A Late Quartet

Most reviews of "A Late Quartet" are nonsense. Don't see this movie if you expect to better your understanding of Beethoven's last compositions. Don't see this film if you expect to listen to his Opus 131 uncut. Don't see this film if you have a hyper-sensitivity to melodrama. This film isn't in the least a melodrama even if, thank goodness, it is far less heady than anything Henry James or Jane Austen might have created.

What "A Late Quartet" is is a simple psychodrama that happens to deal with the lives of performing artists in New York, New York, a particularly artistic milieu. Are artists sometimes conflicted? Do they experience loss? Do they love? Do they debate whether instinct or methodical behavior yields the better result? Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

The story line is interesting enough, the acting is first-rate, the direction is tops from the top dog to the second assistant viola instructor of Ms. Keener. We liked the film, which was apparently a big-budget production. That's a shame, because, judging from the box office numbers, it may never cover its costs.

Go see it.

As the film opens and the four members of the renown, Manhattan based Fugue string-quartet grace their humble audience and stage, they slowly bow…and the film cuts.

Like so many movies before it, the film starts where it ends.

Like a cheap, brand new suit or a stuffy high-brow gala, Yaron Zilberman's A Late Quartet is a fine piece of high cultured entertainment with low-brow issues.

Graced with fine classical music and an impeccable musical score from Angelo Badalamenti, the music is just the setting for a simple story of passion and love. But the twist in the narrative as the film unfolds, is not the love and passion the quartet shares for one another, but rather a sizzling passion for the sounds and beauty of classical compositions.

Like any hobby or refined passion, A Late Quartet is a showcase of how music affects the lives of people who allow them to be engulfed by the mesmerizing strings of some of the greatest musicians to have ever lived.

Once together, the Fugue is a metaphor of beauty, wisdom and harmony; consisting of a group of people who are diverse both physically and emotionally. The members of the quartet include violin I and perfectionist Daniel Lerner (Mark Ivanir); violin II and the emotional impulse of the quartet Robert Gelbart (Philip Seymour Hoffman); viola and the sensible lone female composer Juliette Gelbart (Catherine Keener); and finally the glue and backbone of the quartet, aging cellist veteran and mentor to all three players Peter Mitchell (Christopher Walken).

Upon learning of his weary health and the early signs of Parkinson's disease, Peter must share with the quartet his illness and impending future of the group. His influence goes far beyond what he brings to the stage, since he and his recently deceased wife Miriam (Anne Sofie von Otter) raised Juliette from an early age as an orphan. And his teachings of classic music to Daniel as a student makes his departing the quartet emotionally straining and difficult for everyone.

As the option to find another cellist arises and the chance for the group to evolve as they approach their quarter-century anniversary, Robert sees this as an ideal opportunity to play switching roles as violin I and II—with hesitation from the obsessed Daniel and his nonsupporting wife Juliette.

What transcends from the melodrama between these people and the struggles they face as a group of human beings, putting aside their passion for classical music, is a portrait of love, lost and acceptance. The film plays as a modern-day fable to unleash one's passion and wonderful moments of fulfilling your dreams with realities.

A Late Quartet may be a heightened sense of melodramatic wonder, thanks to the highly emotional and super sensitive Sting Quartet No. 14 by Beethoven in the film's finale or the wonderful sounds of the Brentano String Quartet playing on behalf of the Fugue. Nonetheless, a few things are certain.

A Late Quartet is a masterclass in acting for all four masterful and meticulous actors.

There is a scene of Christopher Walken, playing the older declining cellist Peter Mitchell recounting an audition with the great Pablo Casals, where he said his rendition of a known classic was "just awful, nothing but mistakes" but the Maestro praised it with evident sincerity. Mitchell had remained disturbed by the seeming lack of candor, until many decades later when both were at the top of the pack over a glass of wine he asked him about it. His response is a lesson for reviewing this film and beyond.

"I heard those mistakes, but I also felt your passion, your conveying it in strong sensitive lyrical phrases that others rarely achieve. Those critics who keep track of every wrong note are missing out on what music and life has to offer." And so I will leave the defects of this film to others, as there are many scenes that detracted from what I experienced, a rare sensitive exploration of life using a string quartet as exemplar and metaphor. I only went to the art house to see this expecting it to be, based on the reviews, a formulaic movie that happened to be shot in my old neighborhood of Lincoln Center area of New York. My wife is an amateur violinist who always came home from her week long chamber music camp with the glow of playing in groups such as this film depicted.

After seeing this film I understand why. These depicted consummate musicians, who rather than the solo careers available to them, chose to form a single instrument, one that required that most human ability of merging of individuality into something that can only be achieved by--the word for it is "symbiosis," different organisms uniting in a common goal. While the conflicts of ego, sexual attraction, fame and glory may seem hackneyed, it is because this is the universal challenge of sustaining any such group-from a marriage to a nation.

In my old neighborhood, a young world-famous violinist bought into our coop building. We lost touch when I moved to California a decade ago, and wondered why with unlimited solo bookings he had played with a chamber group. This film explained why, not only from a musicological level, but from the human desire to be part of something beyond our individuality. That is the element of this film that transcends music.

