Intimate Enemies (2007)

“I hear you’ve been having qualms.”

The gritty, intense French film, Intimate Enemies (L’Ennemi Intime) from director Florent Emilio Siri examines the French-Algerian war through a single platoon. It’s 1959, and the FLN (National Liberation Front) is committed to a free Algeria without the French, and the French are committed to keeping Algeria as part of France. During the French-Algerian war, France conscripted 500,000 men to fight, and approximately 27,000 never came home (according to the film). On the Algerian side, figures range from 350,000 to 1.5 million.

The film begins when a cock-up involving friendly fire wipes out the platoon’s lieutenant, and then a replacement in the form of blonde, blue-eyed Lieutenant Terrien (Benoit Magimel) arrives. Terrien is married with a six-year-old son and in his civilian life he is an industrial designer. The film wisely doesn’t allow Terrien to be a complete idealist, but his lack of savagery still puts him at odds with both his men and his superiors.

Terrien’s right hand man is the seasoned battle veteran Sgt. Dougnac (Albert Dupontel)–a man who’s fought in Indochine, but some of the other officers are also WWII veterans, or resistance fighters, so they bring their own history of various conflicts to the sparse, harsh Algerian territory.

There are no major battles fought, just mission after mission into the “forbidden zone” to capture the elusive Slimane in this tense, action-packed film. The film doesn’t get preachy (and it really could given the material), instead the plot focuses on the sheer and utter mess of the French-Algerian war. For example, the platoon has its own Algerian fighters and its own scouts. Some of the Algerians who fight with the French have seen their entire families slaughtered by the FNL fellagha (outlaws), while another fought with the French in Italy during WWII. The film doesn’t show the FLN hardliners–instead we see the terrified villagers stuck in the middle of the ‘battlefield’ and who have to pay ‘revolutionary tax’ to the fellagha or risk violent death.  There are several scenes with Algerians on both sides of the political divide facing each other and debating their choices, and for most of them, it seems to be a matter of chance which side they work for.

Several scenes cover the various arguments of those concerned in this convoluted mess, and since this is a colonial war, the arguments cover such issues as France granting independence to Morroco and Tunisia but not to Algeria. In another scene, one character compares the French occupation of Algeria with the German occupation of France. This has a particularly ironic twist as one character fought the Gestapo as a resistance fighter, and now he’s here in a foreign country supressing the locals. As the film continues the behaviour of the French devolves with foray after fruitless foray into the forbidden zone. It’s impossible not to draw comparisons with Vietnam and Afghanistan. Perhaps it’s the terrain or the napalm. But then again perhaps it’s the slaughter of villagers caught in the middle or even the torture conducted by both sides to wring information from prisoners. Watching Intimate Enemies shows again how situations such as My Lai can occur.

Lt. Terrain has some harsh lessons to learn on his path to brutality, but learn them he does, and along the way he crosses the ‘immoral order’ divide. Deliberately hung out to learn about the brutality of the enemy, Terrain descends to a level of “barbarism” he could not have imagined. After all, “at 100 volts, the truth always comes out.”

The only thing we all have to cling to is our belief system–whatever that may be, but whatever morality Terrain tries to hang on to is ripped away or eroded in the impossible moral quagmire he faces. Terrain is confused by conflicting moral choices. What is his first priority? What is his mission? And does he have to abandon morality in order to fight the FLN? The film’s final message is that the entire war was a horrible mistake with thousands of wasted lives on both sides.

The film is based on the non-fiction book by Patrick Rotman.

Water Lilies (2007)

Water Lilies (Naissance des Pieuvres) is a French coming-of-age film that dabbles in the dark waters of budding female sexuality. The film takes a long time to warm up but the wait is well worth it. Plus there’s always the film’s gorgeous cinematography.

Set in the suburbs of Paris during long hot summer days, the film begins with various teams of girls preparing and then participating in synchronized swimming in a large public pool. Marie (Pauline Acquart) is there to watch her best friend Anne (Louise Blanchere) perform, but in reality, Marie moves her seat to get a better look at the striking Floriane (Adele Haenel).

Marie, who’s shrimp of a girl, idolizes Floriane, and it’s easy to see why. In the water, Floriane performs with grace and dexterity–out of the water, she’s not so pleasant. Blonde, tall and shapely, Floriane is loathed by her team members and has the reputation of being the team “slut.” Wherever she goes, males vie for Floriane’s attention, and most of her focus is on Francois (Warren Jacquin), a good-looking popular male swimmer. 

