Based on the novel by Elin Hilderbrand, The Perfect Couple is an expensively-dressed fable about a lavish wedding in Nantucket, the desirable island paradise off Cape Cod, which on this evidence is an enclave of conspicuous wealth and gross moral turpitude. The tale is an Americanised version of the good old country house mystery, and behind the superficial veneer of fabulous homes and expensive boats lurks a hinterland of avarice and cruel intentions.
At the core of the action is best-selling novelist and matriarch Greer Garrison Winbury, played by an imperious Nicole Kidman with maximum hauteur and a carefully-coached English accent. Her son Benji is about to marry Ms Amelia Sacks (Eve Hewson), and the household is a-bustle with preparations for this momentous event as menus are prepared, guests are catered for and delivery persons keep turning up with yet more invaluable supplies. But Greer isn’t entirely convinced that the diffident and impecunious Amelia has the requisite social cachet to be admitted into the Winburys’ magic circle.
However, Amelia’s best friend and maid of honour, the improbably-named Merritt Monaco (Meghann Fahy, pictured left with Hewson), radiates the kind of magnetic glamour that can wreak havoc with the conventional order of things. One of the things upon which she wreaks this havoc is Greer’s husband Tag, a grizzled roué played with stubbly, daredevil panache by Liev Schreiber.
Indeed, Schreiber’s gleefully boundary-busting performance is the best reason for watching The Perfect Couple, and his drunken one-man pantomime which interrupts the carefully-planned launch party for Greer’s latest novel is the highlight of the show. The surrounding cast, however, pale a little in comparison.
For instance, the Winburys are blessed… or maybe that’s not the word… with three sons. The groom, Benji (Billy Howle), seems pleasant but ineffectual, and his younger brother Will (Sam Nivola) rather sweet but insubstantial. However, the oldest brother Thomas (Jack Reynor) is a sarcastic, embittered jerk, jealous and self-destructive. He has found a compatible partner in his wife Abby (Dakota Fanning), currently pregnant and secretly harbouring considerable quantities of ill-will. They are, I suppose, perfectly matched.
The best-laid marital plans are blown to bits when a corpse is found floating in the sea (sadly, it’s one of the more interesting characters). The story morphs into a whodunnit with overtones of class warfare and social satire (there’s also a large inheritance at stake), and manages to crowbar in a dodgy British geezer called Broderick (Thomas Flanagan) who looks like he’s on day release from a Guy Ritchie movie.
The murder investigation is handled by a double act (pictured above) of local police chief Dan Carter (Michael Beach) and detective Nikki Henry (Donn Lynne Champlin). It’s a stereotypical good-bad cop routine, with Carter firm but avuncular while Henry is sour and belligerent.
Between them, the cops come up with an utterly ludicrous hypothesis about whodiddit, yet the eventual explanation is, if it's possible, even more absurd. And there’s an odd little coda set, for no discernible reason, amid the penguins at London Zoo. It’s lovely to look at, but it’s all rather silly.
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