In this double-review edition, I’m reviewing two new French dramedies that, although their stories are totally different, both showcase a quartet being confined under one roof and the fascinating dynamics that come from that.

Suspended Time (Hors du temps)

Most people likely remember where they were when the world went into lockdown five years ago, and we all had to shelter in place. I have to say I’m not too fond of COVID films that became ubiquitous; some are okay (7 Days), while others are just plain terrible (The Bubble). Suspended Time (Hors du temps) is the first semi-autobiographical film I’ve come across that takes place during the COVID pandemic.

The story is based on French director Olivier Assayas’s personal experiences during the lockdown in Spring 2020. The main character, film director Paul Berger (Vincent Macaigne), is his alter ego. There’s even a voiceover by Assayas himself at the start of the film, dryly explaining that Paul returns to his idyllic childhood home in the Chevreuse Valley, about an hour south of Paris. Surrounded by greenery, trees, and beautiful bluebells, the group has lunch picnics every day and enjoys wine by the fireplace in the evening. It’s really a magical place to be stuck in.

Paul shelters in place with his girlfriend Morgane (Nine d’Urso), his brother Etienne, who works as a music journalist (Micha Lescot), and Etienne’s new girlfriend Carole (Nora Hamzawi). Paul is still dealing with the legacy of his parents, as the house remains just as they left it before they passed away, filled with art, vintage furniture, and rows upon rows of books. It’s clear that the family is well-educated and cultured, and Assayas emphasizes this by name-dropping the likes of Monet, David Hockney, and French novelist Gustave Flaubert. I find it entertaining to learn about various tidbits about Assayas’s works. The most notable one is the supposedly canceled movie project where Kristen Stewart, who was great in Assayas’ Clouds of Sils Maria and Personal Shopper, was meant to portray a Portuguese nun.

Initially, the quartet seems to be getting along just fine, but this temporary arrangement brings up past hurts and old wounds, especially since Paul and Etienne have both recently gotten divorced. Their main argument typically revolves around the details of health protocols, as Paul is very strict about the pandemic rules; he even watches a how-to video every time he washes his hands, while Etienne is much more laid-back. Paul is frustrated by his brother’s carefree attitude, while Etienne is annoyed by Paul’s obsession with cleanliness and his compulsive ordering from Amazon. The delivery of the Swedish cooking pan is particularly funny, as Paul ruins it after one use and gets obsessed with trying to save it.

Macaigne really nails Paul’s neurotic character, and Lescot brings a chill rock-star energy. D’Urso and Hamzawi add such warmth whenever they appear on screen, but Morgane and Carole are mostly relegated to the background. Other than one sweet chat between them, there’s not much space for the female characters’ narratives. Calling Suspended Time self-indulgent is an understatement. It’s a very talky film, even for arthouse films, which I don’t mind as long as the dialogue isn’t too repetitive and self-referential.

If there’s any rumination about existentialism and the impact of isolation on an artist’s mind, it’s pretty minimal and easily drowned out by the endless chatter. This movie might be a gem for die-hard fans of Assayas, but it can come off as pretty pretentious to the rest of us. Personally, I found the first half more enjoyable than the second, and at 1 hour and 45 minutes, it definitely feels like it drags on too long.

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The Musicians (Les Musiciens)

I have an affinity for music-themed films, and just as the title says, most of the cast are actually trained classical musicians/actors. The film’s musical quartet is comprised of Peter (Daniel Garlitsky), Apolline (Emma Ravier), George (Mathieu Spinosi), and Lise (Marie Vialle), brought together by Astrid (Valérie Donzelli), who’s trying to realize her late father’s dream by uniting four Stradivarius instruments for a special concert.

Astrid’s dad is a wealthy patron of the arts, and before he died, he commissioned a musical piece from composer Charlie Beaumont (Frédéric Pierrot) for the concert. The musicians are staying in a beautiful French villa located in the Champagne region, which resembles a mansion. Each of them brings their own take on the piece, and during rehearsals, it becomes clear that their styles don’t really blend well. Fortunately, Astrid manages to persuade the reclusive Charlie to step in and assist them, which is no easy feat considering the group’s arrogance and vanity often complicate things.

While Grégoire Hetzel‘s score is lovely, I find it tough to connect with the story since the characters are pretty unlikable, especially the quartet members. Peter is arrogant, and Gen-Z-er Apolline is a self-absorbed social media star, so it’s no surprise the two have a fight over a selfie post. There seems to be a past connection between George (who’s blind) and Lise that seems intriguing, but it’s barely explored here. On the surface, it looks like a solid plan to bring in trained musicians for this film, but I can’t help but think that hiring talented actors who can convincingly play musicians might actually be a smarter choice.

Meanwhile, Astrid seems fixated on her father’s desires, but there’s no real reason given for why his dream matters so much to her. Her brother, who now manages their dad’s company, would prefer to sell the super-expensive Stradivarius for business purposes, but Astrid vehemently disagrees. Again, it’s unclear if it’s truly her father’s wish to hold onto those instruments, but she comes off as self-important. Honestly, it’s hard to empathize with the trivial issues of those in the 1%.

The only likable character is Charlie, whose insights about where the concert should be staged and how the piece should be played are instrumental (pun intended) for the group to achieve harmony in time for the concert. Written and directed by Gregory Magne, who teamed up with Haroun to co-write the script, I believe this film is likely to resonate more with classical music enthusiasts than with those seeking a profoundly emotional art-house experience.

The Musicians leans more towards drama than comedy, although there are humorous moments that arise from the absurdity of the situations and the characters themselves. All in all, it’s a mellow, leisurely-paced film with nice music (naturally), but the story doesn’t really resonate with me, so I doubt it’ll stay in my memory for long. One key takeaway is that the Stradivarius instruments are so valuable that they surpass the musicians; they even have their guards and chauffeurs!

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Are you a fan of French cinema? What do you think of these two films?

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