Michelle Pfeiffer, as Lea, is uncommonly beautiful, glittering like a diamond and equally hard. As an actress, she’s sometimes satisfactory, mostly inadequate, as she shows (but never too much, in terms of skin) in "Cheri." On the other hand, Kathy Bates, as Charlotte, may be plus-sized and voluptuous, but she’s a splendid actress, and her work is far and away the best part of the movie, which opened here yesterday.
The title character, Cheri, is a beautiful young man, played by Rupert Friend, and he’s the son of Charlotte. She and Lea are classic Parisian courtesans of the early 20th century, well-dressed, well-paid and loved richly if not wisely or well. Selling sex, yes, but also somewhat more in terms of relationships with wealthy men.
The original story, by Colette, is one of her brittle, rather coy, slightly satirical looks at this part of French society. Christopher Hampton wrote the screenplay and Stephen Frears directed; it’s the same team that collaborated on "Les Liaisons Dangereuse" and other productions for stage and screen.
But "Cheri" is lacking, and the fault lies with Pfeiffer and Friend. Both perform as if they are working in front of a mirror, admiring themselves as they speak or move, not involved with another person, even in the supposed throes of passion, when Pfeiffer always is delicately covered, to the point where it’s hard to think that’s she’s actually making love with another person. That’s part of the Colette satire, of course, but it limits more earthy enjoyment.
Bates is, as usual, larger than life, Rabelaisian in her love of gossip.
The original story is very slight, and while the arrival of Felicity Jones, as Emee, adds a dash of drama, it isn’t nearly enough to bring the film to any sort of life.
At the Plaza Frontenac
-Joe