Great Dictator, The (1940)

The Great Dictator begins with a note telling us that any resemblance between Hynkel the Dictator and the Jewish Barber is purely coincidental. Is this supposed to be a joke, or is it Charlie Chaplin’s way of separating his comic persona from Adolf Hitler? Chaplin, a world recognized celebrity since the nineteen-teens, was arguably the most popular man in the world when Hitler took power in Germany in 1933. It is said the dictator crafted his mustache after Chapin’s Little Tramp to feed off of the comedian’s popularity. Was it also a coincidence that Chaplin retired his Tramp persona in 1936’s Modern Times?

Charlie Chaplin’s most daring film takes place in a fictionalized version of Germany called Tomainia. In a prologue set in 1918, years before Adenoid Hynkel takes power, a bewildered Jewish Barber is thrown into WWI and suffers a severe injury that keeps him in hospital until WWII. Chaplin plays the Barber and, of course, the dictator, giving credence to the fact that the opening note may be a lighthearted wink to the audience who, in 1940, would recognize Chaplin anywhere. But The Great Dictator is an unusual comedy, something more sinister for it satirizes one of the darkest memories of world history. The Barber escapes, eager to return to his beloved shop just as the Tomainian storm troopers begin severe persecution of the ghettos. The Barber meets Hannah, a Jewish girl, who assists in fending off the storm troopers. This is one of the many scenes that are laugh out funny but exist with an undercurrent of dread, panic, and sickness because the true events, 70 years later, fueled further by modern examples of bigotry, are no less painful. Perhaps because WWII exists so vividly in motion images the horrors will never fade.

The Great Dictator contrasts the experiences of Hynkel and the Barber during changing times; for the dictator, changes towards perfection; for the Barber, a disintegration of everything he understands.

The film’s most famous scenes give us a stark contrast to both of Chaplin’s characters, and stand as perhaps the greatest examples of Chaplin’s dedication to rehearsal and perfectionism—in short, to his craft. The first is the chilling, beautiful and bizarre dance Hynkel performs with a feather-light globe of the world. His Ministry of the Interior, Garbitsch, informs him that with their new plans Hynkel will become Emperor of the World, a thought that sends the ruthless dictator up the wall, literally. He dances to the music of Wagner, incidentally Hitler’s favorite composer. It is the opening to his Lohengrin, a light, airy but pretentious piece of music. Chaplin’s moves are narcissistic and bold, graceful but futile. In trying to juggle the world, cradle it, domineer it, Hynkel pops his globe and is left with a deflated, impotent piece of rubber. The Jewish Barber then shaves a man to Brahms’ Hungarian Dance No. 5. Here Chaplin’s Barber is a cousin to his famous Tramp. The Barber lathers the man’s face, takes his blade, sharpens it, and with perfectly precise motions hits every note of Brahms’ innocent, frenetic music.

It is interesting that with all of Hynkel’s ambition, his contribution to the world ends with a deflated balloon—a waste for someone who, like Hitler, had the brilliance to muster the masses for a common goal. The simple Barber, with the mere shaving of a man, enriches the world with his craft. The choice of music, too, shows Chaplin as a Renaissance Man and as someone who, despite preferring silent films, was keen on using every element of sound to make his point: Hynkel is marked with heavy, pretentious music, the Barber with humane culture.

Chaplin’s craft belongs to an era of silent film comedy. In both sequences, silent except for the music, we can witness the skill and precision of Chaplin’s art. He was not improvisational as many might hope; someone who could simply step in front of a camera and command it. He rehearsed. The choreography, the timing to the music, is such that we know that music was prerecorded, and that Chaplin would go from beginning to end mastering every gesture, would perfect difficult tasks like spinning a ball on his fingertip, scaling a tabletop with grace, and memorizing not only the music, but the particular performance of the music so that his impact is striking. This is not something that can be achieved in post production. Like Fred Astaire, Chaplin is seen often in medium or long shot, and the camera simply stays on him and we see his performance with minimal cuts, and in the case of the shaving sequence, arguably more awe-inspiring, one continuous shot. Among other things it allows us to lament the loss of great talent when we view our contemporary movie comedians. Chaplin understood that moviemaking was not spontaneous but the result of dedication, obsession, and doing and doing again.

It is difficult to look at the realities of the Nazi’s activities, but Hitler himself, someone who was so serious and seemed to lack humility, is prone to satire. It is one of the purposes of art to critique the world, and the powerful who control it, and to create for the public a better world. Chaplin does all this, and that he managed to create his epic in 1940, in Hollywood, after a war and great depression, with political tensions high and politicians eager to prosecute anyone who would contradict their ideology, is a testament to his popularity and socio-political awareness. He often resembles Hitler perfectly, no more so than when wearing the double-cross trench coat, and his inflections and diction when speaking his Tomainian gibberish remind me of Hitler’s great speeches in Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will. That Chaplin is a great comedian only helps him further, but the scenes with the Jewish Barber in the Ghettos were not so funny. Yes they were, but I felt sick watching them. We know what went on there, what would happen if the Nazis arrested anyone for any reason, where they’d end up. I don’t think it was inappropriate for Chaplin to make this film. The subject should not be off limits. My great admiration from the director stems from the fact that his films are often sad. They’re filled with pathos and meaning and have relevance to our society. In The Great Dictator, there are numerous scenes of the people hiding in the Ghettos, afraid and angry. I could imagine the real life scenarios like this, and unlike in Chaplin’s film things would not turn out so well.

Much has been made of the film’s controversial ending. It was Chaplin’s Jewish Barber’s speech to the soldiers of Tomainia that got him a file at the FBI; the Barber, mistaken for Hinkel, is to make a speech about the recent invasion of Osterlich. While facing the podium, unlike Hinkel whose words were so brutish that they’d bend the microphones, the Barber pleads for peace, preaches against greed and intolerance, and offers all those listening an opportunity for change. This speech, some 6 minutes long, is a stark difference to the rest of the picture. I think it’s a great ending, something that caps Chaplin’s political satire and offers hope where in real life at that time there seemed very little.

I will say no more to add to these discussions. I’d rather examine the film’s beginning. I don’t think it works. It’s not funny and feels like a separate piece to the rest of the film. We see the Barber fighting in WWI, how he becomes injured. In fact this prologue serves the narrative later as here he befriends a soldier who will become prominent in Hinkel’s Tomainia, but the sequence feels more like a one-reeler Chaplin might have made early in his career. And indeed did make in the 1920s. The comedy is broad and general, the effects small and unprofessional, and it throws off the structure of the film. It also seems remarkably unprofessional, as if it was an afterthought thrown in after the rest of the picture was cut together. We don’t see Hinkel’s rise to power, and seeing the Barber’s, I feel, gets the film off to a slow start.

There is a reason Chaplin is considered the greatest screen comedian of the 20^th Century. His films stood for something more than broad physical comedy. They have touching stories, and his images often contained gaiety and gravitas. With The Great Dictator, a boldly political work, he risked offending the dictators of the world when instead he could have made a film about Napoleon. At the time, many of Hitler’s “great” military accomplishments were still ahead of him, and the US had not officially entered the war, and Chaplin, sensing as much of the world probably did, what was about to happen, decided to do something about it.

