Perusing the filmography of Bill Holderman, you can trace his path from producing later-period movies directed by Robert Redford (The Conspirator; The Company You Keep) to writing the Redford vehicle A Walk in the Woods, to finally co-writing and directing the 2018 comedy Book Club and its new sequel, Book Club: The Next Chapter. Robert Redford does not appear in either Book Club movie, but his frequent co-star Jane Fonda does, alongside Diane Keaton, Candice Bergen and Mary Steenburgen, as a quartet of lifelong friends navigating various life changes together.
I do not bring up Redford to denigrate any of these actresses, who are, at minimum, beloved and, in some cases, genuine legends on par with the Sundance Kid himself. But Holderman’s films with Redford allow for a certain dignity in addressing the quirks and stumbling blocks of aging, even when, as in The Old Man and the Gun, the Redford character isn’t quite acting his age. Book Club: The Next Chapter does not afford its leads a similar dignity; in that department, it fails to even reach 80 for Brady levels. It starts off, though, with surprising gravity, as we learn that the book club of the previous movie has been forced to move to Zoom for the COVID-19 pandemic. The gags revolving around each actress expressing 2020-era frustrations, clowning around with new hobbies, and yearning for more human connection are surrounded by the unavoidable dead air of a conference call, but at least there’s a rueful acknowledgment of reality underneath – even if the movie, reluctant to offend any viewers who have become entrenched against that reality, dares not mention vaccines, even going so far as to have a character hospitalized not with COVID but a generic heart attack.
When the four finally reunite in person, that dead air lingers. Adrift in a sea of indifferently framed coverage that turns every shot into a reaction shot, the ladies learn that permanent free spirit Vivian (Fonda) has unexpectedly gotten engaged to Arthur (Don Johnson), her beau from the previous film. This inspires them to consider a bachelorette-party trip to Italy, despite the objections of overcautious Diane (Keaton), and the worries of Carol (Steenburgen), who isn’t sure about leaving her enfeebled husband Bruce (Craig T. Nelson) behind. Sharon (Bergen) has no such ties, being single, retired from her judgeship, and facing the recent loss of her beloved pet cat. Eventually, everyone gets on board, retrofitting their trip to the themes of a book they’ve barely discussed and may not have actually finished. In the first movie, their various love lives were upended by their book-club selection of Fifty Shades of Grey. The sequel’s club selection, Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist, seems a little higher-minded; I say “seems” only because it’s never mentioned directly the way that Fifty Shades is throughout the original, as if the filmmakers are skittish about book-talk that doesn’t revolve around an easy pop-culture reference point (and cheap punchline).
In its broadest outlines, Book Club: The Next Chapter is a harmless, mildly farcical travelogue for fans of the central actresses, as well as those casually interested in briefly recognizing Andy Garcia, Don Johnson and Craig T. Nelson. At least some of it was clearly shot in actual locations, which is more than a lot of expensive and allegedly globe-trotting blockbusters can say. But as written by Holderman and Erin Simms, The Next Chapter dithers and futzes its way through the jokes, like a halting table read of an outline. There’s a drunken quality to the banter that does none of the performers any favors, and scene after scene stretches on past liveliness and then past reason, until characters resort to quoting other movies.
For all of the club’s supposed camaraderie, Holderman seems uncertain about what to do with these women when they aren’t focused exclusively on romance. The eventual solution: circle back to love, commitment and marriage anyway. Carol reconnects with an old flame. Sharon meets an old smoothie. Vivian mulls over the wedding she thought she’d never have. Diane totes along her dead husband’s ashes and… learns to take risks, supposedly? Anyway, deep into the end credits, they all sing an original song together, with backing vocals from one of the screenwriters.
That’s the vibe of Book Club: The Next Chapter: A quarter celebratory, a quarter embarrassed, adding up to around half a movie. Some film fans vehemently appreciate this subgenre of older-lady all-star comedies as a kind of pre-reclamation, unapologetically basking in the wine-grandma corniness of these beloved figures getting paid for an Italian vacation and some light green-screening. But watching this particular unretirement party, it’s hard to imagine anyone involved feels like they’re doing career-best or even necessarily career-par work. They’re certainly not saying much of anything about this stage of life (or even this stage of stardom), beyond the usual self-nullifying platitudes about staying true to yourself while continuing to grow. It’s not fair to expect The Old Man and the Gun, but I’d settle for Jane Fonda doing her own A Walk in the Woods. And wouldn’t it be great to see Diane Keaton in a movie as perceptive, stylish and light on its feet as, say, Gloria Bell? (That underseen movie comes to mind because its unofficial theme song is also performed here, albeit not by any of the main stars or screenwriters.) Hell, even 80 for Brady had a looming sense of mortality beneath its various antics and shenanigans. Book Club: The Next Chapter starts off with a basic understanding of pandemic-era foibles and finishes up looking more like live-forever denialism.
Director: Bill Holderman
Writer: Bill Holderman, Erin Simms
Starring: Diane Keaton, Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen, Mary Steenburgen, Andy Garcia, Craig T. Nelson, Don Johnson
Release Date: May 12, 2023
Jesse Hassenger is associate movies editor at Paste. He also writes about movies and other pop-culture stuff for a bunch of outlets including Polygon, Inside Hook, Vulture, and SportsAlcohol.com, where he also has a podcast. Following @rockmarooned on Twitter is a great way to find out about what he’s watching or listening to, and which terrifying flavor of Mountain Dew he has most recently consumed.