Marie begins to neglect her friendship with plump, unpopular Anne, and she tries to join a swimming team. But does she really want to swim or does she need an excuse to hang around Floriane? While Marie is discontent with her body, and even tries on a swimming suit on top of her clothing, Floriane is a study in self-confidence. Marie’s discontent about her body seems to translate to a desire to be like Floriane, and yet there are also strong strains of sexual feelings mingled in with the hero worship. Floriane’s character appears as clearly defined and developed as her body, and Marie’s less defined character appears to waver and then become absorbed in Floriane’s shadow.

Although Floriane rejects Marie’s tentative worship at first, gradually she begins to allow Marie into her life, and Marie, assuming the subordinate position in the relationship, seems content to do favours and provide alibis for Floriane. While Floriane initially seems the stuck-up type: popular, attractive, and confident, her cruel streak appears to be put aside for her friendship with Marie, and yet an edge of cruelty remains. Which is the real Floriane?

Meanwhile, Anne, left to her own devices, begins to have romantic feelings for Francois and makes bold overtures towards him in front of his team mates.  Marie’s close friendship with Anne seems ruined, and at the same time, Marie’s new friendship with Floriane doesn’t bode well. Adults stay largely in the film’s background, and the parents are noticeably absent while the teens are left to their own devices.  

In some ways, Water Lilies tackles the familiar issues that often crop up in films that focus on teens: sexual inexperience, sexual confusion, conformity, etc. But Water Lilies is a beautiful film that handles these issues with great subtlety and it’s impossible to guess where the film is taking the viewer until the final credits roll.

To say more about the plot would ruin the viewing experience for those out there who haven’t watched the film yet. If you are a fan of French film, and enjoy slow-moving, thoughtful and provocative drama, then chances are that you will enjoy Water Lilies from first time director Celine Sciamma.

Nuit Noire, 17 Octobre 1961(2005)

Nuit Noire, 17 Octobre 1961, a French made-for-television film is a long-overdue look at the horrendous events that took place in Paris on that fateful night. In the summer of 1961, Algerian nationalist forces and De Gaulle’s French government were locked in negotiations for Algerian independence. Meanwhile racial tensions in Paris were at boiling point. The FLN (National Liberation Front) began to carry out ‘retaliations’ against French police and led a bold attack at a police station that left policemen dead. Following the assassination of another policeman, Police Chief Maurice Papon (Thierry Fortineau) declared “for each blow we receive, we will deliver ten.” On Oct 5, the curfew from 8:30 pm-5:30 am was declared on all French muslims from Algeria, and the demonstration on October 17 was organised by the FLN in response. The night ended in horrific bloodshed with an undetermined number of protestors beaten to death. Some were beaten and thrown in the Seine and others were beaten to death by police in a walled courtyard at police headquarters. Estimates of the number of dead range from 50-300. There was no official enquiry at the time and it was only in 1998 that the French government finally acknowledge the shameful events that took place that night. No one was ever prosecuted.

Since this is a re-enactment of events that took place, the film is not character-centered. Instead the story is a detailed reenactment that answers the question: how could this have happened? Watching the lead-up to October 17 becomes a tense, almost painful experience, and there’s the definite feeling (even if we didn’t know what happened that night) that everything will end badly. The film follows several characters and their roles in the events of that night: Sabine (Clotilde Courau) a young female reporter who doesn’t approve of the FLN, Abde, a young Algerian who’s taking classes to improve his French, his sympathetic, naive young teacher, a young French radical woman whose sympathies lie squarely with the Algerians, and a young policeman, Martin who’s about to resign due to fear for his life.

The film begins with details of the weeks before the demonstration, and these scenes set the stage for what lies ahead as the film’s characters are gradually trapped in a maze of violence: Algerians are stopped and harassed by police for entertainment, and police officers, many of whom have served in Algeria, feel as though they have ‘carte blanche’ in this perceived period of open season towards any Algerians who may fall into their hands. Algerian workers, living in slums or shantytowns, are beaten and harassed by police, and then when the police are done with them, the same Algerians are beaten and threatened by the hardcore FLN members. Amidst rumours of bodies of Algerians found hanging in the forest, bands of rogue cops go hunting for stray Algerians at night. And of course, in the process, Italians, Spanish–anyone slightly dark skinned fall foul of the police.

In one scene, Abde reluctantly goes to police headquarters accompanied by his teacher to ask about his missing uncle. The treatment the teacher receives at the hands the officers leaves her in shock and tears–as a French citizen, she’s always had assurances of certain behaviour from the police, but now, in the company of an Algerian, she gets a taste of how the immigrants are treated every day. At first, she protests with the typical threat of a complaint and then it dawns on her, just who is she going to complain to?