Great Dictator, The (1940)

Director: Charlie Chaplin

Writer: Charlie Chaplin

Stars: Charlie Chaplin, Paulette Goddard, and Jack Oakie

USA

In English

Runtime: 124 minutes

IMDB link:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0032553/

Stolen Kisses (1968, Baisers volés)

It is said that the average person will change professions several times in his life. There may be many reasons for change, but it is sad when one’s own character prevents him from charting a course and sticking to it. Antoine Doinel, the hero of The 400 Blows, has not quite grown up. Let me rephrase that: Antoine and his environment are changing at different speeds. When once Antoine’s insolence was charming, as an adult it is clear he may never find his way. But is that as sad as I think? In between his gigs as a soldier, a concierge, a detective, a stock boy in a shoe store and a television repair man (I think I’ve got them all) there is always love, sweet, impulsive love. In this regard Antoine will never age.

François Truffaut’s major preoccupation was romantic longing. We see it in every one of his pictures: Two English Girls and A Woman Next Door are both about obsession; in The Bride Wore Black love manifests itself as revenge for a lost love; Fahrenheit 451 details the love of books, and The 400 Blows was the love of childhood, of cinema, of friendship and liberty, all also themes in Truffaut’s work. In Stolen Kisses his themes clash in ways the director might never had hoped for. In the summer of ‘68, France experienced a revolution begun by students fed up with poor conditions in state-run universities. Riots and demonstrations (often one and the same) shut down industries; unions joined in the students’ struggles, and when the government appointed a new director for The Cinematheque Francais, ousting founder Henri Langlois, filmmakers joined in.

Langlois was one of the two most important people in Truffaut’s upbringing, along with Andre Bazin, film theorist and co-founder of Cashiers du cinema, the underground film magazine that Truffaut wrote for as a critic. Langlois, apart from single handedly preserving films that otherwise would no longer exist, gave Truffaut the opportunity to see films that no longer circulated in popular movie houses, and through Langlois, Truffaut and the entire Cashiers crowd gained their excessive love and knowledge of the history of their craft. Truffaut was so upset over Henri Langlois’ firing that he formed the Cinema Defense Foundation, an organization determined to give control of the Cinematheque back to its founder. The director supposedly made phone calls for donations in between takes on the set of Stolen Kisses.

For all of it though the film is mostly apolitical. If one does not research the topic it wouldn’t make a lick of difference when watching the film. Sure Truffaut opens the film with a shot unrelated to the story, the sad image of the French Cinematheque closed to the public (and he also dedicates the film to Langlois), but he does not address any riots, in fact completely ignores the plight of the students, a cause he championed in his private life. The reason for this is simple: he was not a political filmmaker, though it makes the words of Jean-Luc Godard at the 1968 Cannes Festival both ironic and searing, accusing himself and all filmmakers presenting that year that they were behind the times since no film detailed contemporary France, the struggle between the students and the extreme right-wing government. Is this a fault of Truffaut’s or merely something that proves him as a true auteur? I’m inclined towards the latter since I myself detest politics in films. Truffaut was more interested in the arts and humanity, in love and romance and friendship. Life should not stop because of political upheaval, instead this upheaval is a part of our lives, and we should live and rally against the opposition.

In this regard, Stolen Kisses as a movie is not one of Truffaut’s best pictures. There’s nothing wrong with it per se, but it is too improvisational; that is there exists a free-wielding structure that can be great in another movie but here it left me... not bored but ambivalent towards the screen. I hope that makes sense. Watching it in action the film moves as briskly as anything Truffaut made and it’s filled with beautiful, touching moments, but it lacked the earnestness of The 400 Blows, the film that gave us Antoine Doinel. Maybe I shouldn’t be comparing the two films. They are quite different.

Here Antoine is becoming a man. He (like Truffaut did) receives a dishonorable discharge after volunteering for the service. The man dismissing him wonders why he volunteered; speculates it was to impress a woman, but we soon learn the truth: Antoine read a book about the service and his experiences in the army merely did not match it. This is the problem with Antoine as he gets older. I may be biased since personally I’m not prone to risky, hasty decisions, but the older he gets the less “cute” his misadventures seem. He doesn’t seem to understand that the years will go by whether or not his romantic fantasies are indulged, and in trying to live as he thinks he should he is forgetting to live. But that is not right—this is my own attitude talking. Antoine lives an exciting, experience-laden life. His many professions allow him to sample a whole universe set up by tradition and necessity. He is constantly working, obviously, making enough money to keep an apartment (and certainly doing better than an old school friend he meets on the streets who rummages through trash—perhaps a dig at the government for failing its youth).

Jean-Pierre Léaud reprises the famous role. This man was a conduit of the New Wave. I get the feeling that we, the audience, have never known the true Léaud. Truffaut used him to express his own flighty moods and Godard used him as an anarchic symbol, another extension of someone else, and through it all Léaud let himself be shaped. He is a true chameleon, a divisive actor whose improvisation style never seems to be wrong. He always fits his films, even when he stands out. I can admit though to finding him pretentious sometimes, though seldom with Truffaut. Throughout the Doinel films he doesn’t shape an arch for the character. He simply performs the role as Truffaut wrote it, experiencing life as Antoine has in Truffaut’s script. This relaxed attitude towards his craft (and least that’s how it appears to me) is fascinating, and proves that movie acting is about having spirit and knowing lines, and very little complexity.

Stolen Kisses is Léaud and Truffaut’s lighthearted take on the growing adventures of Antoine Doinel. He is no longer the lost kid we first knew. He is a young man, making his way in the world and constantly lost in it through a free-wielding spirit in search of love. I along with millions of people since 1959 have adopted Antoine as a friend, a son, a spiritual partner, and care about him deeply. I guess ultimately I found Stolen Kisses somewhat melancholic; that Antoine cannot keep a job and moves with the wind does not speak well for his future endeavors.

Stolen Kisses (1968)

(a.k.a. Baisers volés)

Director: Francois Truffaut

Writers: Francois Truffaut, Claude de Givray

Stars: Jean-Pierre Leaud, Claude Jade and Delphine Seyring

France

In French

Runtime: 90 minutes

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0062695/

Antoine and Colette (1962, Antoine et Colette)

There is a perverse pleasure in falling love, in watching someone you’re attracted to from afar, forever inching yourself closer, anxious and scared of if or when you’ll say something. And when you finally do, you’re intimidated and excited. There is also a love for the cinema, a love possibly more infectious, without limits, for young love is seldom ever permanent, and almost always sours.

Antoine Doinel returns in a short film François Truffaut made as part of the omnibus picture, Love at 20. Doinel’s segment, Antoine and Colette, shows what might be the hero of The 400 Blows’ first romance, one that begins as we might expect from the once troubled teen. He and his friend René are at a youth concert, and Antoine sees a beautiful modern girl sitting with a girlfriend. He watches her, is as absorbed in her looks as the listeners are to their classical music. He follows her out but does not engage. He sees her again three times that week, and finally on their fifth encounter, he speaks to her.

