Book Club: The Next Chapter

The story is kind of shaggy... it's not well-plotted, there's not enough meat on the story to hold it all together and make it memorable.

It’s the kind of film that exists for the sole purpose of entertainment, which it provides consistently.

Much like the first film, Book Club: The Next Chapter is another easygoing lark that does zero that’s unexpected yet still generates just enough genuine laughter to make its sitcom-level simplicity bearable.

What do you get when you put three Academy Award winners in a movie that has almost no plot and just a skerrick of a script?

What should be an empowering big screen moment for a female ensemble cast whose average age is 77 is sadly let down by the lazy, by-the-book script.

This one’s more of a mindless beach read than a Pulitzer Prize–winning page-turner.

Feel-good exercise in mush.

Because the story is so weak and the production so uninspired, this attempt at a whimsical wedding adventure has only the four stars to keep it from being a total waste.

The film can be enjoyed as an utterly delightful travelogue. The story is as thin as a shaved white truffle. The message is to take advantage of a joyous opportunity when it presents itself. Romantic Italy lends an aura of enchantment to the proceedings.

Perhaps the best thing that can be said about Book Club: The Next Chapter is that there’s nary a Tom Brady in sight.