This very intelligent film shows the political machinations from both sides during this period, and of course, the often unacknowledged political tactics has a trickle down effect to the ground level. Clearly the FLN organisers of the demonstration expected violence, and scenes depict shantytown dwellers being forced to participate. While there are definite innocents in the film, the plot also reveals those who waver before choosing sides. The policemen, Martin, for example, isn’t portrayed as a bad character, and police violence and harassment of Algerians seems to make him queasy, but he’s also weak and tends to turn away rather than utterly reject their behaviour. After the assassination of a fellow policeman, Martin finds himself participating in violence towards Algerians. On the other hand, another police sergeant utterly rejects the events of 17 October (also known as The Paris Massacre) and finds himself ostracized and threatened.

Police Chief Papon was, of course, a major player in events. Not only did he serve as a French Prefect in France’s Dirty War with Algeria overseeing repression and torture, he was also interestingly enough, finally convicted in 1998 for deporting over 1600 Jews from Bordeaux to concentration camps. Strange, isn’t it, the way these old fascists just pick up and move on from one government gig to another.

Police records show, and the film illustrates, that Papon encouraged police to be  “subversive” and he even promised to protect them from prosecution. This of course, opens up many other questions. For example: while the French government denied that the police murdered demonstrators, how did they explain the bodies fished out of the Seine or beaten to a pulp at police headquarters? These bodies must have been buried somewhere, and of course, this can only lead to the idea that many levels of the French government contributed into a media clamp down of the incident.  Indeed the film shows media censorship and biased reporting.

Nuit Noire, 17 Octobre 1961 is an extremely powerful film.  Even though we know how the film will end, nothing can prepare the viewer for one scene of unspeakable violence in the walled courtyard at police headquarters.

From director Alain Tasma

A Song of Innocence (2005)

“One day, they’ll be no more masters and servants.”

Set in nineteenth century France, A Song of Innocence (La Ravisseuse) begins with the arrival of a wet nurse to a large country mansion. The wet nurse, a young girl named Angele-Marie (Isild Le Besco) has left her baby boy behind in order to take the job as a wet nurse for the baby of a wealthy young couple, Charlotte (Emilie Dequenne) and her austere architect husband, Julien (Gregoire Colin). Angele-Marie has been selected from dozens of similarly lactating women, and she’s been chosen by Julien.

Angele-Marie is a good wet nurse, and she gets right to the task considered too “lowly” for her young mistress. While Angele-Marie nurses the baby and takes care of her morning, noon and night, Julien hopes that this will free up his wife for the bedroom once again. But with Julien distracted by work and refurbishing a new, splendid apartment in Paris, Charlotte forms a tentative relationship with Angele-Marie. At first the relationship forms as a sort of  “sisterhood.” The convent-raised Charlotte is shocked to discover that her wet nurse has a baby of her own who’s been farmed out somewhere else in the country while her mother earns a living by selling her breast milk. A less sexually naive woman wouldn’t need to have all this spelled out for her, but Charlotte is so innocent, she doesn’t seem to grasp that breast milk means that there was a baby somewhere….

The two young women do have a great deal in common, but while Angele-Marie considers her relationship with Charlotte to be friendship, Charlotte treats Angele-Marie like a pet, and dressing her up as a nursemaid, she becomes a sort of fashion accessory. Angele-Marie  loves to make up stories and she and Charlotte even engage in the occasional daydream, but Angele-Marie, as a peasant, can’t afford imagination.

Meanwhile Angele-Marie and Charlotte find some pleasure in each other’s company, but everyone else in the household is either threatened or annoyed about it. Leonce (Anemone), the housekeeper is jealous of the wet nurse’s relationship with the young mistress. After all, by becoming Charlotte’s pet, Angele-Marie is elevated over the other servants. Julien, sexually unsatisfied by his wife, begins sneaking around the house for glimpses of Angele-Marie’s breasts, but like a typically-repressed person, he begins to loathe the object of his lust. Even Julien and Charlotte’s bourgeois relatives are appalled by the wet nurse’s elevated position.

Flashbacks reveal exactly how Julien and the family doctor selected Angele-Marie for the wet nurse job. One scene depicts women baring their breasts to their potential employer and both the sexual aspects and the objectification of women is clear as the would-be wet nurses ply their wares like women on display in a brothel.

Set in 1877, A Song of Innocence contains shades of class discontent, mainly voiced by the servants who after all must still remember the debacle of the 1871 Paris Commune. During the late 18th century in France, it was the ‘done’ thing for a bourgeois family to employ a wet nurse for the exclusive use of their baby while the wet nurse’s baby was fostered out to face certain death in the country. Peasant wet nurses were known to nurse up to five babies at a time for a pittance, and the morality rate was not good. Scenes with Julien and the doctor acknowledge the attitude that it’s a very reasonable thing for them to ‘rent’ Angele-Marie while condemning her baby to certain death. Of course, this attitude simply reinforces the societal hierarchy of one bourgeois baby being equal to an infinite number of peasant babies.

