I didn’t need a sign to tell me which theatre Quartet was playing in—all I had to do was follow the large crowd of mature movie-goers. I certainly felt like an oddball, sitting in the theatre where the average age was well above 60. But do not be deceived—there is more to Quartet than meets the eye. Though it attracts an older audience with its elderly cast, it keeps viewers entranced with its excellent music, and more importantly, a theme for all ages.
Beecham House is a respectable home for the elderly, catering to retired musicians and singers. Its residents are a talented, eclectic group; their various interactions occur prior to the annual gala, where each member contributes their talent to raise money for the home.
Maggie Smith dominates the story as Jean Horton, a fragile diva who refuses to sing again. In a recent interview, she acknowledged that she has acted the part of older characters for much of her career, a specialty she has clearly perfected. She wears her old age with dignity, strength, and even some diva-like vanity—throwing around everything from sheet music to curse words.
Smith is joined by the exuberant and flirtatious Wilf Bond (Billy Connolly), quiet, opera-loving Reginald Paget (Tom Courtenay), and Cissy Robson (Pauline Collins), who rounds out the quartet with her spirit and good-heartedness. Also starring is Michael Gambon, the domineering yet forgetful egotist that orchestrates the four friends’ return to the stage.
The film is beautifully scored, with music to fit the sweeping cinematography, along with the characters’ thoughts and emotions. Most of the humour is tastefully delivered through “old folks” jokes, ranging from comparisons between drunkenness and old age to the frighteningly believable threat, “over my dead body.”
The content, however, is derived in an entirely different way. The film’s focus is on the fundamental humanity of all the characters: by the final scene, they are not viewed simply as elderly, but rather, complicated individuals. They have friends and enemies; know their limits; enjoy childish jokes; and fight for window seats. They feel shame and fear, love and happiness. Simply put, they are human.
It is this humanity that resonates with viewers, regardless of age. In a particularly optimistic scene, we see teenagers that are open to opera, and seniors that can relate to rap; and in this way the film uses music to express a more important underlying theme: the connections we all share.
As the lights came back on and the audience slowly began to rise, I realized my mistake: they weren’t ‘old people,’ simply people. One woman sincerely told her friend, “They were wonderful! They were real people, all of them.” She was right. Quartet emphasizes the humanity present in all generations, and the superb cast delivered this message with emotion, charm, and depth.
