With all due respect, I really, really don’t want to watch a film about George Clooney withering away from the plague condition known in certain circles as “Al Z. Heimer”.
Ditto Annette Bening, playing Clooney’s wife who arranges, at Clooney’s earnest request, to send him off to the next world.
First, a Clooney-type guy would never be married to a woman who’s more or less his age. (He and Bening are both in their mid 60s.) A Clooney-type guy would have tied the knot with…I don’t know, some kind of slender, 20-years-younger, dark-haired, uptown fox.
Second, I might accept or find some way to tolerate Clooney arranging for Bening to buy the farm, but not the other way around…please! Bening has played several morose, beaten-up characters over the last couple of decades, but Clooney is too slender and vital…too much the bon vivant smoothie. He’s Jay Kelly!
Third and finally, this Paul Weitz project is obviously (dare I say nakedly ambitious?) awards bait.
I don’t want Clooney or Bening to die. I want them to…I don’t know, fall into an adventure of some kind. Drive down to Central America and then Venezuela out of boredom and maybe get involved in the drug trade for extra cash. Okay, I’ll accept an accidental death (eaten by a shark?) but no Keverkorian action.
