There are several very recognizable names appearing here. Among those that are familiar and those that are not, everyone involved is clearly having a good time, and that mirthful spirit is passed on to the audience in some measure. The music is consistently pleasant, and it speaks well to filmmaker Robert Benayoun and prolific screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière that the screenplay is filled with countless kernels of cleverness, and the movie retains a lighthearted frivolity at all times. It's also very noteworthy and welcome that 'Sérieux comme le plaisir,' or 'Serious as pleasure,' earnestly depicts a loving polyamorous relationship without simply using it to fuel drama - e.g. The usual trope of a love triangle in which a distinct pair forms, leaving the third high and dry. There's just one problem: delightful as each small bit may be in and of itself, and for all the cleverness that this can claim, it's mostly just a cavalcade of sheer randomness, with the only through-line being a broad stroke of "Ariane, Bruno, and Patrice go on a road trip." Some gags are discretely connected to that through-line, and some are not; either way, too much comes off as nothing more than a half-formed idea: the notion is there, the foundation for something greater, but nothing more is done with it. Nothing more is done with it, and the film gleefully moves on to the next Whatever.
The simple fact of the matter is that whatever enjoyment one might obtain from this feature is substantially lesser than it might have been had Benayoun and Carrière reined in their impulses just a little, or altogether left out some thoughts. 'Sérieux comme le plaisir' gaily and indifferently flits from one idea to another, then to another, for all of its 95 minutes; if all the silliness were more concretely interconnected, or employed with more focused underlying intelligence, it might have amounted to more. As it is, it's hard as a viewer to place in higher regard a title that's so unconcerned about itself, no matter how charming, lovely, or blithely amusing it may be. Jane Birkin, Richard Leduc, and Georges Mansart have swell on-screen chemistry; the rest of the cast makes the most of the time that they have. Benayoun's direction seems capable, and this is well made in every capacity. But save for observing the list of credits and the sincere treatment of the trio's relationship, what about this picture can possibly be said to make much of any impression at all?
There's no reason not to watch; however, there's no specific reason to watch, either. I suppose what it comes down to is that this is fine for something very light and carefree, a pleasant nothing to fill one's time. Sometimes that's all a movie needs to be. I still wish there were some particular spark about the production, however, because even at its best this can only ever earn a soft, passing recommendation. Save 'Sérieux comme le plaisir' for a quiet, lazy afternoon, and let's just leave it at that.
The simple fact of the matter is that whatever enjoyment one might obtain from this feature is substantially lesser than it might have been had Benayoun and Carrière reined in their impulses just a little, or altogether left out some thoughts. 'Sérieux comme le plaisir' gaily and indifferently flits from one idea to another, then to another, for all of its 95 minutes; if all the silliness were more concretely interconnected, or employed with more focused underlying intelligence, it might have amounted to more. As it is, it's hard as a viewer to place in higher regard a title that's so unconcerned about itself, no matter how charming, lovely, or blithely amusing it may be. Jane Birkin, Richard Leduc, and Georges Mansart have swell on-screen chemistry; the rest of the cast makes the most of the time that they have. Benayoun's direction seems capable, and this is well made in every capacity. But save for observing the list of credits and the sincere treatment of the trio's relationship, what about this picture can possibly be said to make much of any impression at all?
There's no reason not to watch; however, there's no specific reason to watch, either. I suppose what it comes down to is that this is fine for something very light and carefree, a pleasant nothing to fill one's time. Sometimes that's all a movie needs to be. I still wish there were some particular spark about the production, however, because even at its best this can only ever earn a soft, passing recommendation. Save 'Sérieux comme le plaisir' for a quiet, lazy afternoon, and let's just leave it at that.
