How could Piccoli blow it so big-time after appearing in more than 200 pictures? Did no one tell him that he would appear with his back to the camera for about 15 minutes in the first reel, performing with very bored-looking actors, including a completely wasted Catherine Deneuve who does not even get a close-up? It seems almost unimaginable that the stars of Belle De Jour (1964) bomb together in this utter dud all these decades later. How does a movie director of 93 years old dare to demonstrate that during a long life in the industry he has learnt next to nothing about building character and plot? I'm Going Home makes The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (in which Piccoli also starred) seem like Gone With The Wind by comparison. For example, the joke about the Figaro=reader who fancies Piccoli's seat in the café is played, not once, not twice, but a third time. Did nobody in the production team have the heart to save the Great Man from his own feeble wit? For a few pretentious cinephiles this film might hold some archival interest, but the overwhelming majority of intelligent movie-buffs will be paralysed with boredom in the first two minutes. Low budget is no excuse: Sex, Lies & Videotape was made for far less than this picture cost. And as for age, all the director demonstrates is that he has learnt nothing about pleasing an audience.
Review of I'm Going Home