Truffaut is the most infectious and loveable director I’ve yet discovered. He crafts intimate tales of amour, stories that range from innocent, to obsessive, perverse, and comical. In Antoine and Colette he mixes all his elements into one of his most pleasurable experiences. While a short and therefore better equipped to be tidy and fluid, there is a sharp earnestness to the director’s storytelling, sometimes relying on an off-screen narrator to simplify narrative montages (telling us Colette sees Antoine as a friend) and swift, unexpected but incredibly honest changes in his characters’ character and actions. For example, Antoine soon takes an apartment across the street from Colette’s. For a moment, if that, it seems cute and innocent, but it really is a creepy thing for anyone to do; to pack up and live next to the person you’re courting. It is obsessive, insecure behavior, in line with the upbringing we’ve seen of Antoine in The 400 Blows. The perverse nature is Colette’s rejection of Antoine, leading him on, maybe unintentionally, and confirming what he seems to understand during a after dinner soirée at Colette’s parents’ request. Colette brings her new love in, embarrassing her mother and crushing Antoine. This love does not end well, but throughout it all we feel the energy of Truffaut, that untouchable magic he infuses his movies with.

This bittersweet tale gets its lighter moments in Truffaut’s storytelling. For example, Antoine works at a record manufacturer. Why? No reason; it is an interesting and appropriate profession for a young man of Paris in the 1960s. There is a fabulous short scene showing Antoine pressing his first record, a gift he later makes to Colette. This is so charming, so carefree, and a gimmick unique to the cinema. I believe in most other mediums such a progression of narrative would seem cheeky, but it works here. Or, for another whimsical twist, try Antoine and Colette’s parents’ relationship. Love is not always sexual. Affection can exist for someone whom you feel in sympathy with, someone whose look moves you in profound ways. The narrator says that the parents “adopt” Antoine as Colette becomes scarce to them all. To change the focus of the story from the young couple to the young man and the parents is a sweet twist, one I loved to see considering how uninterested we know Antoine’s parents were. The final shot is quite rewarding, the odd family sitting down to watch television.

So Antoine has found love, a love more fundamental. He has gained parents, and with that the dignity of having two people to rely on. This is the second chapter in a series of films starring Jean-Pierre Léaud as Antoine Doinel, and like the whole of Truffaut’s work, these films are pure pleasure—whimsical and spontaneous living creatures. They remind me of why the cinema is my true love.

Antoine and Colette (1962)
(a.k.a. Antoine et Colette)
Director: Francois Truffaut
Writer: Francois Truffaut
Stars: Jean-Pierre Leaud, Marie-France Pisier, Rosy Varte and Patrick Auffay
France
In French
Runtime: 31 minutes

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1180329/

Criterion has released Antoine and Colette only as part of their terrific collection, "The Adventures of Antoine Doinel." It shares the same disc as The 400 Blows, but remember while Criterion has issued several different editions of The 400 Blows, including a Blu-ray, the edition available in the box set is the only one containing the short film. Antoine and Colette was released with another Truffaut short, Les mistons, by Fox Lorber a decade ago, probably with sub par image quality, but the disc is easily affordable via the Amazon links below:

My Man Godfrey (1936)

It’s very easy to tell when a film was made in 1930’s Hollywood.  Stylistically the lighting is very flat, the camera movement is limited, mainly photographed in long or medium shots to give the feeling of a play, and the characters are dressed in the latest fashions, so sheik for their time that today they stand out.  Also these films, less so as the decade went on, contain searing social commentary.  This is an adequate distillation of My Man Godfrey, a beloved screwball comedy more in the tradition of drama, though the characters are oddballs and the women speak at a mile a minute.

Godfrey is a “forgotten man”, one of the homeless living in New York Dump 32.  One night a group of society people come to him asking for his help for their scavenger hunt.  You see, the two women need a forgotten man to come back to a posh hotel for them to win the game.  As Irene Bullock, played by Carole Lombard, notes, one does not win a prize but merely the honor of winning.  Godfrey ruthlessly turns down Irene’s sister Cornelia, someone whose very name describes her witchy snobbery, but he helps out the friendlier and perhaps more naive Irene.  He wins her the game and she feels so indebted to him that she gives him the job of the Bullock family’s new butler.

The high jinks or at least the narrative takes off from here, but My Man Godfrey is seldom laugh-out-loud funny.  Most of the comedy comes from how out of touch the Bullock women are, and there are some genuine laughs.  But the film feels more like a depression-era fable, about a spoilt heir (spoiler—Godfrey) giving up wealth to communicate with the downtrodden, finding with those who struggle a kinship and honesty.  It is easy to see why when looking, say, at Irene’s mother Angelica; she keeps a protégé called Carlo who is nothing more than a freeloader, accepting insults from Mr. Bullock as long as he does not have to work for money.  In fact the very word causes him pain.  Angelica, or Mrs. Bullock, is a daffy, clueless woman who does not take into consideration how much money their family wastes, or that her husband constantly tries to mention his business troubles.  This talk upsets poor Carlo.

I will again admit to a bias against comedies.  I simply prefer dramas, but the screwball genre is interesting.  My textbook example is His Girl Friday, which is one of my favorite films.  That film is wall to wall laughs, and it gave me the impression that screwball comedies are farce and quick gags.  An online search regarding the genre informed me that it really is indefinable.  I like “Sex comedy without the sex”, as defined by critic Andrew Sarris.  The few screwball comedies I remember involve courtship, usually the woman directly vying for the love of the handsome, befuddled man.  They are innocent fun steeped in the moral traditions of another era.  In fact, at one point My Man Godfrey played more like an early 1900s piece than a more modern and less moralistic 1930s.  The 1930s of course were a very controversial time for American film, with censorship becoming a reality by 1934.  That the film is less comedic is not a fault of the picture.  As far as it goes in screwball territory it succeeds, but the film is about the carelessness of the idle rich.

William Powell’s Godfrey seems most out of place in a screwball comedy.  I think it is his character that blurs the lines of genre.  He is world-weary and so sure of himself.  He minds the social hierarchy and is careful to remain distant but compliant with the at-odds Bullock sisters.  Irene loves him and Cornelia is after revenge for his initial snub.  Godfrey, as he says to an old friend, was not equipped to handle struggle in life.  His rich upbringing left him child-like.  The adult world disillusioned him.  The film feels at times something like a Frank Capra film, or Make Way for Tomorrow, with its biting sociopolitical observations.  I have to say Godfrey’s character distracted me a bit.  Not only is he never meant to be funny, his character seems above the film, as if he merely watches the Bullocks and judges them.  This is in fact what Godfrey does, but as such he belongs in another film.  Cary Grant never played a screwball character like this.  He was often the male lead and he was always as sharp and odd as the women he was up against—Katharine Hepburn, Rosalind Russle and Irene Dunne.  The fault is not Carole Lombard who is very good here; nor is it actor William Powell, but Godfrey’s.

There is nothing wrong with the film.  I suppose I liked it.  It held my attention totally from the fascinating opening titles sequence, but I must admit I was underwhelmed.  The story was not exactly predictable but the scenarios and resolution were not surprising.  That didn’t bother me, though.  What saves the film is the talent.  Carole Lombard does some of her finer work here, maybe because her character is more interesting than some of her other roles.  Irene is a girl who knows what she wants and can’t accept or understand why her feelings can’t be met by others, in this case Godfrey.  She is so good that I think a great compliment to her is that I recognized where Lucille Ball got her comic persona.  Alice Brady plays Mrs. Bullock and steals the show.

Perhaps I need to devour more screwball comedies in order to appreciate My Man Godfrey more.  I haven’t seen enough even for my own liking.  I don’t know if it’s necessary because I did have a reaction to the picture, a lukewarm one, but because the film exists in a time and genre that makes it an historical piece of work—a definitive 1930s screwball comedy—a wider understanding of the niche genre might broaden its appeal.