Angele-Marie and Charlotte’s friendship at first seems to be based in sisterhood and the commonalities they share as women viewed by society as the chattels of men, but any notion of sisterhood is eventually overridden by the powerful pull of class loyalties. The film includes some clever camera shots that emphasize Julien’s growing sexual obsession with Angele-Marie, and an aura of mystery and impending dread runs through the film. From director Antoine Santana.

Les Sanguinaires (1999)

“We’ll either die of cold or boredom.”

In the French film Les Sanguinaires, as the millennium approaches, Francois (Frederic Pierrot) the Paris-based owner of the Jetlag Travel agency plans a special ‘getaway,’ and he invites a group of friends to join him in what he promises to be a unique experience. While Paris is clogged with those who seek to celebrate the millennium,  Francois, his wife Catherine (Catherine Bauque) and their friends travel to one of the Sanguinaire islands located near Corsica. The plan is to sit-out the millennium and basically avoid it.

Things begin to go wrong almost immediately. Stephane (Jalil Lespert), the young man who runs the island’s lighthouse is supposed to be there to meet them and take them to their rented house. Although he does show up hours later, a grim mood begins to descend on the holiday makers as they realize that the island is so isolated, they are basically stranded. But it gets worse…when Stephane does show up with the food, everyone realizes that the lodgings are primitive and without heat. Although some of the adults and the small children try to put a happy spin onto the adventure, the teenagers, who already resent being ripped away from Paris, are appalled.

As the days wear on–without television, telephones or radio, the determination to have a good time stretches very thin. Tension mounts when Stephane begins to be very popular with the children and inadvertently the leadership role shifts from Francois to Stephane. Francois resents Stephane’s popularity, and as some of the adults begin to plan a New Year’s Eve party, Francois becomes increasingly more taciturn and depressed.

Les Sanguinaires is not Cantent’s strongest film. It’s a strange tale that begins as one man’s avoidance of the crass, commercialism of the millennium, and it’s entirely conceivable that a travel agent, who has spent the last few months planning other people’s holiday destinations for the millennium,  would cringe at the flamboyant celebrations and massive numbers of tourists who will descend on Paris for the event. So it makes sense that Francois would invent an alternate way to celebrate,  and that those plans would involve a quiet escape far from the crowds. It soon becomes apparent, however, that the island getaway isn’t so much an alternative as much as it’s Francois’ attempt to deny that the millennium is taking place.

After reading short descriptions of Les Sanguinaires, my impression was that it was some sort of feel good film about a bunch of aging yuppies who got together for chats and intimate exchanges as they wax on about the future of the planet, the wankerism of politics and embarrassing confessionals about their relationships. Les Sanguinaires is not a feel-good film; it’s a vaguely disturbing and unsettling tale. While the group struggle to put a brave face on the choice of destination, it becomes increasingly apparent that avoiding the millennium means a great deal more to Francois than anyone can possibly understand.

The film raises questions which are never addressed by the plot, and this contributes to the film’s overall disturbing mood. There’s an underlying menace throughout the film which is emphasized by the bleak island; will Francois go postal or will Stephane abandon this lot of spoiled Parisians who sometimes don’t treat him particularly well? Although Francois gathers a fair number of friends for this little get-together, most of the other characters seem to be there for decoration. There’s little time spent exploring the thoughts or reactions of the friends as the situation becomes increasingly more uncomfortable.  Since Francois is a travel agent, and cooking up bang-up holidays is his business, it seems plausible that his friends would have expected something a bit more exotic than this bleak, subsistence-level destination, but apart from a few significant looks, the friends remain mute on the subject–a little disgruntled bitching would not have been out of place.  Les Sanguinaires could have been a much better film, but that said, it’s not bad. The film’s underlying air of mystery and unresolved questions linger long after the credits roll.

Summer Things (2002)

“It’s aggravated nymphomania.”

Holidays are about all about space. In our regular, non-holiday lives we create and occupy certain spaces on this planet that involve work, home, family, friends and responsibilities. Along with those issues comes the idea, weaved into various cultures, that we need breaks from the old routines, respite from the drudgery, and that renewal can be found by getting away from ‘it’ all and enjoying a new life on holiday. This holiday–it’s argued–gives a well-deserved and much needed breather from the stressful aspects of life. A little R&R and we’re refreshed and renewed–ready to jump back into the rat race. Well that’s the idea anyway, but as someone who spent many miserable holidays as a child of a constantly bickering married couple, as the saying goes: wherever you go, well there you are.

