Hey, everyone. Capone in Chicago here. I've been hearing rumblings for a little over a month that there was something not quite right about this frilly fare concerning a ruthless London investment expert (Russell Crowe) who rediscovers his softer side when he visits the French vineyard where he spent the better part of his formative years. But as I sat down to watch what I thought, at worst, would be a passably dull voyage of self-discovery, I had no concept of just how abysmally awful A Good Year would turn out to be.

The problems are apparent from the beginning. Crowe plays the shrewd Max Skinner as a charming rogue. Crowe is an awesome actor who has spent his entire career giving us memorable characters, almost without fail. But rarely has he pulled off charming, and certainly never to the level where he can carry what is essentially a male "chick flick" (a term I abhor and almost never use). A Good Year is also supposed to be amusing, bordering on a comedy. Again, Crowe isn't exactly known as the Giggle King, and there are dozens of lines in this film that clearly are supposed to induce laughter that just hang there like a dense fart in a room with no breeze.

What absolutely kills me is that this movie represents a reunion between Crowe and director Ridley Scott, the pair that knocked my socks off with Gladiator. You can be a Gladiator hater, but when I first saw it on a big-ass screen with a beefy sound system, it rattled my fillings. I don't expect this reteaming to yield similar results, but I'd at least expect them to try to make something different. A Good Year breaks no new ground. In fact, it shamelessly tramples on some disgustingly familiar territory. Anyone who saw Under the Tuscan Sun might have an idea of the tone of this film; screenwriter Marc Klein (Serendipity) makes sure of that with his adaptation of Peter Mayle's book.

The most frustrating thing about this film is that most of the elements are there. Skinner's uncle (the energetic Albert Finney) raised him at the picturesque vineyard as boy after his parents died. Young Max is played thoughtfully by Freddie Highmore (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; Finding Neverland). But when Max gets old enough, he leaves behind the serene Provençal lifestyle for life in the big city. We don't quite get the missing piece to the Max puzzle—his journey from sweet kid to sublime asshole adult—and that may be part of the problem with the movie. When Uncle Henry dies, he leaves his estate to Max, who has no interest in holding onto it. After a possibly illegal bit of dirty (and quite successful) trading on the London stock market, Max decides it's time for a holiday (if only to avoid being fired or arrested). The vineyard is in disrepair, so Max decides to clean it up a bit with help from the staff and sell it with the help of his sleazy realtor (Tom Hollander of Pirates of the Caribbean).

Naturally Max begins to grow fond of the property and the people, especially a beautiful waitress played by French actress Marion Cotillard (probably best know for her work in the Taxi film). Max also gets an unexpected visit from a young American woman (fellow Australian actor Abbie Cornish) who appears to be the illegitimate child of his uncle and may have a rightful claim to the vineyard.

The cringe factor really takes hold in this work whenever Max harkens back to how wonderful and carefree his childhood was with his uncle, who would let Max sip various wines and pretty much just have free reign and no responsibilities. Nothing is more boring on film than watching someone else have fun. I count myself a fan of most of the major players in this film, but there's no denying they are floundering here, Crowe most of all. I've grown quite fond of Abbie Cornish lately, having seen her put forth powerful performances in the Australian offerings Somersault and Candy (opposite Heath Ledger, which should come out in the United States fairly soon), but she seems completely uninspired with her California girl accent and ultra-tiny bikini.

I guess my only question to Scott and Crowe is: Why? Why this project? Why this story? Were you both looking to prove you could do something beyond extraordinary action and intense drama? I'm all for actors and directors stretching their wings and showing us their range, but not when the results fail so resoundingly. A Good Year is a failure of the highest magnitude, and if you read this and still go to see it, you have no one to blame but yourself. Enjoy.

Capone
capone@aintitcoolmail.com