French Kiss Movie Trailer. Given all the talent and scenery to be found in “French Kiss,” Lawrence Kasdan’s new film starring Paris, Provence, the Riviera, Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline, the lack of fizz is just plain inexplicable. Yet this is a romantic comedy with barely a laugh or a spark, and with a pace that makes it feel longer than Mr. Kasdan’s previous work, “Wyatt Earp.”
Only Mr. Kline, whose way with heavily accented characters is pure witchcraft, finds the least bit of comic possibility in this material. Cast as a furtive French jewel thief who takes an eyebrow-arching interest in Ms. Ryan, he offers a fine compendium of Gallic movie-star mannerisms, punctuated by the occasional disgusted shrug. In a black leather jacket and greasy hair, Mr. Kline blusters like Depardieu. And he listens to women soulfully a la Leaud. Understandably, he is less nimble in scenes that have him confessing his dream of returning to the family vineyard and getting serious about wine.
Ms. Ryan is in full flutter as Kate, a homebody venturing from Toronto to France in pursuit of her errant fiance (played by an uneasy-looking Timothy Hutton, who makes one glum playboy). As the audience discovers that Ms. Ryan (“one of the most skilled and beloved practitioners of the fine art of romantic comedy,” according to the production notes) can even fly cute, she meets Mr. Kline’s Luc aboard her plane. This meeting is supposed to be magical, but it seems as if the trans-Atlantic flight is taking place in real time. Scenes in “French Kiss” often drag on until they run out of gas.
The screwballish premise has Luc hiding a stolen necklace in Kate’s baggage, which forces the two to spend time together in showy Parisian settings, then to race off to the south of France. (For bonus points, guess which landmark is near Kate when she declares “I know I will triumph!”) But for every glamorous diversion of this sort, there is sure to be a more pedestrian moment. This film includes a long scene set at the Canadian embassy, a reference to lactose intolerance and a whole string of impotence jokes. It obliges Ms. Ryan to hide behind a potted plant in a restaurant, then fall over backward and upset the dessert cart.
Wearing a look of studied freshness and an untended-looking coiffure that may have taken hours to tousle, Ms. Ryan bubbles over with tics meant to melt your heart. But beyond the occasional “Donnez-moi un break,” the film doesn’t provide her much in the way of witticisms. And her skittery mannerisms, like her adorable ways of registering shock and chagrin, have become familiar enough to lose their zip.
Actually, Ms. Ryan gave a much better and more composed performance in the overlooked “I.Q.” last winter, just as Mr. Kasdan’s direction of “Wyatt Earp” was better than that film’s fiscal failure implied. “French Kiss” may have a more putatively foolproof formula, but everyone here has done vastly more interesting work. That’s definitely true for Jean Reno and Francois Cluzet, good French actors who are cast in fluffy roles (as a cop and a crook), and who can’t even make themselves as comfortably familiar as the story’s snobbish French concierge (Laurent Spielvogel). Too much gets lost in translation.
French Kiss (1995)
Directed by: Lawrence Kasdan
Starring: Meg Ryan, Kevin Kline, Timothy Hutton, Jean Reno, François Cluzet, Susan Anbeh, Renée Humphrey, Michael Riley, Laurent Spielvogel, Élisabeth Commelin
Screenplay by: Adam Brooks
Production Design by: Jon Hutman
Cinematography by: Owen Roizman
Film Editing by: Joe Hutshing
Costume Design by: Joanna Johnston
Set Decoration by: Kara Lindstrom
Art Direction by: Gérard Viard, Jean-Claude Frequin
Music by: James Newton Howard
MPAA Rating; PG-13 for some sexuality, language and drug references.
Distributed by: 20th Century Fox
Release Date: May 5, 1005
Hits: 652
