There is a spoiler alert in this review. I've always liked Diane Lane, but even she couldn't carry this movie. It's your typical road trip through some spectacular part of Europe movie, but nowhere near as good as say French Kiss or Only You .

That being said, I would've given this movie another star or two except for the ending. After keeping the adventure platonic for the entire movie, the married Diane Lane kisses her road trip buddy and seemingly plans to meet up with him at a later date back in the States. This is immediately after her husband leaves her a voicemail telling her he loves her. Maybe it's just me, but I've never found anything remotely amusing or romantic about adultery. The last five minutes ruined the whole movie for me.

There is no escaping the three pillars of movie-making: they have always been narrative, cinematography and emotion. If any pillar is weak, the movie struggles but if all three are weak the movie doesn't have a chance. With an appealing plot, a favourite actress, and a road trip across France, how could Paris Can Wait (2016) not succeed?

A story of an unhurried drive through France is full of promise. Neglected wife Anne (Diane Lane) and movie mogul husband Michael (Alec Baldwin) have been in Cannes and about to board a flight to Paris for a long-awaited holiday. At the last minute, she is advised not to fly because of an ear infection and agrees instead to be driven to Paris by her husband's French business associate Jacques (Arnaud Viard). What was expected to be a few hours drive becomes a two-day road trip, meandering into places Anne would never have seen without Jacques' knowledge of local attractions. Jacques is a gourmand who knows every good restaurant along the way and Anne allows him to show off his taste for fine food, French wines and other hidden cultural treasures. The trip is punctuated by long and luxurious meals, and frequent commentary on local history, architecture and customs. Despite Jacques' flirtations, they stay in separate rooms while Anne dutifully stays in touch by phone with her by-now anxious husband and daughter. By the time they arrive in Paris, Michael is showing his wife more attention than he has for years.

For this story to work, it needs rising romantic tension, some surprising revelations or narrative twists, or at least a sense of excitement about possibilities lying in wait. Instead it is two days of small talk punctuated by Anne's photo-taking: even when each reveals an emotional event in their lives it quickly dissolves into banal conversation without impact on their relationship or how we see them. The idea that Jacques' flirtations might succeed with Anne is deflated by his encounters with girlfriends along the way. Even the gastronomic feasts fall flat as visual treats: one plate of something delicious quickly loses its appeal when the plates just keep coming. The photographic delights of countryside France are captured inelegantly through car windows or in other uninspiring ways, and Jacques' informative tour-guide commentary has the tonal enthusiasm of someone reading from a travel brochure. The mediocre script is made worse by dialogue delivered as if Anne and Jacques were paced by a metronome, each taking turns to speak with the same pause between sentences. This lack of spontaneity carries throughout their journey except when Jacques' car breaks down and he immediately springs into picnic mode, grabbing a basket of goodies, and spreading a blanket alongside a lake in a scene that is pure Monet. That's what you do when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, isn't it?

Given its quality ingredients this film should have worked. If the story represents a personal journey of self-awareness its revelations remain obscure. As it is based on the director's real-life experience, perhaps reality got in the way of creative filmmaking. Whatever the reason, the delicious promise embedded in the wonderful title Paris Can Wait does not even come close to fulfilment.

The Coppola name comes with big expectations nowadays, but Eleanor Coppola (wife of Francis Ford, mother of Sofia) offers up a sweet, simplistic and somewhat conventional film about a 50 something woman who stumbles her way into a delightful adventure.

Diane Lane plays Anne, the elegant but somewhat neglected wife of a successful producer. They are supposed to take a long-delayed vacation in Paris only for that vacation to get delayed again when her husband, Michael, has to rush to Budapest for work. Anne is initially supposed to go with him, but when a severe earache prevents her from flying Michael's producing partner Jacques steps in and offers to drive her up to Paris. What is supposed to only be a quick car ride slouches into a several day long trip as spendthrift Jacques insists on making numerous detours to sample the architectural, culinary and cultural delights.

The movie is full of clichés (I mean really, a charming Frenchman named Jacques?) but Lane and Arnaud Viard have good chemistry and it's fun playing tourist by proxy as they stroll around the countryside flirting and looking chic. The movie only stumbles towards the end when it tries to get serious.

Early on the film comments about the importance of timing the perfect soufflé so that it doesn't deflate. Unfortunately, while made up of all the perfect ingredients this film isn't time quite write. It deflates a little upon conclusion but much like a soufflé would be, it still tastes perfectly alright.