What happens when fading artistic genius meets a con artist with a conscience? That’s the deliciously awkward setup of The Christophers. The story follows Julian, an aging artist whose once-revered opinions have been metaphorically shoved into society’s attic, gathering dust next to forgotten trends and questionable haircuts. Enter Lori, a slick con artist who initially sees Julian as just another opportunity but ends up discovering that people, like art, are a lot more complicated than they first appear.
The two find themselves tangled in a scheme that slowly morphs into something more meaningful, as plans of deception evolve into unexpected friendship and reflection.
Cast
Ian McKellen is unapologetically brilliant as Julian. The man is practically unleashed here delivering monologue after monologue with the kind of theatrical flair that makes you lean in rather than check your phone. McKellen plays Julian like a young child trapped inside an older body: jolly, enthusiastic, and bursting with opinions that tumble out faster than you can process them. You can almost feel the improvisation bubbling under the surface.
Julian’s crueler observations land particularly well. Once a voice society adored, he’s now someone whose opinions feel shelved half-finished and ignored. McKellen delivers those moments with both bite and bittersweet honesty.
Opposite him, Michaela Coel is fantastic as Lori. She starts off as a slick operator, the kind of con artist who can charm the wallet out of your pocket while complimenting your shoes. But beneath that confidence is a deep well of insecurity, and Coel lets that vulnerability slowly surface as Lori begins developing something resembling… a conscience.
Together, McKellen and Coel bounce off each other beautifully. Their opposing personalities create an energy that feels almost theatrical, elegant, articulate, and wonderfully performed. Watching them trade dialogue often feels like sitting in the front row of a stage production.
There are also enjoyable supporting appearances from James Corden and Jessica Gunning, who bring light comedic chaos as a pair of siblings attempting to scam their own father. Their scenes add a welcome dose of mischief to the story.
Production
Behind the camera, Steven Soderbergh keeps things deliberately minimal. The film is set in London, and while we do get the occasional street shot, the majority of the action unfolds inside a single house. Rather than relying on visual spectacle, Soderbergh leans into the performances and dialogue.
It’s a choice that works surprisingly well. The house essentially becomes the film’s stage, reinforcing that theatrical feeling created by the performances.
The writing focuses heavily on the characters’ journey from planning a scam to gradually discovering unexpected common ground. Instead of flashy set pieces, the film invests in conversation, personality, and emotional nuance.
Review
At its core, The Christophers is a small film with a big personality. The story isn’t trying to reinvent cinema, it’s more interested in exploring people: their egos, insecurities, and the strange ways friendship can form.
The narrative flows from scam-planning mischief into something warmer and more reflective. As Julian and Lori circle each other with sarcasm and skepticism, the film slowly reveals its deeper themes about morality, greed, and the need to feel valued even when the world has moved on without you.
The charm comes from its intimacy. This isn’t a loud film… it’s a clever, conversational one. The dialogue sparkles, the performances shine, and the quieter moments carry surprising emotional weight.
And while the film certainly has its share of mischievous humour, it ultimately lands on something rather sweet: a reminder that connection can appear in the most unlikely partnerships.
In short, The Christophers is cute, thoughtful, and quietly funny, a character-driven story elevated by two exceptional performances and a script that knows when to be sharp and when to be sincere.
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