Darling of the BFI, the Academic-Pseud axis and hangers-on, Hanif Kurashi tones down his trademark graphic sex-laden scripts this time around, possibly in an attempt to prove he can write just as well as the big boys, alas ... On the other hand he does have some fine interpreters available and more than adept at fashioning silk purses out of sow's ears and who, for reasons best known to themselves, seem happy to snatch a soufflé from the jaws of the suet pudding masquerading as a script. A couple of weeks ago we - and I was among them - were of the opinion that Cate Blanchett had it in the satchel Oscar-wise but now she has some real competition in the shape of Lindsay Duncan, who walks away with this one from under the nose of Jim Broadbent, not exactly a slouch himself if anybody asks you. For good measure the whole thing is set in Paris and that alone is capable of outweighing the drek that Kureshi calls a script. See it for Duncan and for Paris, in any order you like.
Review of Le Week-End