While some people escape successfully from their regular spaces (work & responsibilities) by creating an entirely new, idylllic and temporary life in a pleasant or exotic holiday environment, still others discover, the hard way, that taking their nearest and dearest off on holiday with them perpetuates the problems they had back at home. In fact, some families on holiday aggress on each other like rats in a tiny cage. Just recall the scene in European Vacation when the Griswold family are stuck for hours in a confined space, and note how quickly they get on each other’s nerves. Then again, some people on holiday are disinhibited by their new environments and get up to all sorts of things they wouldn’t dream of doing at home.

So this leads me to my interest in films which depict people unleashed on holiday. The French always depict this so well, and the films of Eric Rohmer often explore the things people get up to on their holidays, but in this instance, the film under review is Summer Things aka Embrassez Qui Vous Voudrez. The film is a very nasty, bitterly funny look at a bunch of people who go on holiday and discover…well…an assortment of things.

When the film begins, affluent couple Bertrand and Elizabeth Lannier (Jacques Dutronc & Charlotte Rampling) are planning their annual vacation at a swanky hotel. Their friends, Jerome (Denis Podalydes) and Veronique (Karin Viard) who have substantially less income, plan on joining them there, in spite of the fact they can ill afford this indulgence. On the brink of bankruptcy, Jerome doesn’t have the energy to tell Veronique and teenage son Loic (Gaspard Ulliel) they can’t afford to go, and so he hobbles together a vacation which includes a tiny little caravan a few miles away from the hotel. Veronique, who’s locked into a losing competition over material wealth with the Lanniers, is mainly an hysterical, accusatory mess, expecting Jerome to “fix” the problems have. He copes by salvaging meters and ignores impending disaster with hopes that their house will sell.

In the meantime, Elizabeth invites free-spirited Julie (Clotilde Courau) along for a free holiday. Since this means that she’ll bring along her neglected baby, Bertrand elects to stay home. He’d rather keep his space at home than trade it in for a holiday suite with his wife, Julie (his one-time lover) and her baby. While the Lanniers plan their holiday, their wild daughter, Emilie (Lou Doillon) elects to go to Chicago supposedly with a girlfriend.

An assortment of unpleasant, troubled people converge on the swanky Westminster hotel–there’s slimy lounge lizard Maxime (Vincent Elbaz) whose goal is to nail every woman in sight, and then there’s another married couple,  the violently jealous Jean Pierre (writer and director Michel Blanc) and Lulu (Carole Bouquet). Lulu’s idea is to get a bit of peace and quiet, but with Jean Pierre breathing down her neck, that proves to be impossible.  What ensues is a French domestic farce on a grand scale and involving multiple couples as they try and “enjoy” their holidays. What the couples discover is they really need a break from each other….

The film is fast-paced but perfectly timed, with pithy nasty comments flying through the air as couples bicker and friends lob snide, yet subtle barbs at one another. Veronique, for example, is horribly embarrassed when Elizabeth greets her bitchily commenting on Veronique’s well-worn clothes, but the comments are too subtle for Veronique to catch except to flag and underscore the difference in material wealth: “She got three weeks in Bali. I got pizza and a quickie in a car.”

For about 9/10 of the film, it’s wildly funny but fizzles right at the end. But if you like your comedy mean, nasty, and savagely funny, then there’s a good chance you’ll really enjoy Summer Things, but don’t expect ‘inspiring‘ or ‘uplifting’; this is human nature at its worst. That said, it’s one of the funniest films I’ve seen in a long time.

I’ve included some of this film’s great lines:

“Drive this shit heap to a hotel.”

“Not easy living with a nympho.”

“Take your proposal and shove it. I’m like you. I get laid and move on.”

“I threw up and a tuna hit my balls.”

“I’d turn tricks, but I can’t afford a g-string.”

 “Just a quickie in the elevator. No big deal.”

Elevator to the Gallows (1958)

“We’ll only be together in the headlines.”

Director Louis Malle was just 25 years old when his first non-documentary feature Elevator to the Gallows (Ascenseur pour l’echafaud) was released in June 1958. With two shorts and a documentary feature he co-directed with Jacques Costeau under his belt, Malle set out to make a commercial B-level movie in order to get funding for future films. The result is the suspenseful, perfectly crafted and beautifully photographed Elevator to the Gallows re-released in 2006 by Criterion. Based on the French pulp fiction novel by Noel Calef, and with the story set to a haunting Miles Davis score, this noir tale of adultery and murder is tempered by a chain of ill-fated events. No matter how slick a plan is, no matter how well it’s executed, it’s always the unexpected events, the things that you can’t plan for that ultimately trip up the murderer’s scheme.

