Brief Encounter

The plot behind the film Mademoiselle is fairly standard, but it’s this film’s execution of a fairly familiar story that’s so excellent. Lovers of French film should enjoy Sandrine Bonnaire’s wonderful performance, and the plot’s refreshing, surprising moments.

Mademoiselle, a frame story from director Philippe Lioret, is the tale of Claire (Sandrine Bonnaire) a regional pharmaceutical saleswoman who attends a meeting far from home. Extremely attractive, she could chose to philander with her fellow sales reps, but married with two children, she seems committed to her sales goals and the company she works for.

While attending the sales meeting, she meets Pierre Cassini (Jacques Gamblin), Alice (Isabelle Candelier) and Karim (Zinedine Soualem) who are collectively a group of traveling improvisations actors employed for special events. Known as “The Unpredictables,” they typically infiltrate social occasions, and they assume improvised roles concocted as a result of the type of feedback from the crowd they mingle with. Claire is impressed by the trio’s skills, and circumstances throw them together. Placed in a situation in which they must improvise, Claire and Pierre find themselves improvising a relationship, and the relationship seems so natural it continues into the night.

Mademoiselle is listed as a romantic comedy. Well I’d sort-of agree with the romance part, but scratch the comedy. Claire is luminous as the responsible, ordered saleswoman who has a fling with a spontaneous, creative man who’s her opposite in so many ways. One senses that their relationship would not survive the day-to-day demands of real life, but in the narrow confines of 36 hours, both Claire and Pierre emerge changed by their experience. In French with subtitles.

“It would be wonderful to die of love.”

In the film, The Chambermaid on the Titanic French factory worker Horty (Oliver Martinez) wins the company’s annual contest of strength (once again), but this year, the prize is a bit different. Horty is sent to Southampton, England to watch the launching of the Titanic. At first, Horty’s wife, Zoe (Romane Bohringer) is thrilled because she thinks she will go too, but the prize is for Horty alone, so he leaves for Southampton, and Zoe stays at home.

Horty goes to the Southampton hotel where he is supposed to spend the night, and once inside his room, a beautiful young woman knocks on the door and asks if she can spend the night. Horty, at first refuses, but the young French woman appeals to his chivalrous side. The woman, Marie (Aitana Sanchez-Gijon), says she is a chambermaid on the Titanic. Since she’s due to sail tomorrow and just needs a place to sleep for the night, Horty lets her stay….

Upon returning to France, Horty is greatly changed. His wife notices his altered demeanor, and soon a sulkily distracted Horty is down at the pub with his fellow workers. Someone notices that he has a photograph of Marie, and soon everyone wants to know who she is and exactly what Horty’s relationship is with this beautiful mystery woman. Horty begins to tell stories about Marie, and although the stories begin with romance, Horty’s audience begins to demand the salacious details. Night after night Horty entertains his fellows with his erotic tales. The audience members are all workers whose drab hand-to-mouth existence leaves little energy or money at the end of the day. Horty’s tale of sexual passion with a passing stranger begins to represent the workers’ entertainment and their collective fantasies.

When news that the Titanic has sunk reaches the factory workers, they frenziedly request Horty’s story about Marie over and over again–and the situation becomes intolerable for Zoe. But a quirk of fate leads Horty to an acting career and he takes his stories to a wider audience. Shaped by a savvy, seasoned manager, Horty’s performance becomes more and more elaborate as his audience becomes more affluent.

The story is really about the blending–and collision–of fantasy and truth. Horty and his fellow workers have no glamour or fantasy in their bleak lives until Horty begins entertaining everyone with his stories. Soon it isn’t even important if the stories are true or blatant lies. What’s important is the ability to weave fantasy. But there is danger in fantasy–as Horty discovers–fantasy has a way of getting completely out-of-control, and when fantasy take over your life, does fantasy then become reality?

