Beecham House is no ordinary retirement home. As the camera observes the residents in their morning routines, we learn that this English establishment is the final home of many illustrious musicians, singers, and conductors. Here, among friendships and rivalries, they spend their days by continuing to practice their craft, singing, playing instruments, even teaching music appreciation to local youngsters.
The unexpected arrival of Jean Horton (Maggie Smith), a singer whose fame is known to them all, disturbs the household’s equilibrium. As she enters, most residents assemble to applaud their famous colleague. All but Reg Paget (Tom Courtenay), whose marriage to Jean ended quickly and painfully some decades past. He still seethes with bitterness.
But Jean’s appearance presents an opportunity that might save financially challenged Beecham House. Jean and Reg, along with residents Cissy Robson (Pauline Collins) and Wilf Bond (Billy Connolly), are renowned for their definitive recording of Rigoletto, Giuseppe Verdi’s operatic tragedy. As director of the yearly gala that helps replenish the home’s funds, crotchety Cedric Livingstone (Michael Gambon) proposes to reunite this quartet to reprise the final, rousing libretto from Rigoletto, a performance that would all but guarantee the gala’s success.
But bringing the quartet together amicably, much less to sing together, seems insurmountable. The randy, fun-loving Wilf is in. So is Cissy, though as her memory fades she’ll need to have one of her “good days” at the gala. But most difficult, can the achingly bitter Reg overcome his resentment toward Jean? And can Jean emerge from her shell and participate again in life itself, let alone the gala?
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How comfortable it is to watch these veteran actors as they portray accomplished entertainers who must grapple with their frailties and try to salve old wounds. Maggie Smith, Tom Courtenay, Billy Connolly, Pauline Collins, and Michael Gambon render uniformly superb and effortless performances. They’re a joy to observe and appreciate, start to finish. The comradery is warm and reassuring. The rivalries are mirthful but never mean. “You forget I saw your Barber of Seville. Your singing brought tears to my ears,” one resident tells Wilf. “Saw you in Carmen,” he responds. “I’ll never forget it, but I’ll try.”
Dustin Hoffman, in his only credited directorial effort, seemingly stays out of their way, to good effect. He lets the camera roam throughout the residence, capturing small performances here and there as the main characters go about their business. Hoffman orchestrates what might have been a difficult finale with appropriate grace and reserve.
Cynics will no doubt delight in observing, rather obviously, that Beecham House does not convey the soul-deadening atmosphere of many retirement homes. That’s true; many details don’t quite make sense. But this is not a documentary. Quartet, like classical music itself, is meant to entertain and inspire, and it accomplishes that admirably. If this movie doesn’t touch you and give you a smile and a warm feeling at the end, you’re a heartless twerp.
Watch the early credits, which recognizes the supporting cast, real-life accomplished musicians who we’ve seen performing throughout the movie, as the camera moved through the house and the grounds and caught them practicing and teaching in the corners of scenes.