‘Now, I’m 36, and all I think about is money...’
As I have discussed many times before, dialogue is probably the single most important element of a film that determines whether I’ll fall in love with it or not. This may be because many of the directors who got a hold of me in my formative years (Kevin Smith, Quentin Tarantino, the Coen brothers, etc) made films that were very dialogue led. Unfortunately, dialogue seems to be a bit of a lost art in modern day cinema. It’s rare to hear a genuinely memorable or interesting line of dialogue now, and it’s even rarer to hear full conversations of great dialogue like the ones that were very prevalent during the ’90s. My Dinner with Andre, released in 1981, predates the independent talkies of the ’90s by several years, and therefore serves as a seminal text in the subgenre of small groups of characters talking in rooms…
Andre Gregory and Wallace Shawn play a version of themselves (an important distinction vs actually playing themselves) as two old friends reuniting over dinner at an upscale restaurant in New York. Nearly all of the film’s runtime takes place in one location, around one table even, as the two share their respective philosophies on life, the arts, relationships, and everything else that enters their heads.
I should begin by making it clear that when I say this is a film in which two people sit and talk in a restaurant, I am not exaggerating. There is nothing else going on here. No flashbacks. No flights of fancy. What makes this unlikely premise captivating throughout is the raw charisma of the two performers (both of whom are exceptional), the quality of the screenplay, and the authenticity that this unique situation encourages. Gregory and Shawn were friends in real life and this is obvious in every shared glance, moment of exasperation and meditative chuckle. This film replicates that feeling you get when you connect with someone, really connect, to the point where for that one moment, whether it be just a few seconds, an hour or two, or an entire evening, everything else fades into the background. The moment in which the two friends realise that all the other patrons have gone home and the restaurant staff are packing up around them will be familiar to anyone who has been surprised to hear last orders being called in an empty bar. That feeling of being lost in the reverie of companionship is rarefied air indeed, and those who get to breathe it in are more privileged than they know.
I loved My Dinner with Andre. It reminded me of working in pubs and listening in to someone’s in-depth conversations under the pretence of cleaning up and smiling to myself during a stolen moment of intimacy – a unique and quite lovely film.