This is a very clever and unusual film from Spanish director Bigas Luna. It is perhaps one of the most haunting foreign films I’ve ever seen–a very unconventional romance–packed with good, solid acting, a script loaded with surprises, and splendid cinematography. If you enjoy this film I recommend two other films: Patrice Leconte’s The Hairdresser’s Husband and Girl on the Bridge.

“I made an attempt to become a good person.”

The reality of a prostitute’s career is an ugly business. Can this be translated accurately to the silver screen? Probably. But chances are that the average film portrayal will be abysmally unrealistic (the romantic fantasy Pretty Woman, for example). So add Bertrand Blier’s How Much Do You Love Me? (Combien Tu M’Aimes?) to the stack of unrealistic, problematic films involving prostitutes.

The prostitute in this film is the luscious, buxom Daniela (Monica Bellucci) who sits in full view of a café window showing off her wares as she waits for men to cough up 150 Euros for the pleasure of her company. One evening, mild mannered clerk, lonely middle-aged Francois (Bernard Campan) who claims to have won the lottery, offers to ‘buy’ Daniela’s services until his 4 million euros run out. Daniela accepts, and so she leaves with Francois and moves into his grotty little apartment.

Blier’s film plays with several themes before disintegrating into a surreal conclusion. Francois, it seems has a weak heart, and well … Daniela may well push him over the edge. In time, it appears that Daniela may very well be in love with Francois, but is he in love with her? Gerard Depardieu plays a relatively small role as Daniela’s pimp Charly, and in his few scenes, he manages to steal the film.

With opera music to enhance the drama, some scenes are wildly overplayed, and yet other scenes involving Charly and Daniela are staged for high drama, but then fade into an off-kilter humour. The plot seems to spin out-of-control as the film progresses, and the occasional surreal moment eventually consumes the entire film. But if you want to check out Monica Bellucci’s bod, then start here. The film ultimately pays homage to the Italian Sex Goddess, loving lingering on each body shot, finding any excuse to capture, acknowledge and worship her beauty.

“They were literally stripped bare overnight.”

The title to the film To Paint or To Make Love (Peindre Ou Faire L’Amour) seems a bit silly. After all, the two activities aren’t mutually exclusive–although they probably shouldn’t be attempted at the same time. However, after finishing the film, I think the title refers to the fact that we make choices in life, and some choices are as the title suggests–we chose one thing or we chose another. IMDB lists this film as a comedy. I’d disagree with that.

Middle-aged Madeleine Lasserre (Sabine Azema) drives off to the countryside one day to indulge in her hobby–painting, and she sets up her easel and chair in a picturesque field and begins to paint. Her tranquility and her concentration, however, are interrupted by the arrival of a blind man, the local mayor, Adam (Sergi Lopez). Madeleine is intrigued with Adam and also enchanted with the deserted farmhouse he shows her. Madeleine returns to Paris and persuades, her husband, William (Daniel Auteuil) to come back to the spot. They both fall in love with the farmhouse, and decide to retire to the country, leaving behind their boar-pate consuming friends.

So far, so good. At this point there seems to be a myriad possibilities facing the Lasserres. Will they be bored to death in the country? Will the farmhouse fall down around their heads? Are their new neighbours Adam and his much younger wife Eva (Amira Casar) up to anything odd? William and Madeleine find themselves spending a great deal of time with Adam and Eva, and I watched the film, I began to get creepy vibes….

I was surprised–and disappointed by the plot twists. I thought I was about to get some sort of psychological thriller as a degree of manipulation does seem to be taking place. But instead, I got something completely different.

It’s time to return to the title and its symbolic meaning: The Lasserres enjoy a loving marriage, and they are about to enjoy a leisurely retirement. These may be things that just seem to have happened, but their lives are the result of the choices they have made along the way. Once they become full-blown swingers, they are faced with other choices, and the film rotates around these choices, and let’s be clear here–these are choices even though it may seem as though William and Madeleine are swept along.

