‘Book Club: The Next Chapter’: Review

Dir: Bill Holderman. US. 2023. 107mins

Bright, colourful and relentlessly frothy, Book Club: The Final Chapter is not so much a film as a series of inspirational posters and Italian postcards stitched haphazardly together. The lack of any coherent plot has not stopped the first film’s four stars — Diane Keaton, Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen and Mary Steenburgen — from reuniting for a jolly around Italy, and the scenery is certainly a diversion. But, despite the considerable talents of its leads and the tasty promise of a film about enduring female friendships, this proves to be an overstuffed, oversweet confection. 

 An overstuffed, oversweet confection

In 2018, Book Club took over $104m worldwide, undoubtedly tempting audiences keen to see more narratives involving vibrant older protagonists. Universal will be hoping that this sequel does much of the same, and it may well offer appealing counter-programming to noisy blockbusters such as Guardians Of The Galaxy: Vol 3, still going strong, and the forthcoming Fast X. Critical response is, however, likely to be subdued.

A brief prologue establishes the fact that lifelong pals Diane (Keaton), Vivian (Fonda), Sharon (Bergen) and Carol (Steenburgen) managed to keep their book club — and their friendship — going during Covid-19 lockdowns via a series of wryly funny Zoom calls. The foursome have also retained the adventurous spirit they discovered after reading Fifty Shades Of Grey in the first film, and the action soon shifts to a post-pandemic trip to Italy.

This vacation is partly inspired by the fact that the eternally single Vivian has agreed to marry old flame Arthur (Don Johnson), and partly by the fact that they have just read Paul Coelho’s novel about destiny and opportunity, ’The Alchemist’. Notions of fate, choice and even – via Carol’s fear of losing her husband Bruce (Craig T Nelson) following his recent heart attack – mortality waft through the screenplay by director Bill Holderman and co-writer Erin Simms (both returning from the first film). But such psychological and spiritual insight remain mere wisps of ideas, and the characters largely talk in glib epithets: ’Life is what you make of it’, ’Do something brave’. Ad infinitum. 

These women remain tiresomely upbeat even when calamitous (and contrived) events threaten to scupper their fun. Their journey is beset by stolen luggage, a burst tyre and even imprisonment — all to the strains of an invasively peppy score, punctuated with recognisable pop songs sung in Italian. It helps, of course, that they are wealthy enough to replace their clothes and that they are routinely rescued by a fleet of Italian men — including, in one of many eye-rolling scenes, a handsome policeman Vivian mistakes for a stripper. Yet the film is so doggedly determined to show that it is possible to have fun ‘even’ in your older years that it robs these women of any interesting human qualities. Any shadows of anger, frustration or doubt are immediately pushed aside in favour of a sunny-or-else disposition which smacks more of The Stepford Wives than La Dolce Vita. 

Of the four, Bergen comes off best, her single Sharon — now a retired judge –  the most well-defined character; a sharp talking, smart, sarcastic woman who values both her intelligence and her sexuality, and revels in both. Fonda’s Vivian is charming and headstrong, and is helped by being given the meatiest story strand. But while they, Keaton and Steenburgen do their best to make an impact, all are stymied by a two-dimensional screenplay that gives them very little autonomy other than to prove they are still vivacious and attractive. And for a film which purports to defy Hollywood ageism, there are a barrage of jokes and obvious observations about advancing age. 

The film looks great, a reported two-month shoot in Italy taking in all the obvious sights, from the ancient ruins of Rome to the canals of Venice and, finally, the rolling vineyards of Tuscany. (There are, however, a few scenes which, in contrast, look as though they were filmed on a studio backlot). But devoid of narrative heft, these over-lit vistas become simply a parade of holiday brochure vignettes complete with glaring product placement for everything from Amazon to Lufthansa (“It was a great flight!” Diane randomly enthuses, during an unrelated conversation in a prison cell).

Finally, towards the end of the film, when the ladies have reached their destination and the madcappery has calmed, the story hits a genuinely poignant seam of female friendship — but it’s nothing more than a postscript. It’s time to close the book on this particular franchise.