My Man Godfrey (1936)

Director: Gregory La Cava

Writers: Eric Hatch and Morrie Ryskind
Original novel by Eric Hatch

Stars: William Powell, Carole Lombard and Alice Brady

USA

In English

Runtime: 94 minutes

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0028010/

 

My Man Godfrey is available for free viewing at The Internet Archive:
http://www.archive.org/details/MyManGodfrey1936

Potiche (2010)

She is the queen of kitchen appliances.  She is Catherine Deneuve in François Ozon’s new Potiche.  Deneuve plays Suzanne, the spoiled wife of Robert, the CEO of her dead father’s umbrella factory.  She has a beautiful house, gorgeous clothes, servants, two beautiful kids, and she gives to Robert something which justifies her existence: status.  She is a trophy wife.

Potiche is set in 1977, a fact Ozon revels in.  The fashion, the cars, the color palette all point to satire, but the look is so thick and wonderful that we may as well be watching a documentary.  The umbrella factory is threatened by strike, and the stress gives poor, unsympathetic Robert a near heart attack.  With a pacifist, anti-capitalist son, Laurent, and an inexperienced daughter, Nadège, it is decided that Suzanne takes over negotiations with the workers.  Thus this trophy wife takes her first step into the modern 70s.

The film is a feminist love song.  I am a feminist.  But Potiche is very superficial about politics.  The film gives women the opportunity to work outside the home, and though Suzanne proves to be brilliant in her position we are never shown any of her savvy.  The company is turned around in a cut!  This is the feel of the film; it supports the energy Ozon infuses.  Potiche is a kind of French fairytale.  Suzanne is granted things and they are taken away.  It is French because, while the politics are fluffy, the film has great insight into its characters.  Suzanne, unbeknownst to everybody, has in the past had numerous discreet affairs, just like her husband.  The only difference is that Robert is out in the world and his sex is already free.  Suzanne knows a housewife’s place and knows how to play the game and win.  After her husband and daughter coldly take back the umbrella factory, Suzanne is dissatisfied with her life again and decides to run for MP, a political office.  Here she is allowed to be active in her liberation, but like her handling of the factory Ozon goes little in depth on her campaigning.  She visits local shops for photo ops and that’s just about it.  Suzanne triumphs and never breaks a sweat.

In a way Potiche is immune to criticism.  It is perfect style, high energy, it’s very funny and has the right side of the argument, or at least a liberated side—I can only speak for my politics.  What else can I say?  I enjoyed myself.  There, that’s it, except for a trend I’ve noticed with its leading lady.

Catherine Deneuve has nothing to prove.  She has made herself an icon with a terrific body of work spanning 60 years.  However, I’ve noticed a kind of lull in her recent work going back 10 or 15 years.  It’s similar to the first period of her career.  At the beginning her onscreen persona lacked dramatic weight, held back possibly by her delicacy and beauty.  It wasn’t until her defining work with Buñuel, and to a lesser extent Polanski, that Deneuve showed her range.  Truffaut brought her to the brink.  In the 90s and 2000s she’s been very productive but stuck in a similar mood as her earliest performances.  Perhaps she is too big an icon, a legend, for the directors who work with her, and her roles, not her acting, lack depth or resonance.  She is always perfect, but in a way the material doesn’t seem up to her.  Her most diverse role in recent memory was in Gaël Morel’s Apers lui, which was itself an average film.  François Ozon has used Deneuve before, and both of their films together play more like stylized film tributes than serious works of cinema.  In Potiche, I don’t think the homage of having Deneuve running an umbrella factory is lost on the director.  Though the film is a further opportunity for Deneuve to play satire, Suzanne’s depth is all on the surface.  She fits in perfectly in this charming, fun film, but I hope before too long a director, even Ozon, will take advantage of the Deneuve we’ve seen in The Last Metro.

I guess what I’m talking about is serious drama.  I should confess a bias against comedies, though more and more I’m finding ones that actually work.  I just need to avoid Judd Apatow.  But it seems that satire has become the new dramatic oomph, and I need to accept it.  But there is one story arc in Potiche that I found fascinating.

Laurent, Suzanne’s son, goes through a subtle change.  I may be the only one who’s caught it because it might only exist in my mind, but his story adds a subtext speaking more generally to the lack of liberty for parents.  The first we hear of Laurent, Suzanne tells her husband that their son is bringing home a girlfriend, the baker’s daughter.  Robert is unhappy.  At first he admits to snobbery until Suzanne presses him.  He confesses the girl may very well be his own illegitimate child—Laurent may be dating his sister!  Laurent is devoted to his mom and she loves him dearly.  She hires him as an umbrella designer and here I noticed a shift in his look.  He looked incredibly, stereotypically gay, right down to the pink ascot.  When Suzanne runs for MP, we learn that Laurent has left his girlfriend to stick by the most important woman in his life—Suzanne.  Suspicious enough.  They both then note a handsome blonde kid handing out flyers for Suzanne’s campaign.  He is the son of one of Suzanne’s ex-lovers.  Suzanne (figuratively) thinks he could be her own son considering the timing of her relations with his dad.  I think Laurent has come out, and the blonde kid is his boyfriend.  Laurent gives him very intimate looks but nothing is said.  The trap that this lays for parents is that it offers little leeway in discretion.  By the acts of both his parents, Laurent might, in either relationship, be dating his sibling.  It’s something funny for me to note, though insubstantial to the film itself.

I hope this doesn’t read like a mixed review.  I enjoyed this film—I carried a smile all the way through.  Though it may feel lite, it is fun and the actors are terrific.  I haven’t even mentioned the great Gerard Depardieu as the Mayor.  He has an interesting relationship to Suzanne and to Laurent, and just to see Deneuve and Depardieu on screen together again is worth it.

Potiche (2010)

Director: Francois Ozon

Writers: Pierre Barillet (play), Jean-Pierre Gredy (play) and Francois Ozon

Stars: Catherine Deneuve, Gerard Depardieu, Fabrice Luchini and Jeremie Renier

France

In French

Runtime: 103 minutes

Potiche is currently playing in select cities across the US.  Check it out if it comes to your region.  It is currently available on Blu-ray and DVD in Europe via Amazon (France):

http://www.amazon.fr/gp/product/B004FQC0B2/ref=s9_simh_gw_p74_d4_i1?pf_rd_m=A1X6FK5RDHNB96&pf_rd_s=center-3&pf_rd_r=02V RJPT6CAA7BD2CY7BB&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=463375573&pf_rd_i=405320

(beware that the Blu-ray is region 'B' locked and does not feature English subtitles)

http://www.amazon.fr/Potiche-2-DVD-Catherine-Deneuve/dp/B004FQC09O/ref=sr_1_1?s=dvd&ie=UTF8&qid=1303709485&sr=1-1

(also without English subtitles)

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1521848/

8 Women (2002, 8 femmes)

Catherine Deneuve is a film icon.  She has worked with some of the best filmmakers of all time, past and present, and to see her alongside other great French actresses in 8 Women is a pleasure unto itself.  That the film is fun is an added bonus.

8 women are stranded at a snowed in mansion with a dead body in an upstairs bedroom.  The victim is Marcel, who we never see, Deneuve’s Gaby’s husband.  Their oldest daughter Suzon arrives home from college the day her father’s corpse is discovered.  She tries to piece together the last few hours of these very catty, very different women to solve the horrible murder of her father.  That the murderer might be someone she loves is a consolation of sorts.

