Madame is a 2018 comedy drama about a wealthy and well-connected American couple who move into a manor house in romantic Paris.
The dinner party must be one of those squeaky wheels screenwriters simply can’t resist in trying to make it work. Countless variations have dotted the cinematic landscape with many of the greats giving it a shot, spinning them into dark comedies and violent overthrows to devastating dramas. Just recently we had The Party, a wickedly dark comedy and now comes another, Amanda Sthers‘ bouncy Madame, a mostly delicious satire that has plenty of bite and sharp performances that skewers the tropes well enough even if it pulls back on the reigns a little too much.
Americans Anne (Toni Collette) and Bob (Harvey Keitel) are a long suffering married couple living in the lap of luxury in Paris, though the money isn’t quite as stable as it once was. To keep things afloat, they are forced to sell a very expensive painting, a family heirloom, just to keep up appearances. Working for them is Maria (Rossy de Palma), a hardworking woman who struggles to deal with her employers eccentricities, wanting only to do her job and stay in the shadows. The couple are hosting a lavish dinner party and unexpectedly, Bob’s son, Steven (Tom Hughes) arrives, suffering from writer’s block, and puts himself on the dinner list, becoming the 13th guest, which is troubling for Anne (that’s bad luck). To balance it out, she insists Maria masquerade as another on the list, sitting her as the fourteenth next to art dealer David (Michael Smiley), instructing her not to speak too much. Naturally, when she enters the room in a beguiling white dinner gown, she turns heads and inspires curiosity, her charms soon causing David to express some romantic interests, an act that sends prickles all up in Anne. But that’s only the start.
This is light fare, of course, but deceptively so, and Sthers, who also wrote the screenplay, populates the cast with a host off-offbeats who speak with all kinds of circuitous machinations. The Americans have never really embraced the lore and romance of the City of Lights, an opening moment clearly laying down the tracks of such when the two can’t even make a bike ride though the streets work. The two become sort of caricatures instead, with Anne especially taken by the etiquette of her wealth and social standing, miffed by Maria’s transformation at the table, obviously forgetting her role and finding the spotlight to her liking. Maria keeps her plates spinning while Anne faces further hurdles from a table loaded with thorns. It’s a tricky act to keep rolling but it definitely works.
The point is clear. Maria has entered the lion’s den and discovered that the lions are foul, the people around this table a collection of shallow and oblivious bores, and she finds herself upsetting the balance the more she partakes in the appetites, the booze lowering her inhibitions and making it easier for others to fawn … or frown. De Palma is wonderful throughout, a genuinely funny and embracing presence that makes this collision between the wealthy and the workers all the more fun.
Things shift a bit after the party and the film switches tracks but hardly loses momentum, by this point, our investment in these people and Maria’s descent almost impossible to turn away from. This is a conversational-driven film of course, and fortunately, Sthers’ script is plenty sharp with just enough entertaining tributaries to keep this well worth exploring. While the theme and setting are stale bread, the result is nonetheless fresh and thanks to some excellent turns by a cast all too happy to give it a go, this is an easy recommendation.