The film begins with a phone call between Florence Carala (Jeanne Moreau) and her lover Julien Tavernier (Maurice Ronet). It’s a frantic phone call with more than an edge of desperation. The camera focuses on close ups of the mouths of these lovers as they pour their anguish and passion into the telephone. But aside from all the words of love, Florence and Julien are finalizing their plans to murder her husband, wealthy middle-aged arms dealer Simon Carala (Jean Wall).

It seems to be the perfect plan. Julien, who works for Carala, is a former paratrooper in the French Foreign Legion. He’s served in Indochina and Algeria, and his experiences have left him fit, bitter and more than capable of murder. Combined with the fact that he despises Carala for reaping fat profits from war, he also wants his boss’s wife, and so with the motive and justification, Julien now waits for the perfect opportunity. His proximity to Carala gives him that opportunity, but he needs an alibi.

Julien’s well mapped out plan depends on precision timing and easy access to Carala. Julien is supposedly working in his office with a secretary outside in the next room when he uses a grappling iron to climb up to Carala’s secured office. Here he murders Carala but stages the crime to look like a suicide. After positioning the body, he looks back at his work to check the details. As he looks at Carala’s corpse, a black cat–a portent of bad luck–passes in the background and walks along the railings of the high rise building. And this is the very last moment that events are in Julien’s control.

At this point in the film, the plot splinters into three segments–one segment follows Julien, another follows Florence as she wanders the streets of Paris, and another section of the plot follows the fate of two young Parisians who embark on a joyride that ends in murder. These components of the plot are then woven together to accentuate suspense and the idea that Julien and his lover, Florence are plagued with bad luck and ill-fated timing.

Elevator to the Gallows is an extremely clever, well-made film. Many crime films rely on coincidences that defy credibility, but Elevator to the Gallows is not formulaic and avoids coincidence by replacing it with sheer bad luck and ill-fated timing. The murder of Carala takes place efficiently and exactly as planned at the beginning of the film, but the scheme begins to unravel from the moment of Carala’s death. A plan is just a plan until a killer commits the irreversible act of murder, but once at the point of no return, a murderer has no choice but to try and repair a botched scheme. Julien’s decision to return to the crime scene is correct, but trying to repair the plan–once it’s gone awry–complicates matters, and the odds of Julien pulling off the murder successfully become slimmer as the night wears on. It’s a bitter irony that Julien’s sure-fire alibi will spring him from one murder scene but will land him firmly in another.

Florence is Julien’s partner in crime, yet interestingly, the film emphasizes Florence’s desperation and emotional fragility. These facets of her character are underscored by cinematographer Henri Decae’s naturalistic style. Accentuating her youth and vulnerability, the camera visualizes Florence as a delicate femme fatale shot in close-up, with her face without make up often filling the entire screen. As Florence wanders through the night looking for Julien, she’s wet and cold and takes shelter in a series of cafes where lone men sit and wait like predatory wolves. These camera techniques and plot devices place Florence in a sympathetic position of victim hood, and yet this is a woman who plots the murder of her husband and can’t wait to dash into her lover’s arms once the deed is done. This portrayal of Florence is in contrast to some of the greats in American noir that typically include a hard-edged dame whose plans to rid herself of the inconvenience of a husband do not include a lasting bond with the male tool who aids in the process (Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity, Jane Palmer in Too Late for Tears). While another infamous femme fatale, Cora Smith (Lana Turner) in The Postman Always Rings Twice appears to genuinely desire to be with hapless handyman Frank Chambers (John Garfield), there’s always the uncomfortable feeling that the lover she manipulates to set her free from the bonds of matrimony may very well just have been the first sap who walked through the door.

The camera also emphasizes space and distance–beginning with the film’s very first scene of the lovers who can connect only via telephone. Some of the most spectacular shots include the scene in which Julien drops a piece of lit paper down into the elevator shaft in an effort to judge the height of the stranded elevator car. Another brilliant scene involves Julien and two police interrogators as he is questioned in a room full of dark shadows and lit only by a single light bulb that dangles from the ceiling.

Anyone interested in noir or Jeanne Moreau, will find the film riveting. On top of that, the Criterion print looks great and is well worth the purchase.

Autumn tale (1998)

The Games People Play….

Autumn Tale (Conte d’Automne), set in France’s spectacular Rhone Valley, is the last of the Four Season films from director Eric Rohmer. Rohmer is one of my all-time favourite directors, and Autumn Tale is one of his best films. Rohmer excels at creating simple scenes and dialogue, and this is certainly true in this wonderful, deceptively simple film.