I can’t say I enjoyed To Paint or To Make Love very much. This is a very superficial treatment of a shift in lifestyle that demands some sort of explanation. We don’t get to know the Lasserres very well, and we certainly don’t get to know what it is that they’re thinking. Considering the vast leap they take, you’d think there would be at least some discussion–if not an entire marital meltdown. There’s no real explanation why the Lasserres find it acceptable to leave their former monogamy behind once they’re let loose in the country, and it’s impossible to take this film at face value–yet that seems to be exactly what we are supposed to do. There are many questions left unanswered–are we, for example, supposed to see these experiences as ‘liberating’ or are we supposed to see the Lasserres as middle-aged idiots in the throes of some sort of yuppie crisis?

This is a poor role for Auteuil. He could play this role in his sleep, and it’s unfortunate that the part of William doesn’t present more challenges for this fine actor. In French with subtitles, the film is directed by Arnaud Larrieu Jean-Marie Larrieu.

“What does it mean to know someone?”

Gabrielle, a film from director Patrice Chereau is a showcase for the talents of the marvelous actress Isabelle Huppert. Set in the early 20th century, the film begins very strongly with Jean Hervey (Pascal Greggory) leaving the train station and smugly musing on the merits of his most excellent wife of ten years, “well bred and intelligent” Gabrielle (Isabelle Huppert). Jean is a very wealthy man who has recently acquired a newspaper. This has led to the Herveys’ including a number of artistic types in the frequent soirees held at their lavish Paris mansion.

Jean’s musings on the merits of his wife, Gabrielle, turn into shock when he discovers a note from her explaining that she’s left him. But his shock turns to anger and recriminations when Gabrielle unexpectedly returns after discovering that she cannot, after all, leave her husband.

The majority of the film covers the ensuing hours between Gabrielle’s return and a dinner party held in their home. While the film at first presents Jean as an admiring, happy husband, subsequent bitter recriminations reveal that the Herveys’ marriage is not what is seems. With a cold, passionless relationship based on appearances, just how will this unhappy couple ‘appear’ cordial to one another in light of Gabrielle’s adultery? Gabrielle, was, before her adulterous affair, just another one of Jean’s possessions, and he admits that he loves “her as a collector loves his most prized possession.” Jean’s emotional detachment degenerates into passionate hatred while Gabrielle reveals defenses even rage cannot surmount.

This is a beautifully realized film based on the story, The Return from Joseph Conrad. The Herveys’ mansion resembles a museum rather than a home–footsteps echo in cold marble floors, and one could so easily become lost in the empty rooms. Even the dinner parties, which at least bring hordes of humans into the Herveys’ home, seem stilted and false. At times the elegant crowd constructs a tableaux rather than a room of living breathing people engaged in social intercourse. Perhaps this is accentuated in part by the dirge-like music played rather heavily by a morose guest.

At times, particularly in the early stages of the film, I anticipated a Rohmer-type quality dialogue. Unfortunately, the film never reached these intellectual heights. Wonderfully acted, the film strikes some discordant notes at several points–I found Gabrielle’s dialogue with the servant implausible, for example, and the ending unsatisfying. In French with subtitles.

“You don’t have a T.V.?”

The French film Alias Betty (Betty Fisher et les Autres Histoires) explores motherhood through the death of one child and the kidnapping of another. In the film, novelist Betty Fisher (Sandrine Kiberlain) meets her mother at the airport. It’s not exactly a happy reunion. The mother, Margot (Nicole Garcia) lives in Spain with Betty’s father, and she’s come to Paris for some medical tests. Margot, with a lifelong history of mental disease is an amazingly self-centered person. While Margot is content to spend time with Betty, Betty’s small son, Joseph doesn’t appear to exist. Margot doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of parental responsibility, and a brief glimpse into Betty’s childhood confirms this.

Shortly after Margot arrives, Joseph dies following a horrible accident. While Betty withdraws into grief, Margot decides that Betty needs a new child, so she simply goes out and steals one. The theft of the child has unexpected ramifications on the lives of the stolen child’s irresponsible mother and her boyfriend, and the latter immediately becomes a suspect.

