Chéri's concept is there, a stab at elegiac reflection on ageless infatuation with the youngest of the twosome trying to catch up, but the way it's handled transforms this adaptation of Colette's novel into a well-dressed yet emotionless mope fest. Imagine an hour and a half of his insufferable and awkward blathering, while he squirms within the swaddling of the aging "lady of the night". Sure, vanity's part of the story -- the preservation of youth, no matter how selfish or unabashed it can be -- yet the slapdash way it's handled holds little emotional context and far less lustful abandon than needed from its icy facade.
As we follow Chéri's reckless second-guessing in his relationship with Lea, director Frears asks us to invest ourselves in his transformation from a whimpering silver-spoon Parisian to an awakened young man -- and quickly. It extends further than Rupert Friend's able to keep up, much like his character's relationship with Lea. Instead of brooding and reflective, he's little more than a dour sap complaining in a corner. If that were the only dimension to his character, we'd be in the clear; however, Chéri's the boundless apple in Lea's mind, a man (boy) whom she's fallen deeply for over their lackadaisical time together in the French countryside. Quite frankly, it's a miracle that anyone's able to see her reasoning in falling so deeply for his self-absorbed, whiny ramblings, whether it's spewing from a chiseled, swooning physical specimen or not. Ryan Phillippe's turn as Valmont in Cruel Intentions convinces more as a promiscuous yet transformative brat than Friend as Chéri, which doesn't bode well as he branches from Lea's comfort and into the latches of an arranged marriage put in motion simply for "grandchildren". It's not so much a problem with the character's scripting or with Friend's performance, really, but a clumsy and infuriating combination of the two that collides into a poorly-drawn complainer.
Ideas are flowing here, including reflections on a misaligned love, yet the chemistry between the leads isn't existent enough to sell the heartbreaking layers that the story offers. Instead, Michelle Pfeiffer gathers together as much of the raw emotionality she can from Colette's novel, which makes us grasp the aging courtesan's mindset of her faded glory years as something of a starlet. Through textured, slight physical drama and a wide-eyed sense of absorbing both her infantile lover and his mother -- woefully given life by miscast Kathy Bates into a cackling, silly caricature -- Lea's internal realizations intrigue far more than this oddly-mismatched love she shares for her unshaped man. Pfeiffer almost makes the film worth the time, as her graceful aging and lust for life coaxes us into believing in the feelings she shares for her leech-like confused young love, even when we can't come close to fathoming it ourselves.
Though photographed and costumed with impeccable precision to wrap us in sumptuous Old French splendor, there's emptiness and a lack of gut-wrenching hunger underneath Chéri. Stephen Frears is no stranger to passion, whether we're talking about stately focus in The Queen, a persevering eye for the stage in Mrs. Henderson Presents, or the bashful yet hearty sense of endearment with High Fidelity. However, his experience with literal passionate yearning in Dangerous Liaisons should've come into play more within his take on Colette's novel, as the story of surface-level qualms and an unquenchable lust between two highly-desirable entities carries very little sizzle -- emotional, physical, or otherwise. At least it gets the beautiful setting down for our visual delight and respectfully introduces us to the fading courtesan's whims and desires, even when the squashed chemistry between our leads leaves it rather hollow.
Video and Audio:
Chéri comes in a 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen image that attractively preserves Frears' theatrical presentation. It's packed with winderful colors, both drenched in the warmth of beautiful French landscapes to the creeping coldness within interior shots. Detail remains strong and accurate, though the image carries a somewhat blurry nature about a wealth of its scenes. The costume and set design both look striking here, grasping at bold colors and intricacy throughout. It's a pleasing offering, if a bit hazy.
Audio comes in a Dolby Digital 5.1 track that does little beyond serve the film's purpose. Some sound elements like the clapping of horse hooves and the flash from a vintage camera sound great. The musical score stays buoyant and vibrant when used, never drowning out the clear yet natural dialogue. It's a fine, relative non-dynamic Dolby track that props up the film's visual attractiveness well. English SDH, French, and Spanish subtitles are available to accompany the sole audio option.
Light on features, Chéri comes with an interview heavy Making of Chéri (8:50, 16x9) that brings Frears and screenwriter Christopher Hamton on for insight into their process of adapting Colette. A series of two Deleted Scenes also adorn the tail end of the disc, which amount to a little under two minutes of added material.
Though likely a fine companion to Colette's book, Chéri disappoints with its stilted emotional context and deflated chemistry between its leads. Michelle Pfeiffer's rather good as the aging courtesan Lea, one of her best from the past ten years, though her slinky, subtle turn isn't enough to bolster Rupert Friend's Chéri up much higher than that of a cranky, childish lush. It's an attractive period drama, sure, but Stephen Frears' typically tight grip on stirring emotion through subtlety isn't as readily visible here as with his other works. Rent It.