Frankie Review

Frankie
Sinta, Portugal. Renowned French film star Francoise, aka Frankie, (Isabelle Huppert) invites her family to her beautiful mountainside sanctuary. With her relations all dealing with their own emotional problems, Frankie has something to tell them.

by Ian Freer |
Published on
Release Date:

28 May 2021

Original Title:

Frankie

With Love Is Strange and Little Men, Ira Sachs established himself as a master of small-scale treats, exquisitely observed character driven dramas, set in New York, syringed with humour and humanity. Setting his latest, Frankie, in the sunnier climes of the Portuguese mountain landscapes of Sinta, something has been lost in the transatlantic crossing. It’s not that Frankie is bad — it boasts strength in acting depth — it just feels lacklustre, especially in light of his previous work.

Frankie is a strangely muted, overly talk-y affair.

The action — or, more correctly, inaction — takes place over the course of one day. Famed French actress Francoise, aka Frankie (Isabelle Huppert), has summoned the complex strands of her family to join her and second husband Jimmy (Brendan Gleeson) in their palatial hillside retreat. The clan includes her son Paul (Jérémie Renier) by first husband Michel (Pascal Greggory), Jimmy’s daughter Sylvia (Vinette Robinson) who is undergoing relationship difficulties with her husband Ian (Ariyon Bakare), and their daughter Maya (Sennia Nenua) who goes off on her own and meets some locals at the beach. The reason for the family get-together is painfully obvious from the get-go ("This horrible thing makes you lose faith in love itself") but takes its sweet time to emerge.

Circling the family is Frankie’s make-up artist pal Ilene (Marisa Tomei), who Frankie has invited as a potential match for her son but the plan goes awry when she arrives with her current squeeze Gary (Greg Kinnear), who bizarrely is a second unit cinematographer on a Star Wars film shooting in Spain. There are some nice moments — Frankie being drawn into the 88th birthday party of a fan — and an audacious final shot. But you’d expect, with three generations clashing, sparks would fly – yet somehow, Frankie is a strangely muted, overly talk-y affair, characters mulling over romantic and relationship mini-dramas like an Eric Rohmer movie on sedatives. Huppert can do this stuff in her sleep, there are good supporting turns (especially Tomei and Gleeson) and the locale is beautiful, yet Frankie emerges a slow, thin and surprisingly bland affair.

It has its pleasures but after the nuance and emotional hits of Love Is Strange and Little Men, Frankie is a disappointment. Not even la Reine, Isabelle Huppert, can elevate this one.
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