Based on the marvelous novel, Tree of Hands, written by Mistress of Suspense Ruth Rendell, the film weaves together three story lines–Betty, the stolen child’s mother Carole Novacki (Mathilde Seigner) and her boyfriend Francois (Luck Mervil), and another man from Carole’s checkered past, Alex (Edouard Baer).

Tree of Hands, I think, is Rendell’s best novel, and this film version really does the novel credit. The plot’s clever parallels and observations of human nature strengthen the story and elevate it beyond the level of a simple mystery into. There’s the idea of Motherhood, for example. Betty had a traumatic childhood–something she’s tried to forgive her mother for. When Margot first appears, she seems to be just a self-focused selfish woman, but as the film continues, it becomes increasingly obvious that she’s deranged. There’s a void, a moral disconnect, a lack of appropriate emotion. But even deranged Margot recognizes her daughter’s pain and seeks to correct it by a criminal act. This act, and the consequences that follow illustrate Margot’s deficient mental state.

Carole, the mother of the stolen child, is another, different sort of parent. Carole couldn’t care less about her son, and to her the child is an encumbrance and a nuisance. But while both Carole and Margot aren’t ideal mothers, their inadequacies are rooted in very different causes. Both are negligent, and both seem to lack maternal feeling, and both of these women are chilling in different ways. On the other hand, it’s impossible to watch the film without drawing comparisons to Betty and Carole. Betty adored her son, built her life around him, and then lost him. It’s seems to be such a cruel twist of fate that Betty loses her beloved child while Carole can’t get rid of hers fast enough. Ironically, this uneven state of affairs–unwanted children and a grieving mother–is corrected through the criminal act conducted by Margot.

Directed by Claude Miller, Alias Betty is in French with subtitles.

 “An anarchist right in our midst.”

I Am Dina from Norwegian director Ole Bornedal is a difficult film to categorize. Set in 1860s Norway, it’s a romantic period drama–but with strong overtones of the supernatural. In this tale, soap opera blends with mini-epic, and combines with elements of Wide Sargasso Sea and Wuthering Heights. Ultimately it’s 125 minutes of solid–rather odd–entertainment that delivers some mixed feelings about the protagonist–Dina.

Dina is the only child of a wealthy couple. One day a horrible accident (for which Dina is blamed) kills Dina’s mother (Pernilla August). In his grief and rage, Dina’s father (Bjorn Floberg) rejects the child. Dina reverts to a terrified, animalistic state and literally goes mad. This is a horrible, dramatic beginning to the film, and the pristine setting of the beautiful fjords somehow just makes the dying mother’s screams even more horrific.

So the scene is set to make Dina a very sympathetic character … Her father loathes her, he ignores her whenever possible, and soon he has a completely wild, filthy child running all over the fjords. Thanks to intervention from a concerned friend, Jacob (Gerard Depardieu), a tutor named Lorch is brought in for Dina. He beguiles Dina with the cello, and she takes the bait. Lorch then becomes the only person to have any sort of emotional bond with Dina.

Dina (Marie Bonnevie) grows up to be a beautiful young woman, but she’s still extremely strange–one quick look establishes that. But her strangeness doesn’t deter her father’s old friend, Jacob from demanding Dina as a bride. Jacob really should know better, but he can’t help himself. When Dina’s father attempts to force her to marry Jacob, Dina shows just how wild, strange and violent she can be. But this is really just the beginning of Dina’s non-conformist, violent behaviour.

Part Bildungsroman (and the film–by the way–is based on a best-selling trilogy), the film explores the effects of Dina’s traumatic childhood on her adult decisions. Haunted by ghosts, she is in love with the presence of death, and she tends to hurt anyone who loves her. On one hand, there’s a lot to admire about Dina–but then she treats the unfortunate men in her life abominably. Lustful Gerard Depardieu, for example, converts into terrified quivering jelly after less than 24 hours in her company. Although immersed in a patriarchal society, Dina destroys any attempt at male domination–and her reaction to the males in her life shows Dina at her most gracious, but also at her most predatory and monstrous. Ultimately, this lavish tale can be seen as Dina’s triumph over a lifetime of self-destructive patterns of behaviour.