There’s Mamy, her elderly grandma, played by Danielle Darrieux, an icon of French cinema going back to the 1930s (did I mention 8 Women was made in 2002?).  Mamy is wheelchair bound, and out of charity Marcel and Gaby had taken in her and Augustine, her unmarried, frumpish daughter, Gaby’s jealous sister.  Another French icon—Isabelle Huppert, muse to Claude Chabrol.  The sexy new maid, Louise, may have something to hide.  Emmanuelle Béart plays her.  Most innocent are Madame Chanel, the long time family cook and nanny to Suzon, and Catherine, Suzon’s kid sister.  Catherine is into mystery novels, something her Aunt Augustine doesn’t approve of.  She’s played by Ludiving Sagnier, a gifted young actress whose talents have been employed by Chabrol and Christophe Honoré.  This is an accomplished cast.

But wait—that’s only 7 women.  Marcel’s estranged sister Pierrette arrives looking for the brother she knows is dead.  Pierrette is played by the last of François Truffaut’s famous leading lady lovers, Fanny Ardant.  Perhaps because of Truffaut’s untimely death in 1984, Ardant never got the attention she deserved as an actress, but in Confidentially Yours, Truffaut’s final film, her work in that genre comedy stands up to Jeanne Moreau’s or Catherine Deneuve’s.  Deneuve was Truffaut’s lover in the late 70s, early 80s, and it is suggested that Truffaut had a breakdown when the actress left him.  Ardant was the one who restored his spirits, or so legend goes.  This gossip isn’t really relevant, but it’s in the spirit of 8 Women.  Director François Ozon must have understood the history he was bringing together by uniting Deneuve and Ardant on screen, especially in a dishy cat-fight of a picture.  This back story doesn’t interfere with the film.  But looking at the amazing cast that spans the whole history of French cinema—from poetic realism in the 30s to the 50s films of Max Ophuls, the New Wave and post-New Wave and beyond; 90’s cinema and today—I couldn’t help thinking of these facts.  8 Women is a fun film with style, brave, campy performances by its stars, and a great traditional mystery.  Getting lost in its actors is a complement.  A bad film with all these women would feel more gimmicky.

Gaby had kept her husband and his sister apart, or so she thought.  Nothing is what it seems in Ozon’s mystery musical.  That’s right, the film is a musical.  It’s kind of off-putting at first.  The opening shot, a wide pan along the grounds of the family mansion, looks intentionally phony.  The whole film looks like a 60s parody, down to the wigs and eye-popping color.  When Ludiving Sagnier sings the first number, in both her look and the choreography she reminded so much of Hayley Mills in The Parent Trap.  That must have been intentional.  The song, “Daddy, Daddy” You Ain’t with It”, sounds exactly like a song we would’ve got from a live action Disney film of the time.  What’s odd about the music is how Ozon stages it in context to the film.  There are 8 songs, and each one is a solo by the actresses.  They come off more as monologues; they don’t advance the story at all.  One could make the case that they hold up the picture, but not I.  The songs give us information into the respective character.  For example, when Isabelle Huppert sings, we learn her neurotic tendencies that often hurt her sister are in part to spare Gaby’s feelings.  Deneuve’s own song is very odd, and it leads to her and Ardant making out on the floor of the grand hall.  I never expected to see something like this in a movie.  What can I say?  It’s fun to look at.

The mystery in the film is old-fashioned fun.  There’s nothing original.  You have the self-appointed Poirot character, the nosy detective who forgets to cast a light into her own mysterious comings and goings, a wife who stands to gain an inheritance, jealous relatives and a sexy, dangerous sibling.  The hired help has run of the house so they’re suspect too.  The isolated mansion, guard dogs that don’t bark, a key to a locked door that is stolen, transference of guilt—everything that makes a great mystery work.  The musical is a bit odd in this context, but as a movie that loves movies, a movie lover with eat this up.  The style, the cast, the music, the genre mishmash, and the cinematic history and tribute that becomes 8 Women guarantees its admiration from people like me.  I will remain light on the story development.  In this kind of picture every twist is more fun to discover while watching.

In her office, Gaby has a portrait of herself from when she was young.  The painting is a breathtaking likeness of Deneuve.  Looking at those sharp cheekbones I was reminded of images of her from Belle de jour, the era where Deneuve was exceptionally beautiful.  I thought momentarily of the sadness of aging.  Deneuve has done so gracefully, and when she’s on the floor with Ardant, there is a moment when she looks EXACTLY like her younger self.

8 Women is Ozon’s most successful picture.  I’ve never thought too highly of him as a director, maybe because he is better known in the US than Honoré, my contemporary favorite.  His films are always either too stylized or boring.  I think the genre, the grandiosity of the material, and the cast allows Ozon to revel in his indulgences.  I saw the preview of his newest film, Potiche, also starring Catherine Deneuve.  I’m seeing it next week, but already I am pleased to see this same pictorial style at play in his newest film.

8 Women (2002)

(a.k.a. 8 femmes)

Director: Francois Ozon

Writers: Robert Thomas (play), Francois Ozon and Marina de Van

Stars: Danielle Darrieux, Catherine Deneuve, Isabelle Huppert, Emmanuelle Beart, Fanny Ardant, Virginie Ledoyen, Ludivine Sagnier and Firmine Richard

France

In French

Runtime: 111 minutes

To purchase 8 Women, visit Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/8-Women-Fanny-Ardant/dp/B00007J5VT/ref=sr_1_1?s=dvd&ie=UTF8&qid=1303015572&sr=1-1

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0283832/

Cold Weather (2010)

Cris Lankenau has a funny way of walking.  He seems to be dragging his body, his floppy arms falling where they may, and he is uncomfortable and unsure with every step.  His character Doug in Aaron Katz’s newest masterpiece Cold Weather is perfect casting.  Lankenau has made only two feature films.  His previous film was Katz’s Quiet City, a beautiful and quirky love story between strangers.  Cold Weather is a beautiful story of friends and the mumblings of everyday life.

Doug is a college dropout now living with his sister, Gail.  He studied forensic science but has taken a job at an ice factory.  He makes best friends with Carlos, a part-time DJ and Trekkie and fellow factory worker.  Doug wants to be like Sherlock Holmes, and when his ex-girlfriend Rachel mysteriously goes missing, Doug and everybody he knows turns amateur sleuth.  Part of what is so great about Cold Weather is that the director is able to take these aimless figures and infuse their lives with so much meaning.  Doug is a loser.  Let’s face it.  His parents seem quietly disappointed in him; Doug knows it but remains steadfast in all his uncertain decisions.   But never once is he pathetic.  He’s absolutely loveable.  He is so focused and quirky and real that he is immediately enduring.  Some might be put off with Lankenau, though both times I saw the film there was plenty of laughter so this might be an incorrect guess.  Lankenau appears so mawkish and wimpy.  He is incredibly soft spoken and not a typical leading man.  He’s not even an everyman like Jimmy Stewart.  Cris Lankenau is this generation’s cinematic hero—awkward good looks, even temperament, an all around decent guy who never gets upset.  Perhaps he is the embodiment of mumblecore.

