Long before he made headlines for committing assault with a deadly telephone, Russell Crowe had made it abundantly clear that relaxation was not his forte. Onscreen, he commands, he rages, he implodes — he will have his vengeance, in this life or the next. So it's almost painful to watch his strenuous attempts at insouciance in A Good Year, a charm-free romantic comedy set mostly in the bucolic vineyards of Peter Mayle's Provence. As Max Skinner, a London bond shark who inherits the crumbling French château where he once spent lazy summers with his favorite uncle (Albert Finney, aggressively avuncular in mellow flashback), Crowe seems ill at ease from the outset, emasculated by the character's nerdy hornrims and leaning too hard on a vague quizzicality that he's mistaken for playfulness. He's even asked to do some light slapstick, flailing around at the bottom of an empty swimming pool, which only serves as a reminder that this is an actor who achieves most of his power from a terrible stillness.
Decamping to the new property for a hasty renovation and quick sell, Max predictably succumbs to the region's fabled soft light, rich cuisine and willowy-but-headstrong femmes. (Marion Cotillard, from Innocence and A Very Long Engagement, plays the designated hometown hottie.) Lest we fall asleep amidst all of this vicarious leisure, there's also an irrelevant subplot involving a young American woman (played by rising Australian star Abbie Cornish) who may have a claim to the estate, plus some go-nowhere intrigue inspired by the phenomenon of "garage wines" — ultra-exclusive vintages not connected to an established terroir. Reportedly, it was director Ridley Scott — not exactly known for his lightness of touch either — who concocted the original idea for A Good Year, suggesting to his friend and Provençal neighbor that he (Mayle) write a novel about garage wines, which could then become a major motion picture. The result is so minor that it practically evaporates before your eyes. — Mike D'Angelo.