“Humanity seems divided into two unequal parts: those whose physique, self-confidence and radiance make them invulnerable, and the vast majority of others, characterized by want, frustration, and the secret vain obsession of what they can never attain.”

La Role de Sa Vie (The Role of Her Life), an excellent film from director Francois Favrat, deals with a premise that we’ve seen before–the working relationship between a powerhouse actress and an admirer (Backstage, for example). Even though these relationships based on huge inequities and worship usually end badly and predictably, this does not stop La Role de Sa Vie from being a fascinating film.

The famous actress in La Role de Sa Vie is Elisabeth Becker, played by Agnes Jaoui, who has directed some marvelous films of her own. The fan/underling in this case is Claire Rocher (Karin Viard) a mild, retiring but sweet employee at a magazine. One day, Elisabeth comes to the magazine’s office to give an interview, but there’s a mix up with her taxi. Claire is told to give Elisabeth a lift home. In typical Diva fashion, Elisabeth doesn’t appreciate the fact that Claire is going out of her way–in fact to her, the star treatment is expected. So while Claire can’t believe her luck that Elisabeth Becker is actually sitting in her car, the actress takes the lift for granted and even bitches at Claire that she isn’t getting to her destination fast enough.

Now if this were a story of equals, the relationship would probably end there. But Elisabeth begins to show an interest in shy, budding writer Claire and soon offers her a job as an assistant. Claire, flattered, accepts. At first, everything seems to go very well–although there are hints that Elisabeth has indulged in these sorts of relationships before. A complication arises when Elisabeth begins a relationship with Matthias, a gardener Claire is also attracted to.

A few scenes between Claire and her roommate establish that she’s a pushover and easy to take advantage of. Claire, who at times seems to lack a personality, is not, however, a typically hollow fan, content to bask in the glory of her idol. In fact, she doesn’t idolize Elisabeth at all and seems to have no illusions regarding Elisabeth’s relationships with men. While she makes an excellent and efficient employee for Elisabeth, Claire has goals of her own. Gradually, the relationship between Claire and Elisabeth becomes fraught with petty slights and humiliations.

Elisabeth seems to be in the habit of establishing personal relationships in which she has the upper hand–in fact she seems more comfortable in this role. At one point, Claire is told that Elisabeth’s behaviour can be excused as “no one behaves normally around her, so how can she judge?” And this is a fair assessment, but La Role de Sa Vie is a subtle film, so we never really know exactly what motivates Elisabeth. Sometimes she just casts a long look towards the person who happens to be getting attention at that moment, and then she acts. While motivation remains unstated, Elisabeth most certainly likes to be the star in her circle. But as Claire wryly observes, “a star can conceal a black hole.” Gradually it’s apparent that of the two women, Elisabeth is the one who lacks a centre. And this is what makes La Role de Sa Vie so different and so very interesting. Films usually portray the fan, the hero-worshipper as the hollow person who rather pathologically wishes to become one with the object of worship. Backstage portrays this sort of unhealthy relationship very well. But this paradigm does not work in the case of Claire and Elisabeth, and that’s partly because Claire never blindly worships Elisabeth, but it’s also because Claire possesses a strong centre–it was just buried deep down by all that lack of confidence. In French with subtitles.

 ”I’m never far from Paris.”