Every character in this film is as real as the person sitting next to you on the train and this is a terrific ensemble cast.  Raúl Castillo as Carlos has some great interplay with Lankenau’s character.  Carols isn’t a mindless worker shucking ice.  He’s a DJ who develops an interest in Sherlock Holmes.  A Latino character in the movies wouldn’t normally be a Star Trek fan, but Carlos can name every member of the show’s space crew and the respective actors.  He gushes as he admits that he got a signed 8x10 glossy at a convention.  It was absolutely charming to see his performance.  He disappears about ¾ into the picture unfortunately and I would have liked more of his character.  Gail, Doug’s sister, is terrific, and in fact this sibling relationship is the best thing about the movie.  They are not adversaries.  These are aging 20-somethings who understand that life is what you make of it.  They have conversations that do not advance the plot.  We get hints of history but the film never stops dead in its tracks so brother and sister can recall hackneyed stories of the past.  Trieste Kelly Dunn is brilliant as Gail.  She and Lankenau are superb together.

Above all Doug and Gail interact.  We see them on the roof splattering grapes on the ground below.  Doug pulls Gail out of work to watch the whales by bribing her with sandwiches.  They hang out together, play cards with Carols and Rachel, go dancing.  I hate to use this phrase again but they are real.  The mumblecore movement is built partially on improvisational dialogue that exists to show existence or experience between its characters.  Very little of the dialogue advances the story.  For example, when Doug and Gail are on a stakeout, he asks her a very personal question.  Does she have friends?  Since they’ve been living together he has never seen her hang out with anyone.  The film could have survived without this exchange.  It goes nowhere, and yet it is captivating.  A lesser film would have curtailed the static stakeout and picked up with the next bit of action, but Cold Weather is less concerned with telling a plot.  Katz knows enough to let his characters carry the picture without focus and he’s talented enough to make it interesting always.

He’s also something of a visual master.  As with his previous films and sort of against the mumblecore style, Katz knows how to compose shots to suggest inner emotion with the man-made landscape of Portland, Oregon.  Similar to John Ford’s westerns, Katz uses setting suns and telephone wires to aid his storytelling.  He gets some heart-wrenching imagery that really supports his character’s personalities and place in life.  He’s also not afraid to hold shots.  Early on there’s a scene of Doug and Gail eating sandwiches on the beach.  Nothing happens here; it’s a long shot, they’re in the foreground, the water behind them.  A gull circles around, and I was consciously thinking, ‘how great to be able to contemplate on what I am seeing.’  The purpose of art is to engage its audience, and to see an American film made in 2010 that gives its audience time to think is very promising.  Movies like this are proof that the cinema is not dead.

The music is terrific.  Composer Keegan DeWitt deserves an Academy Award nomination for his fun and brilliantly used music.  Film music needs to service the images more than it needs to be listenable.  While the music is fantastic on its own, it really creates a sweet and quirky mood that ties this material together.  There is not a fault with the picture.  The acting is terrific, so is the direction, and the story is rightly focused on its characters rather than the mystery that turns out to be not that big a deal.

That’s what’s so surprising about Cold Weather.  I keep forgetting about the mystery.  Even when Doug and Carlos search Rachel’s abandoned hotel room, the film is focused on the interplay of its characters.  Perhaps this is the case with every thriller, but in Cold Weather everything is natural and nothing artificial.  I said the mystery is not that big a deal and it really may not be.  Doug figures out his clues and is able to help his ex-girlfriend, but these scenes again are about the experience of being these people.  I don’t want to turn potential viewers off.  That the mystery is less important is why the film works so well.  There is suspense in the film, and the odd characters who conduct themselves as Holmes bring a twist to the material that only heightens the tension of some of the “chases”.  I actually cared about these characters, but never once did I expect them to get killed for their efforts.  In normal thrillers death is always a possibility, but Cold Weather knows that murder is an uncommon occurrence.  For every person that is killed, millions more go on living.  I was concerned that Doug would be caught snooping and be forced to give up his adventure.

I keep suggesting Cold Weather is a small film about character but the more I think of it, the film is aiming high.  Instead of artifice, Aaron Katz and his wonderful actors are more concerned with naturalism, and that they succeed makes it one of the more memorable independent films in recent years.  These characters may as well be our best friends, we know them so intimately.  The film gives us moments in their lives, moments a bad movie would dismiss because they lack vitriol and violence.  I sat through every scene in this film with a large grin across my face!  Great movies make me happy, and I was delirious at Cold Weather.

Cold Weather (2010)

Director: Aaron Katz

Writer: Aaron Katz

Stars: Cris Lankenau, Trieste Kelly Dunn and Raul Castillo

USA

In English

Runtime: 96 minutes

Cold Weather is currently playing in select theaters across the US.  It is currently available On Demand from Comcast and other service providers under "IFC In Theaters". The film should be released on DVD by IFC in the near future.

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1497874/

Folle embellie (2004, Wonderful Spell, The)

Most of us never consider the concept of freedom, but many, in the strangest of circumstances, have never been allowed to reach it.  Folle embellie applies the concept of freedom to the beginnings of the Nazi invasion of France in WWII.  It begins at an insane asylum as the first bombs drop.  The gate is opened and a few inmates wander out and join the world.  But the film creates an unintended paradox: by letting loose those who need serious help, are they really gaining freedom?

A family escapes from the asylum: Fernand, Alida, and their son Julien.  Julien is here by circumstance; his parents are patients, and he was born during their treatment.  The mother, Alida, suffers from anxiety, and she landed in an institution because she once wound up alone with a stranger and tried to kill him.  She is already “cured” and has only been staying on to keep Julien close to his father.  The way the family is introduced and how we first experience them is elusive and engaging.  We don’t know they’re related.  Fernand and Alida share a tense moment early on, but for a moment I thought Fernand was a doctor.  Julien seems like a hired hand caring for the horses.  When the three escape, Alida and Julien together, Fernand on his own, we don’t yet know their dynamic.  Only when, later on, they address each other as ‘mom’ or ‘husband’ do we understand.  Fernand is the sort who typically belongs in an asylum.  Possessing delusions of grandeur, he at times imagines he is head of a kingdom, as when he lifts a fallen tree and walks among the treetops, at other times the patriarch of a holy family, and at other times still he acts as a true leader of this wild group who wanders the French country side.  Jean-Pierre Léaud plays Fernand and though his performance comes off too strong at first, he is allowed some real moments of lucidity and depth.  He is also very funny, as when be banishes the uncouth Hélèna from their band.  The outcome of his authority isn’t so funny.  Hélèna hangs herself.

The director advocates freedom for all.  So do I.  Dominique Cabrera once had a summer job at an asylum where she heard of this story and argues that the film is a magical utopia for its characters.  While they do find physical freedom, the paradox seems to be that these people, each to a different extent, are trapped by their illness.  Can freedom be achieved for those who are mentally ill?  Perhaps I’m thinking more into this because of the WWII setting and the Nazis had a strict policy against the insane, but these characters cannot escape the fate of their condition.

Alida is a perfect example.  A fascinating character, she appears perfectly sane.  We at first don’t realize she has mental problems.  When she spends the night with the boater who is not her husband we see her panic, but this panic can be attributed to the situation.  Later the group of escapees finds refuge as farmhands.  Praised for her delicious panettone, Alida is asked at dinner to sing an Italian song.  Her anxiety sets in: instead of singing, she sabotages their efforts by admitting to her new employer that they have escaped from an asylum, and she insists they are not dangerous.  They are all let go.  By admitting the truth when the idea was not even hinted at by the employer, I make the case that Alida may not be capable of enjoying her freedom.  This is not a fault of the film.  There are great intellectual discussions to be had regarding Folle embellie.  After the fact the film is very engaging.