As with many Rohmer tales, this is a tableaux of relationships, and there are several relationships under scrutiny here. One of the relationships is between married bookseller Isabelle (Marie Riviere) and her childhood friend, vineyard owner, widow Magali (Beatrice Romand). As is so often the case with the happily married, Isabelle wants Magali to be equally happy and to get out into the world and find a man. While Magali acknowledges that she’s lonely and would like a relationship, she’s not comfortable in social settings. She thinks a romance will just ‘happen’ in spite of the fact that she leads an extremely isolated life.

Magali’s son, Leo (Stephane Darmon) is dating a bright, self-possessed young girl named Rosine (Alexia Portal). Leo isn’t Rosine’s usual ‘type’ and she acknowledges that he’s a “filler” to her much older ex-professor, Etienne (Didier Sandre). While Etienne would like his relationship with Rosine to become more, she flirts and plays fast and loose with Etienne–encouraging him and then in the next moment insisting that he find a woman his own age. Extremely flirtatious with Etienne, Rosine’s behavior could be categorized as conflicted or manipulative depending on just how generous you feel about her character. Subsequently, she decides to play matchmaker and bring Etienne and Magali together, and while this is really a ridiculous idea, it reveals a little more about Rosine’s motives.

In the meantime, Isabelle places a personal ad in the newspaper. Screening replies, she answers an ad from a divorced man named Gerald (Alain Libolt). Isabelle poses as Magali, and makes a series of dates without revealing the truth.

One of the reasons I love Rohmer films is the authenticity of his dialogue, and throughout the film it’s easy to imagine being in the same room with these fascinating, realistic characters as they play little psychological games with one another. While Isabelle ostensibly acts as a good, loyal friend by matching making for Magali, are her motives entirely pure? Does she enjoy playing with Gerald’s emotions? And what about Rosine? What sordid little game is she playing with Etienne and Leo?

Everything comes to a head at the wedding of Isabelle’s daughter, and there’s one great scene when Rosine assumes the nagging, jealous wife role to a disgruntled Etienne. Magali, who is supposedly the recipient of everyone’s best intentions, is the one person who has no clue what is going on. Through the matchmaking efforts of Isabelle and Rosine, the film creates some intriguing parallels. Both Isabelle and Rosine supposedly want to find a mate for Magali, and at the same time they both toy with the idea of love affairs with the men they find for Magali.

If you are a fan of Rohmer films, you may spot that Magali is the same actress who appeared 28 years earlier in Rohmer’s masterpiece (and my all-time favourite) Claire’s Knee in the role of Laura. It’s Beatrice Romand’s body language that gives her away. It amazing to see her in Claire’s Knee as a teen and then see her as a mature woman in Autumn Tale. This is a typically and deceptively simple Rohmer film, a perfect conclusion to Rohmer’s Four Seasons that resonates long after the credits roll.

Love Songs (1984)

“I wish they’d leave it to me.  I would fill the world with joy.  A safer place for girls and boys.”

I rented Love Songs (AKA Paroles et Musique) a 1984 film from director Elie Chouraqui based on the fact that it featured Catherine Deneuve. One of the leading lights of French cinema, Deneuve’s films tend to be decent productions–although the netflix viewer rating of two stars didn’t give me much optimism.

The film begins with Peter (Nick Mancuso), Margaux’s (Catherine Deneuve) wanker of an American husband. He’s packing and then leaves an empty house showing the odd visible facial expression indicating the twinge of regret. At this point, I thought he was being chucked out–especially since the film soon reveals that ‘workaholic’ Margaux is slaving away supporting Peter PLUS their two children (a very young Charlotte Gainsbourg is in the role as the troubled daughter). Peter, it turns out, is trying to finish his great novel, and for some unspecified reason, decides to leave his wife and kids, and return to America. Margaux gets the news bluntly delivered via a taped message. Charming.

But Margaux hardly misses a beat, and apart from a moment of angst as she listens to the message from her dearly departed husband, she leaps right back into the swim of things, and perhaps this is where the ‘workaholic’ accusation fits in. In her capacity as a talent agent, Margaux crosses paths with singing duo Jeremy (Christopher Lambert) and Michel (Richard Anconina). The two work as waiters and double as a café’s entertainment. But bear in mind that I use the term ‘entertainment’ loosely.

What follows is a lackluster love affair between Margaux and Jeremy. The affair draws Jeremy away from his close friendship with Michel. And when fame calls, well Jeremy has his obsession with Margaux to deal with. And Margaux’s heart apparently still belongs to her wanker husband.

