Book Club: The Next Chapter Review

Book Club: The Next Chapter
Post-pandemic, four 70-something friends take a trip to Italy as a bachelorette party. But with lost luggage and unexpected romantic complications to contend with, all does not go smoothly.

by Helen O'Hara |
Published on

Here’s another of the surprisingly robust mini-genre of comedies where Jane Fonda and friends take a trip. Following 80 For Brady, another quartet sets out to prove that there's life and love after 70 – and quite a lot of limoncello too. Sharper and funnier than 2018's original Book Club, this manages to vaguely entertain despite hitting clichés harder and more frequently than any septuagenarian should dare.

Plot wise, imagine a jaunty "It’s always wine o'clock" sign — these ladies barely manage a scene without a glass in hand — and you’re about there. Following a weirdly charming pandemic montage, we learn that perennial man-eater Vivian (Fonda) is now engaged to Arthur (Don Johnson). To celebrate, her book club friends – mousy Diane (Diane Keaton), cheery Carol (Mary Steenburgen) and cynical Sharon (Candice Bergen) – plan a trip to Italy. Following some extremely gentle obstacles, everyone works through their issues and emerges happier on the other side.

The plot unrolls inexorably towards a happy ending with barely a bend in the road.

The leads are all deeply accomplished performers, capable of delivering stories far worse than this with conviction, so they just about carry the nonsense along. They're helped by the charisma of their love interests, including Johnson, Andy Garcia, Craig T. Nelson and now Hugh Quarshie. The men are younger, on average, than their leading ladies, and playing barely two-dimensional roles. Then again, four actresses who worked through the 70s and 80s have earned a little turnabout.

With a few good zingers about classical nudes and a lot less Fifty Shades chat this time, it’s a significant improvement from returning director Bill Holderman. The plot unrolls inexorably towards a happy ending with barely a bend in the road, though occasionally someone will accidentally say something true, or the script will provide something toothy for its stars, and it will sing for a moment. Just a moment, though: this is essential viewing only if you’re really desperate for a Tuscan getaway, or deathly allergic to surprises.

This is silly and sentimental, but it’s also basically well-meaning and inoffensive. Best watched after quite a few grappas, or with your sprightly grandmother.
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