The trouble watching it is that the film is not terribly interesting.  While I was never bored, I kept waiting for the ending as these characters stumbled onto each new situation.  This is a road movie without wheels.  They first take the aid of a man with a boat, then they stumble onto an empty house.  In these scenes the group seems to have found happiness.  But then they have to leave and they go somewhere else.  I can’t claim the film fails dramatically.  Episodic films usually don’t appeal to me.  I find it hard to focus when a film constantly asks me to shift scenarios, even when we’re following the same characters.  On the flip side, many of my favorite films develop in short bursts, little stories like separate chapters in a book.  Something about the storytelling in Folle embellie did not tie together for me.  I was never really interested in what was going to happen next, though the photography is stunning and the performances so enjoyable that I stayed with it until the end.

Morgan Marinne as the son was by far the most impressive actor.  Perhaps his character was the most interesting.  I should accuse myself of dismissing everyone else because their characters were, to me, simply crazy and therefore there was nothing beyond the surface to look at, so this is another point in favor of the film.  Julien, the son, was fascinating, partly because Marinne is an intense young actor, but also because we know his father and mother and I kept wondering how he felt being their son.  Is he embarrassed?  Is he filled with fear of becoming like them?  Does he feel obligated to them because of their issues?  Does he resent them?  The film addresses all these questions, and in a way the center of the story falls on him and for that I was grateful.  But not even he can truly embrace freedom.  When his mother sabotages their future job security, when once Julien declared to his father that he will leave them and live for himself, Julien now follows his family out of the farm and into the unknown.

Perhaps Cabrera was consciously aware of the paradox she had created with this film.  Like the idea of freedom in Kieślowski’s Blue, freedom is presented in Folle embellie in a very curious way, least of all setting the film during France’s entry into WWII.  A lot depends on the ideas of the individuals watching the film.  Though it is nice to imagine that everybody can be free, I believe these characters are ill-equipped to handle it.  And while the structure of the film is intentionally aimless, I found myself mostly uninterested as the material unfolded.

Folle embellie (2004)

(a.k.a. Wonderful Spell, The)

Director: Dominique Cabrera

Writers: Dominique Cabrera, Antoine Montperrin

Stars: Jean-Pierre Léaud, Miou-Miou and Morgan Marinne

France

In French

Runtime: 110 minutes

The French DVD is OOP, but used copies can be found on Amazon (France):

http://www.amazon.fr/Folle-embellie-Miou-Miou/dp/B0007MYPEI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1301347318&sr=1-1

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0329088/

Kaboom (2010)

I am surprised at my reaction to the sci-fi comedy Kaboom.  The genre, the style, the personalities, the drugs, the frivolous sexual exploits; typically a film like this would leave me angry for wasting 80 minutes of my life but I’ve seen it twice now and it is fun.  Odd-ball nuts but a lot of fun.  It’s almost a waste to get into the plot.  It’s not brilliantly structured and part of me believes it’s a satirical piece of filmmaking. It’s too good to only be poorly written.

Smith is an 18 year old college freshman attracted to his hot straight roommate named Thor.  Smith’s best friend is Stella, and on the side Smith has terrific sex with a quirky girl named London.  All innocent fun… except for a reoccurring dream Smith has in which all the people he loves in life plus two girls he doesn’t even know invite him down a white corridor and through a door.  In life he meets one of the unknown girls and witnesses her death... but he was high at the time and doesn’t know what is real.  As his dream intensifies we arbitrarily gain new pieces of info in an effort to develop a nuclear holocaust plot that has deep roots in Smith’s past.  This is independent filmmaking at its most creative.  It crosses many genres and uses cheeky special effects simply to entertain its audience.  There’s nothing more to it.  This genre-hopping, eye-bugging exercise works exceptionally well because it focuses more on its characters’ sexual and carefree routines rather than the overarching story.  The filmmakers knew that character is where the fun is.

Kaboom is shot in vibrant color, so refreshingly stylish, and the human stereotypes are gleefully on display.  Smith is a cute twink who rebels against sexual labels.  He is “undeclared”, but his fashion sense is part emo and part young gay sheik so we know which team he plays for.  Thor, the straight guy, is a bronzed surfer who spouts out “dude” more than a bad 90s stereotype.  Satires are written with a high level of intelligence and know not to insult the stereotypes but really to expose them as falsehoods.  Case in point—Smith becomes the hero in an off-beat action flick where at best in standard Hollywood fare he would be the brunt of jokes.  Then there’s Stella, Smith’s pal, played by Haley Bennett.  I want to mention her by name because she is terrific.  Fresh, original, like no other movie lesbian I’ve seen in a teen comedy.  She has a quick delivery and an insightful pessimistic outlook with some great, funny dialogue.  The whole cast is good but Bennett is exceptional.  It’s the Thor’s of the film, the cool kids in high school who really can’t fit in outside their comfort zone, who get the ridicule.  Thor and his best friend Rex are portrayed as sexually unsophisticated misfits among the hip, multi-sexual experimentation.  This too may be a stereotype but they are redeemed because the film exists in a world where sexuality isn’t a weapon.  Thor is very friendly with Smith and is comfortable enough with him to try to perform auto fellatio in his presence.  I know how it sounds, but you have to see the movie.

However under all this is some truly frightening imagery, namely the black figures with animal heads who stalk Smith.  I had a very powerful reaction to seeing them, perhaps because they triggered a memory I had long forgotten.  At night as a kid, I would play a game with myself.  I would hide under the covers and imagine that there were dozens of people standing on the street outside my window.  I didn’t know who they were or why, but they were there.  Seeing these creatures in Kaboom I was reminded of how scared my game made me, and that fear heightened the impact of these scenes.  I think without this memory the images retain something of their ability to frighten.  Whether it was a direct influence, I think back to Kubrick’s The Shinning.  One of the most unsettling images in the entire film was a shot of a person in an animal costume performing oral sex on an ordinary-dressed man.  Perhaps it is a subconscious fear of bestiality that makes such images potent or perhaps this whole topic says more about me than Kaboom.

It may just be that I am the right audience for this film.  Older people will be less indulgent because the film’s sensibilities are aimed at my generation (maybe even a generation younger).  People who don’t believe in pansexuality might find the whole film absurd.  Which brings me to a contemporary movie trend I saw further exploited in Kaboom.  A lot of films by gay or questioning filmmakers have to detail the Kinsey scale.  Kinsey did his research in the 1940’s and though I’m sure it was accurate, it might be time for his surveys and research to be updated.  Nevertheless, I just find this revival of Kinsey interesting.  Whatever, I liked the movie.  Enough said.

Kaboom (2010)

Director: Gregg Araki

Writer: Gregg Araki

Stars: Haley Bennett, Thomas Dekker, Chris Zylka and Juno Temple

USA

In English

Runtime: 86 minutes

Kaboom will be released on DVD from IFC Films this May.  Pre-order now at Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004OBQDCK/ref=s9_simh_gw_p74_d0_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=06M0P0WXCM8SAEHEMJRP&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=470938631&pf_rd_i=507846

If you prefer Blu-ray, visit Amazon (France):

http://www.amazon.fr/Kaboom-Blu-ray-Thomas-Dekkler/dp/B004FK2MRA/ref=sr_1_2?s=dvd&ie=UTF8&qid=1300685627&sr=1-2

(beware the Blu-ray is Region B locked and French language subtitles are forced by the player!)

