Ryan Silberstein’s review published on Letterboxd:
“It belongs in a museum.” - Prof. Henry Jones, Jr.
Or does it? One of the more interesting aspects of Summer Hours is the examination on how art made or purchased for personal taste becomes the fodder for museums. In this case, Assayas mostly pokes fun at furniture displays. Desks without paper look so sterile. Vases without flowers are incomplete sculptures.
And this extends to all the objects d’life that one leaves behind after death. Are they useful? Practical? Sentimental? Why do we want to hold onto them?
The film loses some steam when it dips down another generation, though Assayas’ camerawork is always engaging, the younger characters feel mostly like window dressing.
Not as strong as his most recent work, but it’s clear he’s stretching his muscles here.