A playful infomercial for the Cunard Line as much as a feature film, Let Them All Talk lets veterans indulge themselves in a bit of travel porn, all the more poignant in this lockdown era. Experimental in some of its techniques, this is still director Steven Soderbergh coasting comfortably on past achievements. Questions like “Is it fun?” or “Is it good?” are secondary to whether or not you feel you are in on the joke.
Shot during an actual Atlantic crossing on the Queen Mary 2 (August 18, 2019, as the credits note), the movie has impressive if predictable production values. Posh staterooms and dining halls, casinos and discos, decks shrouded with fog or resplendent with magic hour light. The occasional wide-shot of the liner at sea could have been lifted from the “Your First Crossing” video Cunard pipes onto TV screens before leaving port.
Needing a hook to justify that location, Soderbergh adapted and improvised on a script from short story writer Deborah Eisenberg. Her plot starts with a diva-ish literary star, Alice (Meryl Streep), who’s struggling to complete her latest book.
Alice’s new agent Karen (Gemma Chan) needs that book to keep her job. She encourages Alice to accept a literary award in England, even arranging for liner passage for Alice’s two friends and nephew since the author refuses to fly.
That’s how Alice, Roberta (Candice Bergen), Susan (Dianne Wiest), and Alice’s nephew Tyler (Lucas Hedges) end up on the Queen Mary 2, with Karen sneaking on as well. Montages whisk them through customs, boarding, and basic tours. (Well, maybe not “whisk”: Soderbergh includes sweeping pans of taxis and limos entering the Brooklyn terminal parking lot, material with zero narrative purpose other than to show how those who can afford tens of thousands of dollars on a floating hotel get around town.)
Soon enough the movie settles down to its meat and potatoes: actors talking. Given slight backstories and minimal narrative twists, it’s up to the performers to flesh out their roles. That’s not a problem for Streep, who seems far more at ease here than her doddering widow in The Laundromat. She is so nuanced, so confident, so familiar with Alice that she’s a joy to watch.
Wiest digs into her part, delivering ribald reminiscences in a little-girl voice, softly but assuredly countering those who oppose her, displaying the joy of discovery as more characters enter Alice’s orbit. Like phenomenally prolific author Kelvin Krantz (director Dan Algrant in the kind of role Sidney Pollack used to play), who is too easygoing (and rich) to respond to Alice’s veiled insults.
The other performers fare less well. Gemma Chan had one of the most interesting roles in Crazy Rich Asians. Here she’s asked to unwittingly seduce Tyler — and that’s about it. Stranded in long tracking shots up and down decks as she converses with Tyler, Chan doesn’t have much to fall back on. The same happens with Bergen, who resorts to sitcom gestures for her character, someone who blames Alice for the failures in her own life.
Hedges is an anchor of sorts, the one Soderbergh cuts to when he needs to sustain long stretches of dialogue. His puppy love bit is fun but unsurprising. The rest of the time he’s basically letting the others all talk.
He has a similar role as Michelle Pfeiffer’s son in French Exit, a considerably more complex and unpredictable movie that frankly makes better use of its ocean liner. Given more to do there, Hedges shows how deep he can play. Here he’s all surface, Jesse Eisenberg imitating Woody Allen.
Let Them All Talk is pleasant, but is pleasant enough? For me the most curious question is what Soderbergh feels about it. Are the establishing shots of super-expensive locations papered over with glitzy jazz rock (from composer Thomas Newman) meant to evoke the Oceans 11 franchise? Where is the director who wrestled a phenomenal performance out of Julia Roberts in Erin Brockovich, or who shot those intricate action sequences in Haywire?
Other critics are apparently equally flummoxed. David Ehrlich in IndieWire compares Streep to director David Fincher, Peter Debruge in Variety to Argentinian author César Aira. They are looking for something that isn’t there.
