This sentimental Michael Caine drama is so dull that doctors could prescribe it to treat insomnia. What the hell, they could probably use it to medically induce a coma. Barely even bothering with the accent, Caine is Matthew Morgan, a retired American philosophy professor living in Paris. A cantankerous old fart, he refuses to speak French, but remains in Paris because that’s where he lived with his wife, who died three years earlier. Matthew gets a new lease of life – don’t they always – when he meets a young dance teacher, Pauline (Clémence Poésy), on the bus. This is a May-to-September romance without any actually romance. Does Michael fancy Pauline? (Who wouldn’t, she’s Clémence Poésy?). But the story is too tasteful and shy to go there.
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