Most reviews of "A Late Quartet" are nonsense. Don't see this movie if you expect to better your understanding of Beethoven's last compositions. Don't see this film if you expect to listen to his Opus 131 uncut. Don't see this film if you have a hyper-sensitivity to melodrama. This film isn't in the least a melodrama even if, thank goodness, it is far less heady than anything Henry James or Jane Austen might have created.
What "A Late Quartet" is is a simple psychodrama that happens to deal with the lives of performing artists in New York, New York, a particularly artistic milieu. Are artists sometimes conflicted? Do they experience loss? Do they love? Do they debate whether instinct or methodical behavior yields the better result? Yes, yes, yes, and yes.
The story line is interesting enough, the acting is first-rate, the direction is tops from the top dog to the second assistant viola instructor of Ms. Keener. We liked the film, which was apparently a big-budget production. That's a shame, because, judging from the box office numbers, it may never cover its costs.
Go see it.
