A Late Quartet
(USA, 105 min.)
Dir. Yaron Zilberman, Writ. Yaron Zilberman, Seth Grossman.
Starring: Philip Seymour Hoffman, Catherine Keener, Christopher
Walken, Mark Ivanir, Imogen Poots.
A Late Quartet is
not to be confused with Quartet. The
latter, which made my list of the top ten films of 2012, has much in common
with the former: chords of anger and infidelity ripple through a quartet of
friends/musicians as their life’s work culminates in a single performance. Both
films reveal the difficulties that aging brings when the inevitable hiccups of
growing old force unwanted decrescendos
on the talents of a great musician. In spite of their similarities, though, the
two Quartets could not be more
different. For one thing, A Late Quartet
is all about strings while Quartet
(no Late) is about a troupe of opera
singers. Likewise, one film is American and one film is British. Finally, and
most notably, A Late Quartet is a
modest, mature drama while Quartet is
a sprightly, crowd-pleasing comedy. If Quartet
is a fine glass of well-aged bubbly, then A
Late Quartet is like a good round of ten-year-old scotch. It’s great if
you’re in the mood to work out all its tastes and textures.
The analogy might explain why classical music sits so well with stuffy scotch drinkers. A fine piece of Beethoven might not be for all tastes these days. However, if one engages with it, gets in tune with its melodic intricacies, and lets it breathe properly, it yields quite the reward. Regardless of the grasp one has for classical music (or scotch) going in to A Late Quartet, this dramatic debut by Yaron Zilberman skillfully ensures that audiences will appreciate the nuance and dexterity with which music and films are made.
The film begins with a string quartet, called the Fugue
Quartet, sitting down before a packed audience. The musicians—played by Philip
Seymour Hoffman, Catherine Keener, Christopher Walken, and Mark Ivanir—look up
from their music stands and assess one another before they strike a chord. The
film then flashes back to the preparations that brought the quartet to its
climactic performance.
The tensions of a quarter-century of teamwork hit their
pitch when their cellist, Peter (Walken), reveals to the group that he is
experiencing early symptoms of Parkinson’s disease. The uncontrollable tremors
of Parkinson’s are perhaps the worst fate that can befall a skilled musician
who has built a life by evoking emotions through the skillful movements of his
hands. Walken gives a virtuoso performance as the ailing Peter, and he offers
some of the film’s most poignant notes in a few key monologues (which are the
actor’s trademark) and a touching silent moment (which he does even better) in
which the cellist listens to past recordings and reminisces about the times
gone by.
Peter’s Parkinson’s, however, is not what ails the Fugue
Quartet. His looming departure opens up a series of tensions and rivalries that
have lain dormant as the quartet worked together to ensure harmony. Part of
playing in a quartet requires that musicians put their own artistic flair in
check with that of the group; the inevitability of such synchronization, though,
means that one member’s craft dominates that of the group.
Such a rift erupts when Robert (Hoffman) admits that he is
tired of playing second fiddle to Daniel (Ivanir) and thinks that the two
violinists should alternative first chair. In turn, Robert’s wife, and the
quartet’s violist, Juliette (Catherine), is forced to take sides. A Late Quartet taps in to the inescapable
egoism that looms throughout the arts, and it treats artistic license as if it’s
betrayal. The film pairs such decisions with adultery, but it’s far before anyone
has sex that an infidelity plays itself out before our eyes.
Hoffman and Keener make strong partners (and rivals) in the
quartet. It’s nice to see the actors working together again after Capote. Like Walken, they give fine,
mature work by imbuing the written work with authentic emotion, much like Robert
and Juliette do when tackling Beethoven’s Opus. Ivanir, however, is somewhat
eclipsed by his three heavyweight co-stars (plus a strong performance by Imogen
Poots as Hoffman and Keener’s cold, spoiled daughter). Unlike Robert and
Juliette, Daniel is a far more calculated player. He relies on the beat and
precision of the notes to do the work for him. He’s a character written in pianissimo, unlike the other three who
range from mezzo-forte to the higher
end of the scale. Still, the four actors create a nice harmony together and
they bring a richness to the film’s artful, yet natural, script.
A Late Quartet gradually
builds to the fateful concert and re-contextualizes the quartet with the piece
they play. Peter explains how the composition, Beethoven’s Opus 131, is meant to be
played attacca, which means that the
seven movements of the piece are to be played without a break. One section of
the opus carries over into the next, and the players build their music with tangible
emotion as the notes and harmonies inevitably fall out of tune as the musicians
play with feverish continuity. As the quartet plays the film’s final number,
the music reveals to the audience how the lives of the musicians followed a
similar series of movements, which became fraught with tension as the instrumentalists
played attacca for twenty-five years.
Zilberman ends the film with a bold overture. Beethoven’s
Opus 131 frames the film in an astute musical parenthesis in which old ghosts
are battled, hearts are broken, and lives are altered. The musical notes, and
faces of the performers, have a different tenor when the film starts the music
again at the film’s end. A smart, subtle ending—a fermata of sorts—brings together a lesson in classical music with a
master class in screen acting. A Late
Quartet is music to the ears, and to the eyes of moviegoers, it is smart,
artful fare.
Rating: ★★★★ (out of ★★★★★)
A Late Quartet screened in Ottawa at The ByTowne.
It has an encore
performance at The Mayfair (Bank) beginning February 1st.