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1523483/

Heartbeats (2010, Amours imaginaires, Les)

Two beautiful 20-something French Canadians, best friends Marie and Francis, meet a mysterious young man called Nicolas who woos them both into believing either one has a chance of loving him.  Nicholas makes remarks and gestures to both, but is Nicholas into boys or girls?  The more Marie and Francis vie for Nico’s affections the more strained their friendship grows in Heartbeats, a special film.  The story is right out of an episode of “Will & Grace” and yet it has a passion and honesty missing in Hollywood romantic comedies.  There is a necessity and earnestness in writer / director / actor Xavier Dolan’s storytelling that is quite refreshing.  He focuses on one narrative idea and lingers painfully and playfully over the possibilities.  But it is not so much the story being told that is fascinating, it is the director’s style.  Part Jean-Luc Godard, part Quentin Tarantino, derivative of a bygone era of moviemaking and still overwhelmingly hypnotic, Dolan is one of the most promising young directors at only 23 years old.  A triple threat, I personally cannot wait to see what he does next.

Long passages are shot in crisp slow-motion, heightening the passions of this menage-a-trois.  Fashion is also on display.  Dolan and lead actress Monia Chokrin wear eye catching, vibrant clothes that seem fittingly anachronistic.  Dolan is credited with costumes as well.  This kid has a keen eye; every shot has meaning and intensity.  An angry wrestle on the forest leaves captures Francis and Marie’s flailing bodies; the tilt of a head or hand feels so punctuated as if made by gods on Mount Olympus.  Dolan lingers on these images that he deems worthy of scrutiny.  He is as assured as a filmmaker who has nothing to lose.  I saw Heartbeats during my first visit to New York City.  It was a Saturday night.  I will always associate the style, imagination, the unique qualities of this film with that great city with these same great qualities.  Classic orchestral music mixes with classic and contemporary pop songs furthering the feel of a modern vintage film.  Terrifically photographed post-coital scenes with Francis and Marie and their ever-changing men are bathed in one thick color.  Marie is red, Francis is green.  Already smitten with pretty boy Nico, both make embarrassing conversation with the men they’ve just shared their bodies with.  Marie sarcastically describes the act just finished as “engrossing” while Francis, when asked by his very handsome lover to describe his dream man, describes someone who looks nothing like the man in his bed.  Both scenes use music by Johann Sebastian Bach, pieces from the composer’s now-famous cello suites, some of the saddest, most profound music I’ve ever heard.  An Italian rendition of Cher’s 1966 song “Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)” performed by Dalida becomes the film’s anthem.  It is heard in moments when Marie and Francis make themselves beautiful for Nicholas.  Quite appropriate.

What I found most powerful in Dolan’s use of visuals and music is his confidence that the material will work.  And boy does it!  This is one of the most gleeful, self-indulgent exercises I have ever seen, and that is a great compliment.  No American filmmaker, certainly no one in Hollywood, would have the nerve to present a finished film like this to their public.  This may have contributed to the 8 minute standing ovation the film received at the Cannes Film Festival.

Like Orson Welles with Citizen Kane, Dolan directs himself in a highly stylized movie.  The problem is that, like Welles, Dolan’s performance isn’t as nuanced as his co-star Monia Chokri.  Chokri portrays Marie as a woman on the verge, someone sexually and romantically dissatisfied.  Nicolas (Niels Schneider) represents for her an opportunity for fulfillment and naturally Marie embarrassingly overcompensates.  A nervous twitch is always on Chokri’s face, a bitterness towards her best friend for loving the man she loves, and the actress is intense and brilliant to watch.  Xavier Dolan either put too much pressure on himself as a performer or felt too comfortable with the material (having obviously developed a vision for the film).  Something about him is not entirely convincing but I need to mention that I am nitpicking.  He is very good in this film, but every now and then I caught him acting, as if he was aware of himself as the actor if that makes any sense.  Sometimes his gestures seem as if they were woven into the script rather than spontaneous as the character.  But he has great moments.  His monologue to Nicolas towards the end of the film, when he confesses his love and admits that he wants to kiss him, is a great moment.  Nicholas is playful, unconventionally handsome, and good at sending mixed signals to the feuding friends.  Niels Schneider is perfectly cast and performs the part well, but his character, the idolized object, isn’t given any true moment of honesty.

Throughout the film we are given excerpts of what appear to be interviews of unknown people sharing their breakup stories.  We hear accounts of men leaving women, women leaving men, and women who are crushed when men love other men.  These episodes act as a sort of veneer and prelude to the story of Francis, Marie and Nicholas.  It’s a storytelling device we can imagine Godard having used, a quasi-documentary style meant to cement the credulity of Dolan’s story.  These accounts are often funny, cathartic and performed with glee by the actors reciting the lines.  My favorite is “Cindy Rosenberg” who, in her own words, knows so much about the man she loved that if only he knew, “he would enter the witness protection program... for mafia stools”.  In these accounts and indeed in much of the characters’ dialogue throughout the film, we hear snippets of superficial honesty.  One man mentions that, though he is over his ex-girlfriend, whenever he sees her, he becomes so flustered that all he can do is sing.  Marie gives one of her “boyfriends” (more accurately fuck-buddies) a lengthy reason of why she smokes so much.  However, the real honesty of the story exists in our own understanding of the situation.  This is the one issue I take with the film.  Xavier Dolan is a young man.  His script, sophisticated as it is, reflects this fact.  It’s the angst of a young gay man who is in love with his male best friend.  It’s valid material but not that original, though undoubtedly important to the director.  It feels as if he’s felt this.  But how many times have we seen a lovelorn teen masturbating while holding an article of clothing belonging to his love?  I can’t wait for Dolan to develop into a more unique and mature storyteller.  With age and with his lingering attention to moments in his characters’ lives, this director can only grow stronger as an artist.

Both its English language and original French titles work.  “Les amours imaginaires” translates into “Imaginary Loves”, an appropriate summation of the story.  “Heartbeats” resonates more with the intensity of the passions at play.  Deceptively simple, Xavier Dolan’s second feature is about that dance with love that everybody has had—a passion for someone who may or may not love you back.  Told with such style, Heartbeats is the best film I’ve seen so far this year and likely to be one of the more original films of the decade.

Heartbeats (2010)

(a.k.a. Amours imaginaires, Les)

Director: Xavier Dolan

Writer: Xavier Dolan

Stars: Xavier Dolan, Monia Chokri, and Niels Schneider

Canada

In French and English

Runtime: 98 minutes

Heartbeats is currently playing in select theaters across the US, including the IFC Center in New York City.  It is currently available On Demand from Comcast and other service providers under "IFC In Theaters".  The film should be released on DVD by IFC in the near future.

Fans eager to purchase now can visit Amazon (Canada):

http://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B003Y8YB3M/ref=s9_simh_gw_p74_d1_i1?pf_rd_m=A3DWYIK6Y9EEQB&pf_rd_s=center-3&pf_rd_r=1N4N1N66W2VHF6Q8M3J4&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=463383531&pf_rd_i=915398

IMDB link:

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1600524/