Book Club: The Next Chapter

Book Club was one the surprise hits of the summer of 2018 and was a film I enjoyed a lot more than I expected. It was no classic, but it was a breezy way to spend a few summer hours. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly if you know Hollywood, a sequel was commissioned. The Next Chapter really doesn't have much of the charm of the original and doesn't make a compelling case for existing.

There are a few laughs here and there, but not enough to overcome the mountains of painful double entendres and speeches about friendship. Everyone seems to just be going through the motions and ready to collect their paychecks. But hey, at least there is some stunning Italian scenery to enjoy.

I waited for this movie with great anticipation. The actors have done fine work in the past, and the previous Book Club movie was nicely done.

But this Book Club: The Next Chapter is so flimsy it is embarrassing, mainly to women in general. As if women live in a world of teenage dreams and have no way of solidifying their identity without resorting to superficial concerns and external validations.

For instance, the constant emphasis on clothes, or on how men love or do not love the women, or on the ideal, magical trip that is supposed to liberate you, or on what the fates want for you, or on what signs you are being given about your "destiny" - all this is just so tiresome and empty.

The characters never seemed to be concerned about anything except their own private selves.

And the ending was preposterous. It made the women seem as if they were completely inconsistent.

Diane (Diane Keaton), Vivian (Jane Fonda), Sharon (Candice Bergen), and Carol (Mary Steenburgen) are the best of friends. They are meeting in person for the first time since the isolation of the pandemic. They decide to go to Italy.

I'm fine with the first movie. It's fine. Don't ask me to watch a sequel. Yet here we are. I don't begrudge anyone from doing a honest day's work, but this one is a classic Adam Sandler move. Sandler often gets a bunch of his friends and makes a movie at some exotic resort location. There's a lot of that here. The writing is boring. I stopped caring about these characters. Maybe they'll stop making these although I can see a way to make the next one interesting.

When an AI script generator is fed "cliches about older women" "Italy tourism brochures" and "text from wine-themed decor items," this is what's spit out. I left 2/3 of the way through so I'm not technically qualified to give a full review... but I had to force myself to stay that long. Jane Fonda was particularly assaulted by the script, but none were spared. Even Italy should fire their agent over this one~ no hackneyed tourist trap was overlooked, no cliche left out. I need 118 more characters for this review to post but the movie was so dull that further criticism is fruit hanging too low. Just. Don't. Do It.

This appears to be a good excuse for four actors, who seem to get on quite well together, to get someone to fund an all expenses paid trip to Italy to make a movie underpinned by the thinnest of plots. That plot sees the group emerging from lockdown when they finally manage to meet for their routine bookclub. It's at this get-together that "Vivian" (Jane Fonda) announces that she - a lifelong opponent of the institution - is to marry "Arthur" (Don Johnson). "Carol" (Mary Steenbergen) comes up with the idea of a hen trip to Italy and after a bit of scepticism from "Diane" (Diane Keanton) and the timely death of the cat of judge "Sharon" (Candice Bergen) they embark on their trip of a lifetime. What now ensues is a rather predictable and lightweight comedy drama that starts off entertainingly enough but runs out of steam quickly and permanently. The last twenty minutes take us into cheesy territory that really did have me looking around the cinema at the ceiling thinking - "oh, just get on with it". There are a few fun contributions from Giancarlo Giannini as the rather dishevelled police chief and a few cameos from Andy Garcia, but for the most part this is just four folks having a jolly time whilst those of us sitting down remember (or discover) just how beautiful Venice is. It's all instantly forgettable stuff, this, but Bergen has her tongue firmly in her cheek and Jane Fonda just seems to look more android the more films she precariously totters through nowadays.