You see, I also play in quartets, but they are doubles tennis with two people on each side ostensibly playing against each other. Yet, for it to work, for it to give the same type of pleasure that my wife and soloist friend got out of chamber music, all four have to work together enjoying the virtuoso shots of any of the foursome, no matter which side of the net they are on. And like in this magnificent film, the ego that makes for the excitement, when taken too far, to the point of self serving line calls leading to animosity, can destroy the entire experience.

And as a string quartet playing off of each other in an "allegro" passage; in tennis, a flurry of volleys followed with a running get that is returned for a winner can bring joy to the performers and the audience. This perfect miniature of a film, like all great productions, is only achieved by such seamless excellence that no one can tell where one individual's contribution ends and the other's begins.

It is about the most sublime and entertaining lousy flick I've ever seen.

I watched this movie out of appreciation for Hoffman. So glad I did. Independent films such as this one have really begin to open my eyes to another world of cinema.

It's always great to see new faces and uncover some true talent, like Mark Ivanir. I only saw him in the Good Shepherd, but this performance will remain with me for some time. He seemed very attached to his role.

I recommend this movie to anyone who has a growing interest in classical music. It definitely furthered my interest. Listening to Chopin as I write this. :)

Be warned, the plot seemed slow and at is some times difficult to relate to. However, still a very good movie to open your mind to.

First things first: this is emphatically not Dustin Hoffman's weak, flaccid 'comedy', Quartet. Turn around, walk quietly away and we'll pretend you weren't here.

A Late Quartet is a moving, thought-provoking, entertaining and thoroughly rewarding journey through the final act of four friends' musical life together. From the opening scene to the final chords, the music sweeps us along the emotional roller-coaster of four friends with more complicated relationships than the members of ABBA and stirs in us feelings of sadness, contempt and judgment: How could s/he? What were they thinking?

In their 25th year together, the world-renowned Fugue String Quartet endeavour to mark the momentous occasion with a remarkable tour, but rehearsals falter when their cellist, Peter (Christopher Walken), announces he is in the early stages of Parkinson's Disease, placing the quartet's tour and future in jeopardy. The concern each of the other members experiences acts as a catalyst for their own clumsy actions, and what has been a solid unit for a quarter of a century fractures with maximum pain, frustration and anger as resentments rise.

A Late Quartet is truly an ensemble piece and, no, I'm not trying to be funny. To elevate any of the four above the others would be to miss the point of the film entirely. Just as the characters have their position in the quartet (and this becomes a plot strand), so, too, do the actors have their place; but their roles are different, not greater or lesser than another's.

Walken might initially be deemed the principal as the recently bereaved elder statesman of the group, and Peter's desperation as both his body and his life's work stop functioning is heartbreaking. He is impotent in both matters and battles to find the mature way to seize control of his own destiny again. He might have won an Oscar for The Deer Hunter, but this is his most powerful, unselfconscious performance in many years.

Robert (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Juliette (Catherine Keener) are husband and wife, second violin and viola respectively. Theirs is a marriage of mutual respect but as Robert deals with the quartet's crisis in his own naive, foolish manner and Juliette lashes out in response, the existence of genuine love in their companionship is brought into question as each defends themselves with verbal attacks, one bludgeoning, the other stabbing. There is nothing 'Hollywood' about their performances and the rawness both characters expose in each other is palpable to any viewer living in the real world. A word once spoken cannot return and an action performed cannot be undone.

In terms of star power in the cast, Mark Ivanir is way down the list, his career largely highlighted by video game acting, but as first violinist, Daniel, he is a very powerful force both in the quartet and the film. His intensity is a large part of what keeps the quartet together but it easily presents itself as a blunt weapon of stubbornness and arrogance. But, damaging though his stubbornness might be, for much of A Late Quartet it seems to be the one constant that keeps them together. Alas, not even Daniel is immune to the crisis and he, too, falters foolishly, convincingly and cringingly.

The weak link in A Late Affair, and the principal reason it falls just below perfection, is Imogen Poots (28 Weeks Later, Fright Night) as Robert and Juliette's daughter, Alexandra. A violinist under the tutelage of Daniel, she is precocious, spoilt, selfish and a brat in a young woman's body. That Alexandra is unpleasant is not the issue; she adds another dimension to the film and background to each member of the quartet. That Poots pouts (yes, you may smile at that one) almost unendingly is. She fails to give us a full picture. How can anyone love this creature? She is two-dimensionally awful and has slipped ever so slightly over the boundaries of subtlety and into pastiche. It's a small criticism, but it's a bothersome issue.

Writer/director Yaron Zilberman (his only other credit to date is multi-award-winning documentary Watermarks) has give the word a striking and beautiful feature in A Late Quartet. He has written his characters realistically and directs them with tenderness, evidently caring deeply about them (well, perhaps not Alexandra) and insisting on truth in story and performance. He has now directed as often as Dustin Hoffman but his quartet resonates with his audience and remains indelible in our minds in a way that Hoffman can only forlornly hope for his own fading musicians.

Sit quietly through the credits and beyond, even if the cinema goes dark and you are left alone. A Late Quartet is not a film to rush away from and is an experience to embrace, silently. Take note, trio of chatterboxes at The Watershed!

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