Quartet - Sing it again, Sam

Because I donate to The Actors’ Fund, I am aware that they sponsor retirement homes for older actors with limited means, one of which is in Englewood, NJ.  I’ve frequently thought it would be a lovely idea to end my days amongst people that totally understood me and my career, to sit around sharing war stories – battles lost and won, who we knew and those we wished we could have worked with.  Which is why the storyline of the film Quartet rang especially true to me.

Quartet is the story of an English retirement home, Beechem House, just for retired classical musicians. It stars Maggie Smith (who I adore and doesn’t actually sing in the film) as a new member to the home, a diva in the original good sense of the word, who has stopped singing.  She was once married to one of the other inhabitants, played by Reginald Paget, and he is NOT pleased that she is invading his territory, bringing with her painful memories.  They, along with two other characters (played by Pauline Collins at her ditzy best, and the ever wondrous Billy Connelly) had sung in a renowned version of Rigoletto together.  And it is performing the quartet from this opera which becomes a focal point for the film.

Every year, the residents of the home perform a concert that mixes orchestral and vocal music written by Verdi for his birthday, but more importantly, to raise the money needed to keep the place running.  In the particular year of the film, their star attraction has backed out, leaving them concerned that they will not attract the audience willing to donate the necessary funds.  Cue Maggie Smith, which causes two of the 3 quartet members to do what they can to convince her to start singing and do this onstage with them to bring in the necessary crowd.  Even though he still loves her, her ex-husband is at first not willing to be in the same room with her, regardless of the pleas from those he lives with. Of course, in order for the film to end (spoiler alert) happily, circumstances occur and conversations are both heard and overheard to bring them around to each other again, and her to choose to share her voice once more.

There is much to love about this movie, and although it is not really written for young people, it is not only for the elderly.  It is a celebration of life, an entreaty to continue to live each day to the fullest and enjoy the gifts we are given as long as we are physically able (there was an elderly woman playing the piano, who even if she was faking, was amazing for her age). Many of the musicians were really musicians, and this added another layer of realism to their acting and love of having music everywhere they went in the house. At the opposite end of that line was Smith’s character, who got crabbier and crabbier in the place, as she as she had given up music so that people would remember her for what she was, not who she had become.

I admit that Billy Connolly’s character was my favorite, as he played someone who had some issues with his brain that caused him to be wildly inappropriate in his language.  His libidinous comments might have embarrassed me in public, but on the screen they were hysterical.  I think he hit on every female he came across, regardless of age, in a variety of ways. And his rather direct suggestion to Smith’s character that got her to finally give in was, “just f%@ing do it!” Maggie Smith was brilliant as always.  From her initial resigned entrance, to her angered exclamation, “this is a nuthouse,” on to her joyfully walking onto a stage once again, her acting is perfection.  And while she is a star dealing with aging and its effects on a great talent, we all go through the pain of not being exactly as we were when we were at our prime at some point.

It was Dustin Hoffman’s directorial debut, and was more impressive for being that.  I especially respected his choice not to have any of the characters die – I was waiting for it to happen for most of the movie, as it is an easy emotional choice.  He was particularly excellent at showcasing the joy the fellow performers felt in still being able to share their gifts with each other and occasionally the outside world.  I loved Paget’s character choices (and Hoffman’s directorial ones) when he was teaching teens how to enjoy opera using hip hop and rap.

As part of her introduction at the Verdi celebration, the physician in charge of Beechem House states of those who live there, “they inspire us because their love of life…is infectious, and gives us all faith in the future.”  And they do. I know I hope to live long, still singing and enjoying the company of other performers, as so many in this imaginary house do! And as Bette Davis once said, “old age ain’t for sissies.” But it can also be a joyous chapter in our lives.