This wrenching biopic of the life of French chanteuse Edith Piaf is 140 minutes long, and it covers Piaf’s awful childhood, her turbulent adolescence and her doomed love affair with love-of-her life boxer Marcel Cerdan (Jean-Pierre Martins). Marion Cotillard plays the adult Edith Piaf, and she’s nothing less than amazing here as she ranges from a streetwise teenager who earns her living singing in the streets to a morphine-addicted chanteuse who struggles to make the next performance. Sylvie Testud stars as Piaf’s half-sister Momone, a girl who’s basically Piaf’s partner in crime until Piaf hits the big time, and then she is absorbed into Piaf’s large circle of caretakers, fans and hanger-ons.

As a child, Piaf was abandoned by her mother, left with her paternal grandmother, and raised in a brothel. In some ways, these are the halcyon years for the sickly child who is raised erratically amongst the prostitutes. Then Piaf’s father returns from WWI and retrieves his child, he rejoins the circus, and of course, little Edith is eventually expected to contribute to the family coffers, and this is where her gift–her marvelous voice–comes into the picture.

Teenaged Edith Piaf is singing on the streets of Paris for a living (and handing her money over to her brutish pimp lover) when she’s spotted by club owner Louis Leplee (Gerard Depardieu). While this was a lucky break for Piaf, as fate would have it, it was an unlucky break for Leplee. The film highlights moments in Piaf’s life, going back and forth in time, and this methodology works. Instead of seeing Piaf becoming Piaf (apart from a little stage coaching and a change of last name), instead we see Piaf being Piaf. She seems essentially the same–although her material circumstances do change.

Watching La Vie En Rose puts a whole new meaning to Piaf’s song : Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien, for she led a life in which tragedy and triumph went hand in hand. One wonders what Piaf’s life would have been without the gift of that incredible voice. Here she’s portrayed as a not-particularly nice person, but as a woman who possesses an indomitable spirit and who knows what she wants. There’s a tantalizing gray area in the film concerning Piaf’s booze and morphine (up to 10 injections a day) addictions. At what point do her caretakers and manager become facilitators in order to secure the next performance? Directed by Olivier Dahan, in French with subtitles.

“Speak to me in the language of Moliere.”

Moliere, from director Laurent Tirard is a tasty romp through 17th century France. The film’s main premise is to present the backdrop story to Moliere’s success. There are some gaps in Moliere’s history, and during a thirteen-year period, he toured in the provinces with his troupe of actors. Here, he honed his satirical skills, and gained immense popularity before establishing himself at La Salle du Petit-Bourbon in Paris. The film Moliere attempts to explain some of the murkier details about Moliere’s past by presenting a slice of his life that mirrors the elegant style and wit of his wonderful plays.

Moliere (Romain Duris) is a talented but penniless actor who finds himself thrown in jail when he cannot pay his debts. But a rich gentleman, Monsieur Jourdain (Fabrice Luchini) pays for Moliere’s release. Jourdain, however, wants something in return, and he arranges for Moliere to arrive at his splendid country mansion. Jourdain, prosperous, and eager to improve himself, is in the habit of employing experts to teach him various skills. And he employs Moliere to teach him acting skills. It seems that Jourdain, although married to the deliciously lovely, Elmire (Laura Morante) is enamored with a shallow young widow, Celimene (Ludivine Sagnier). Jourdain intends to present himself at one of Celimene’s celebrated salons and impress her with a rendition of something written in her honor.

Now since Jourdain can’t tell his wife that Moliere is there to help him seduce another woman, Jourdain dresses Moliere up like a priest and tells Elmire that Moliere (now named Tartuffe) is in their home as a spiritual advisor. And here on Jourdain’s country estate, as events unfold, ‘real’ life assumes aspects of a Moliere play complete with a cuckolded husband, star-crossed lovers, and a fake kidnapping. Fans of Moliere will recognize names and plot elements of his plays, and of course, the implied idea is that Moliere’s greatest inspiration came from this episode in his early life.

Moliere, while not quite as good as the plays, is highly entertaining. The film also explores the idea of Moliere’s frustrated desire to write great tragedies, and it’s through his relationship with Elmire, that he finally realises the importance of comedy. With flawless timing, and impeccable acting, this is a witty, clever, and good-natured costume drama.