The Austin Chronicle

https://www.austinchronicle.com/events/film/1994-01-07/the-summer-house/

The Summer House

Directed by Waris Hussein. Starring Jeanne Moreau, Joan Plowright, Julie Waters, Lena Heady, David Threlfall.

REVIEWED By Marjorie Baumgarten, Fri., Jan. 7, 1994

Jeanne Moreau. Jeanne Moreau. Jeanne Moreau. She is the soul of this movie and its raison d'être. So perfect in the role is she that it's impossible to imagine anyone else playing the part of Lili, the half-English, half-Egyptian visitor who memorably perks up two suburban London households in 1959. She arrives as a houseguest of proper matron Monica (Waters) and her daughter Margaret (Heady) on the eve of Margaret's upcoming nuptials. Margaret is literally marrying the boy next door, Syl (Threlfall), a boorish twit who lives with his widowed mother Mrs. Monro (Plowright). Margaret obediently consents to this marriage because she erroneously believes that she would be marrying a man truly beloved by everyone apart from herself. But even Syl's mother can see what a prig her son is and how Margaret bears her son no love. Lili assumes as her mission the break-up of this marriage but undertakes it in such a way that no one is the wiser. A blunt-spoken and colorful character yet always “ladylike,” Lili stirs this little group and brings some needed joie de vivre to their staid routines. That is, at least until the climactic finale which occurs in the summer house of the title. There we get to witness a more venomous side of Lili, a trait that has only been hinted at previously. Short on narrative developments, it is the performances that make this movie. Though Moreau absolutely steals the show, these other actors do an admirable job of holding their own with la femme eternelle. Threlfall is quite hilarious as the twit next door, Waters (Educating Rita) is practically unrecognizable as the transparently bourgeois mother of the bride-to-be, and Plowright (Enchanted April) delivers a savvy performance as the twit's dowdy mother. With Plowright underplaying to Moreau's grandiloquent overplaying, they form a delightful twosome who complement each other beautifully in the mesh. Altogether, The Summer House has only these bare narrative rudiments which function to move the action forward, but only in small increments. The durable aspects of The Summer House are the performances which are a joy in themselves to watch and be swept up in. Opportunities these days to see La Moreau walk the walk and go through her paces are all too rare and, therefore, should be greeted eagerly.

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