No recent film starts better than this one; it out-Altmans Altman with its stunning fragmented introduction of a large cast in a confused situation as they hurriedly board the train taking them away to the funeral in the provinces. It's even helped for an Anglo-Saxon audience in that we don't know who the hell any of these French actors are. (But aren't they terrific?) The first 45 mins or thereabouts are a breathtaking hand-held roller-coaster ride more exhilarating than... well, than more or less anything you can think of. Unfortunately the train journey ends, and we settle down into another hour of vie de chateau banalities, in one of those big old houses no-one can afford to light properly. All of the usual plots raise their tired old heads: gay and straight infidelities, dotty old women and sinister old men, ravishing rent boys with HIV, abortion, drugs, inheritances, you name it and who cares? To cap it all when the missing guest finally arrives, as he was bound to - guess what? He's transgendered. Please!!! As a film director Chereau is every bit as astounding as he used to be working on stage. Please though, Patrice - try working with a script next time. (I know, there's been a next time already, and 'Intimacy' is just about opening in London, vastly famous already for 10 seconds or something of non-simulated heterosexual oral sex. I can wait.)
