Michelle Pfeiffer plays an eccentric and rather lost socialite whose money has run out, so she sells everything she has and moves, with her withdrawn son to Paris, ostensibly to die before her money, which she continues to spend apace, runs out.

There is a lot going on in this quirky, surreal dark comedy / drama - including an underlying mystery regarding the death of Pfeiffer's husband and his spirit's possible occupation of their cat and her son's on / off relationship with Imogen Poots. At the centre of all this and in large part the main reason for watching this is Pfeiffer giving a superb performance as the saddened but brutally effervescent Frances. There do seems to be things missing here and not all the supporting characters have sufficient heft but overall this is great pleasure with some deft comedy certainly some weird stuff and in the end great sweetness.

"Do you ever feel that you've had adulthood thrust upon you at too young an age? And that... you're still essentially a child... mimicking the behaviors of the grown-ups all around you so they won't uncover the meager contents of your heart?"

A few minutes in, I thought this is going to be one of these movies that adopt some sort of a false pretense in order to satirize the rich and upper class. Well, as I finished the movie I still think it is. But the story's attempts to dodge clichés surrounding this type of films had me constantly not only striving to classify it, but also quite baffled to know what's the point of it in the first place. Suffice it to say, it meanders a lot, especially regarding its tone which I'm not sure either the first act or Pfeiffer's magnetic performance as the delightfully sardonic Frances Price were enough to set it properly. As I said, it's meandering. And the whimsy of it being turned up to eleven in spasmodic bursts - while perfectly suits the oddball characters and the Anderson-esque style the movie has about it - feels a bit incongruous with the tender and emotive core of the story that I could catch glimpses of as the story progresses and its caustic layer being peeled off sporadically. With some touches that border on surrealism and a beguilingly sinster flair, I believe the movie become very close to going completely off the rails in its latter half to the point of stretching its believability a little too far. But everything was done efficiently and with great panache so much so I couldn't help reconciling myself with whatever this film is trying to achieve and I think I was well rewarded. By the end, my concerns were slapped across the face for everything seemed to make perfect sense despite being admittedly all over the place, and I finally could figure out what it is about - hopefully. Without getting into details to avoid spoiling anything, I think French Exit is a character study of a woman, Frances Price, who tries to break away from the phony life she leads. She's fundamentally a good and "real" person, but she's confined to the stereotypes of her aristocratic social strata. She takes a huge step towards fulfilling her purpose, only to find that the consequences of such action come arbitrarily and at a time she's neither financially, mentally nor emotionally prepared for, the thing that resulted in her having a midlife crisis of sorts. Lucas Hedges does an excellent job at complementing this with his understated performance as Frances's son, Malcolm. But Pfeiffer really knocked it out of the park here! French Exit is a bizarre satirical dramedy that I may have enjoyed a little too much. It boasts some deadpan humour that I couldn't resist. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but it's definitely worth checking out.

"That is why, hers is both a fascinating and frustrating role to watch for almost 2 hours, Patrick DeWitt's script (it is based on his own novel) gets swamped in that mythified notion of one's unknowability, his characters (apart from Frances) have no roots, they seem to be merely floating puppets, the detachment from reality should have been the forte of FRENCH EXIT, but the story's black humor has no zinger, even the surreal parts of the séances and psychophony (in Tracy Letts' rather animated voice, and it is not from the medium) are inert, like workaday altercations, they are distractingly mundane."

read my full review on my blog: Cinema Omnivore, thanks.