Quartet

This evening I went to see a new film, which is on general release, called "Quartet".   More often than not I go and see foreign films, or else old films like the Ealing comedies, but this looked as if it might have something in common with both genres.

Rather than go to one of the big cinemas, I went to see if at the Coronet in Notting Hill Gate, especially as they only charge £3.50 all day on Tuesdays.   The Coronet is  a small independent cinema, with just two screens, but it is very comfortable, and at least one screen also has a gallery, although I've always sat in the stalls, preferably right in the centre facing the screen, and no more than about six rows back.    Actually, the auditorium at the Coronet is so small that even the back row isn't far away.

The film itself lived up to expectations.    Set in a home for retired musicians called Beecham House, which is rather luxurious and surrounded by beautiful countryside, it follows them as, under the leadership of Tom Courtney and Billy Connolly, they organise a concert to raise funds to keep the home open.   All is going reasonably well, until the arrival of Maggie Smith, former wife of Tom Courtney, who marriage many years before had lasted all of nine hours.    Neither is pleased to see the other, and Maggie Smith is determined never to sing again, despite all their efforts to make the concert a sell-out by joining  them in singing their famous Quarter from Rigoletto.    All ends well, however, both in respect of the concert, and also Maggie Smith and Tom Courtney's relationship.

The music throughout was delightful with, as one would expect from a home for retired musicians and singers, plenty of songs and choruses; the film ends with a picture of the house from which  the rousing sound of the concert continue to flow.

But it was not only the music which made the film so enjoyable; the humour and the brilliant acting also played their part.    Films about the very elderly can be sad or boring, but the people in this home were obviously full of life, even if, as in the case of Pauline Collins, they were becoming slightly senile.