Michelle Pfeiffer delivers an Oscar-worthy performance as a delectably despicable Manhattan socialite in this surreal, Wes Anderson-esque social farce that will either leave you laughing or crying – or both.

Frances (Pfeiffer) is 60-years-old and now unexpectedly penniless after depleting the vast inheritance left behind by her husband, who died 12 years ago, and whose corpse she left to rot for several days while taking a ski vacation before reporting it to authorities.

Upset that she hasn’t died before the inheritance ran out, she cashes in the last of her possessions and hops on a cruise ship to France, resolved to live out her twilight days anonymously in a Paris apartment borrowed from one of her few true friends. But she’s not alone: along for the trip is her aimless son (Lucas Hedges), a cat named Small Frank (who may or may not embody the soul of her dead husband), as well as an assortment of other oddball characters she meets along the way.

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