Review: Palm Beach

There’s a certain kind of film that feels like it’ll vanish from our screens the second someone figures out how to make virtual reality really work. Gripping stories and dramatic characters probably aren’t ever going to go away, but movies where the whole point is that we get to spend time with nice people in fancy locations – often with a bunch of delicious food being served – are the kind of virtual getaway that technology can only improve on. You probably wouldn't want to live through a Jack Reacher novel on the Star Trek holodeck, but one of those movies where you take a slow drive through the south of France? Beam me up, Scottie.

(yes, I know Scottie's Enterprise didn't have holodecks, they were introduced in Star Trek: The Next Generation, give me a break)

And so it proves to be with Palm Beach, a movie where a bunch of oldish folks go to a very nice looking beach town, stay at a very fancy mansion, take a bit of a stroll around the neighbourhood, soak up some rays, and just generally have a good old time relaxing in the sun. It doesn't quite feel like the Palm Beach Chamber of Commerce paid director Rachel Ward to film a commercial about the wonders of their little town - at least, not in the way that Any Questions For Ben felt like it was a commercial for Melbourne - but if there were a pile of brochures about purchasing beachside property outside the cinema when it was over you wouldn't be too surprised.

Okay, there is a bit of a story here too, as Frank (Bryan Brown), having made a mint from artist representation (or selling t-shirts, it's a little unclear), has invited his former band mates to his beach house for a weekend of chilling out. Actually, there’s a bit of four or five stories early on, but a lot of plot threads between these old friends with unfinished business are dropped or just fizzle out (it feels like there could possibly be a three hour directors cut somewhere). 

Unfortunately, some of the forgotten threads are the interesting ones. Richard E Grant's character is writing advertising jingles and won an award for basically ripping off the band's only hit single; he's also somewhat bitter that Frank is cashed up and he's still struggling. This side of things is quietly dropped; likewise, the fact that the band's original singer (and Frank's wife) died years ago is just thrown out there before sinking without trace. There is a family mystery that plays out involving Sam Neill's character, but it's literally the most obvious story here, and it goes all the obvious places.

(oh, and Frank tears down a neighbour's chimney because it's blocking his view, though his frustration with his impotence could be a factor as well)

Still, Brown, Neill, and Grant, along with Jacqueline McKenzie and Greta Scacchi (and others) make for entertaining beachside company to hang out with. And really, that's the point of all this. These are all well-off people with minor problems at best, and the film really doesn't pretend otherwise. It'd probably be more offensive if it tried to tell a serious story around these characters; despite the occasional gloomy expression, with the views they're currently enjoying out over the Pacific they don't have a care in the world.

- Anthony Morris

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