her son after finding herself broke.

You know the story. With her lavish lifestyle—afforded to her by her deceased husband’s estate—having run dry, Frances impulsively decides the time has come to jump ship. Both she and her until recently estranged son Malcolm, played by Lucas Hedges, must move to Paris at once in order to escape the inevitable societal scrutiny she knows to be coming.

The heavy contrast between these two characters makes them an interesting duo

When it comes to leading ladies, Pfeiffer is as enigmatic as they come and here she distills this presence into Frances Price. On the one hand she is a fierce and relentlessly extravagant force to be reckoned with. On the other she has an ever-present self-described sense of grandeur and is shown to carry and invoke in others a sense of profound unhappiness; she consistently expresses a determination to end her own life in a grand spectacle.

Malcolm, who can most flatteringly be described as awkward and rather indifferent to most things, unceremoniously ends his engagement the moment Frances accepts a friend's offer to stay in an unused apartment in Paris. Though he seems more than willing to acquiesce to his self-possessed mother’s every whim, the two do not appear to be especially close. As we later learn, this is because they did not meet until Malcolm was 12 years old.

As they abruptly embark on their new life, the pair encounters an eclectic assortment of new faces. Most notable among them is Madame Reynard. Her introduction to the film brings with it an endearingly warm and comedic element that was sorely missing. Played by Valerie Mahaffey, she soon becomes a permanent installation in the duo’s apartment as Frances and Malcolm reconcile with the unpleasant memory of their deceased husband and father Frank.

The film is based on the novel of the same name by Patrick DeWitt, who also authored the screenplay. While the overall story is interesting, and at times downright hilarious, many plotlines feel contrived and the dynamic between major and minor characters often comes off as forced.

Perhaps most contrived, the film’s sudden shift towards the realm of the supernatural, facilitated by the apparent ghost of Frank residing in a black cat of all creatures, feels jarring and seems out of place in a film otherwise firmly grounded in reality.

Despite some foundational issues in the film, the miscellaneous cast of oddballs that inexplicably begin to take up residence in the apartment one-by-one are charming in their own right. Aside from not feeling fully fleshed out, these characters often serve as much-needed comedic relief to counteract the films morose undertones and slightly disjointed feel.

Overall, “French Exit” takes on a certain timeless tone that is communicated through the aesthetically appealing establishing shots, excellent costuming choices (most notably Pfeiffer’s stunning wardrobe), and pithy dialogue.

While the plot tries to run in several admittedly interesting directions simultaneously—the hiring of a private investigator to find a psychic medium; the return of Malcolm’s former fiancé Susan with her new fiancée in tow; contacting the spirit realm to speak to a cat; the meeting of an exceedingly odd cast of new friends—there simply isn’t enough room in the apartment or film for these incongruous plot threads to manifest into something more cohesive.

Michelle Pfeiffer’s performance is undoubtedly the most memorable and compelling element of the film. She settles easily into the devastatingly glamorous yet detached nature of Frances Price, delivering clever and witty lines with perfect sincerity. Her “at ease” persona works well to ground an otherwise scattered plot.

While there are numerous other thoroughly enjoyable isolated moments throughout the film, as a whole I found it difficult to remain actively engaged. This effect was largely mitigated however by Pfeiffer’s ability to present her complex character as both lively and emotionally vulnerable, which becomes the driving force of the otherwise disjointed plot.

Nevertheless, more often than not the film manages to be fun and thought provoking, encouraging members of the audience to consider how they might respond were their lives to fall apart around them without offering any discernible path forward.