Review: Book Club targets 50 shades of grey hair

In Book Club Diane Keaton, Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen and Mary Steenburgen play four old school friends who finally get around to reading Fifty Shades Of Grey at their monthly group.

EL James’s unfathomably popular trilogy causes the ladies’ libidos to stir and, as is always the case in the “grey pound” drama, inspires them to some late-in-life adventure.

A sex comedy aimed at pensioners may sound revolutionary but director Bill Holderman has no intention of upsetting his audience.

The gentle drama that follows lands somewhere in between a very tame Sex And The City and a slightly risque episode of The Golden Girls.

It’s not a very memorable film but it does provide a startling example of the differences between British and American cinema.

With Marigold Hotel, Quartet and Finding Your Feet, the writers tried to find characters and situations that their audience could relate to.

Book Club is an aspirational fantasy aimed at the midweek matinee crowd. Everyone is filthy rich, wildly successful, fabulously glamorous and suspiciously youthful.

For restaurant entrepreneur Carol (Steenburgen), the S&M fantasy inspires her to take charge in the bedroom.

This induces mild panic in her depressed, motorcycle-obsessed husband Bruce (Craig T Nelson). 

Judge Sharon (Bergen) gave up on men two decades earlier after divorcing Tom (Ed Begley Jr) but James’s turgid prose inspires her to try her hand at internet dating.

The mucky book seems to have a more magical effect on Vivien (Jane Fonda) and recently widowed Diane (Diane Keaton), who is almost hit on by a funny, handsome, multi-millionaire pilot (Andy Garcia) who instantly falls for her kooky charms.

Meanwhile, commitment-phobe Vivien runs into her dashing ex-fiance Arthur (Don Johnson), who she last saw when they split up 40 years previously.

He is recently divorced, rich and still crazy about her. The four threads are a bit of a mixed bag.

Fonda gets the saltiest lines but Steenburgen gets the funniest/cringiest scene when Carol spikes her poor husband’s beer with Viagra.

Bergen’s scenes are the most touching. There’s a quiet dignity about the way this withdrawn lady tentatively embraces her romantic side.

And as her first dates are played by regular-looking septuagenarians Richard Dreyfuss and Wallace Shawn, they feel messily convincing.

Book Club isn’t meant to be a serious film, it’s a gentle diversion and its four leads have more than enough star-wattage to keep

it ticking over until its improbable finale. But you do wonder what they could have done with an edgier script.

After all, Fonda was in Kloot, Bergen was in Carnal Knowledge and Keaton was in The Godfather.

The fact they are still working in age-obsessed Hollywood must count as some sort of achievement but they are far better than this.

The Bromley Boys is a non-league version of Fever Pitch, with production values to match.

Based on Dave Roberts’s memoir, it’s 1969 and 15-year-old Dave (Brenock O’Connor) is utterly obsessed with Bromley FC even though they are rooted to the bottom of one of England’s lowest divisions.

As Alan Davies’s mostly pointless narration explains, weird Dave has always been shunned by children his own age.

But hard times on the terraces have seen him befriend three middle-aged men.

There’s woolly hat fan Roy (TJ Herbert) who, in one scene, the police (perhaps understandably) mistake for a local pervert.

Then there’s Keith from The Office (Ewen Macintosh), whose new persona is defined entirely by a bad suit and a dreadful wig.

Finally, there’s a barely written character played by Mark Dymond, who seems to be performing in his own clothes after missing his wacky costume fitting.

Dave is devoted to his club and his new pals above all else, even though the chairman’s daughter (Savannah Baker) is unfathomably attracted to him.

A different kind of film would find a psychological or even a medical explanation for Dave’s behaviour and would raise a red flag over the age of his best friends.

But apart from a couple of scenes where his parents (Alan Davies and Martine McCutcheon) fret over his expulsion from school, his obsession is played for very broad laughs.

There are also a couple of sizeable plot holes but a smattering of amusing lines and an enthusiastic turn from young O’Connor mean that wrestling film Walk Like A Panther still remains the worst British sport comedy of the year.

Condensing a football career spanning six decades into one documentary must have seemed like a daunting task for film-makers Gabriel Clarke and Torquil Jones.

Their trick with Bobby Robson: More Than A Manager is to concentrate on the short period where all the various forces in his life came into focus – the single season he spent in charge of Barcelona in the mid-1990s.

The players were under-performing and the board was at war with the fans over the sacking of Johan Cruyff. Robson, a born fighter, was in his element.

This touching and beautifully paced film chronicles that eventful year, while jumping back and forward in time to show his stints in charge of Ipswich, Newcastle and the last great England team.

Alex Ferguson, Jose Mourinho, Ronaldo (the likeable one) Alan Shearer and Pep Guardiola talk about how he inspired a dressing room while a teary Paul Gascoigne relates how a terminally-ill Robson made sure he had support during his darkest days.

This was the first time I’ve seen Gazza cry since the 1990 World Cup semi-final. This time, I was blubbing too.

The format of McKellen: Playing The Part couldn’t be much simpler. Director Joe Stephenson plonks 79-year-old Sir Ian McKellen in a comfy chair and then cuts the ensuing

interview with dramatised scenes of his early days and archive footage of his many triumphs on stage and screen.

Interviews with friends and a few personal questions may have given a more complete portrait but who wouldn’t want to spend 90 minutes with this warm, funny and endearingly self-effacing gentleman?