"Bollocks!"

Recently I read an interview with Russell Crowe discussing A Good Year and his experience filming it. Unfortunately I have been unable to track the interview down, but in it Crowe extolled the virtues of Provence, of wine and of Ridley Scott, basically concluding that the three combined made the filming of A Good Year a fun, if not heavenly, experience for all. Now I hate to sound like a party pooper, but this is rarely a good sign. Ocean's Twelve is the ultimate proof among film fans that a group of people having a good laugh does not a good final product make. Such, it seems, is the case with A Good Year.

Then again, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. The faults of A Good Year were present long before filming began. The script is predictable, hackneyed and messy, asking its audience to care about a multitude of plot threads and characters none of which have been given enough screen time to become fully formed. Russell Crowe is hopelessly miscast, pratting about like a pale imitation of Hugh Grant (yes, I said it), constantly exclaiming 'bollocks' and generally displaying a tragic lake of comic skill or timing. Crowe pulls off the opening scenes (which focus on the asshole side of the character) decently, but as soon as his Max Skinner is relocated to the admittedly beautiful plains of Provence, things get boring quickly.

There's simply nothing interesting about Max's crisis of concience, especially not in a feel-good movie like this where the comfy conclusion is a given from the start. Nor are we invested in his relationship with Fanny Chenal, a beautiful but vapid love interest, or his uncertainities about Uncle Henry's possible illegitimate daughter Christie Roberts. And as for the colourful gardener Francis Duflot, he's little but a beach ball of concience which Skinner has to occassionally shove out of his face. And despite this ample ensemble of characters, Marc Klein's script never seems really interested in anyone but Skinner. At least each one gets to make a little speech about how Skinner is an asshole for thinking of selling the vineyard; as if we didn't know that from the start. Only two backgrounders stand out, a charming Archie Panjabi as Skinner's assistant and a hilarious Tom Hollander as his 'best friend'.

Ultimately Skinner chooses to do the right thing and give up his selfish live because he is, conviniently, in love. Not with Uncle Henry (a hammy Albert Finney, who could do this stuff in his sleep) but with Fanny. When confronted about his selfish, arrogant lifestyle, Skinner appears unmoved. When the beach ball gardener whines about losing the job he's had for all his life, Skinner is dismissive. But we're asked to believe that this woman he just met is the breaking point for the man. Except their relationship doesn't come off as something lasting - rather an insubstantial fling.

Crowe could have been the saving grace of this very flawed film. But while he's not that bad, none of Crowe's many talents are suited to a feel-good comedy. He and Scott feel like they're weakly impersonating the genre; Crowe in his clumsy pratfalls, Scott in his attempts at a breezy, 'whatever' tone. Both feel heavy-handed and very forced.

The only engaging parts of the film, for me, were the flashbacks to Max's childhood adventures with Uncle Henry. Even though Finney clearly thinks it's enough that he showed up, Freddie Highmore (as a bespectacled young Max) can increasingly do no wrong, and their scenes make for an interesting parallel to the older Max. These flashbacks are few and far between, but at least they provide occasional relief from Crowe's painful shenanigans. He and Scott may have had themselves a lot of fun making A Good Year, but actually making it through the film is close to painful.