Love Songs could have been a much better film. There are hints, for example, that Margaux is not just the workaholic her husband accuses her of being. This may be one of his excuses for leaving her, but then again since she is the sole support for the family, it’s difficult to take Peter’s accusation seriously. But what’s even more intriguing is the subtle, unexplored idea that Margaux prefers or even encourages her men to be dependent. At one point, for example, Jeremy begs for a night off from Margaux’s bed as he has an early audition the next day. Margaux, who is in the BIZ and should therefore be the one person on the planet who understands the delicacy of auditions, throws a little power-play fit and Jeremy gives in to her demands. This sets off a chain of events with severe ramifications in Jeremy’s relationship with Michel.

But the film doesn’t explore the subtler aspects of the relationships between Margaux and Jeremy, Margaux and Peter, Jeremy and Michel. Instead everything is clumsily done, perfunctory and we are ‘told’ specifics (Margaux is a workaholic, for example), and the plot’s subtler implications are left unexplored. The big passionate affair between Margaux and Jeremy is supposedly wild enough for him to take leave of his senses–temporarily at least, but somehow it’s just not convincing. Similarly Margaux’s relationship with Peter fails to convince. Here’s this man who gets on a plane and flies off leaving his wife in the lurch. Where is her anger? The dulled emotional response of these characters in the film (which after all is supposed to be a love story) left me wondering if the main characters have been lobotomized

And this brings me to the most painful part of the film: its music. Perhaps one of the reasons that the great love affair isn’t convincing is the terrible music churned out with nauseating regularity by Jeremy and Michel. Unfortunately since they insist in signing in English, the sickeningly sweet music is made vomit worthy by the truly atrocious lyrics. There’s a sample at the top of the page.” Again the film fails to convince me that these two crooners could possibly hold the attention of an adoring audience–let alone reach superstar status. In one scene, the crowd is screaming for more, and this just defies credibility. There are moments when the duo approach yet another mircophone, and I steeled myself, muttering, “bloody hell, not again!” But I suspect we were supposed to look forward to the musical moments and not fast forward them (as I did for sanity’s sake). On the whole, this is one of the worst French films I’ve ever seen. I think the netflix raters were too generous.

Gervaise (1956)

 ”You haven’t seen the last of me, Bitch.”

Gervaise, a 1956 film set in 19th century Paris is based on the Zola masterpiece L’Assommoir. The film’s main character is Gervaise Macquart (Maria Schell), a beautiful, blonde laundress whose wholesome youth and beauty is marred by a slight limp. When the film begins, Gervaise lives in a dingy room with her lover Lantier (Armand Mestral) and their two young sons. Even though they are not married, Gervaise calls herself Lantier’s wife unaware of the ridicule that this brings her behind her back.

Lantier, it seems, is in the throes of an affair with a neighbour. Everyone in the Parisian slum knows about it, and the news forms a sort of gossipy thrill which explodes into titillating entertainment one day when Gerviase fights with the other woman’s sister, Virginie (Suzy Delair). This incident has long-term ramifications for Gervaise. Eventually Gervaise moves on from her grief at losing Lantier and she meets and marries affable roofer Coupeau (Francois Perier).

At first Gervaise thrives in her marriage to Coupeau. They have a child together, Nana (Françoise Hery) and Gervaise has a goal of managing her own laundry. This dream is put on hold temporarily when Coupeau has an accident that takes away his ability to earn a living, but long-term, devoted friend Goujet (Jacques Harden) lends Gervaise the money, and she goes into business for herself. Gervaise’s troubles begin, although it takes her a long time to realize it, when Coupeau has his accident. Then the arrival of Virginie and the parasitic Lantier seals Gervaise’s fate.

The film, while good entertainment, unfortunately, falls short of Zola’s marvelous novel, L’Assommoir. In all fairness, I don’t think a film format (just under two hours) is the right setting for the novel. This needs to be a miniseries. Before watching the film, I was curious to see just how a film in the 50s would cope with some of the more salacious details of the novel–Gervaise’s peculiar domestic arrangement with Lantier and Coupeau, for example. The film chooses to gloss over much of this savage degradation and only lightly touches on the subject. Interestingly the film glosses over most of the book’s savagery: the viciousness of Gervaise’s former friends and neighbours, Gervaise’s slide into alcoholism (it’s touched on in the film) and her eventual wish for the oblivion of death. The film simplifies while avoiding the highly detailed feeding frenzy that takes place over Gervaise’s body and her ability to work–whereas the novel is wrenching in parts as it describes Gervaise’s gradual slide into degradation and oblivion.

The film from director Rene Clement tries to maintain a sense of faithfulness to the novel–it includes the wedding scene, for example, and Gervaise’s grand dinner for her ungrateful neighbours. But when it comes to showing the details of the viciousness of life among the working class, the film falls short. Perhaps it was considered too depressing to create a film that went into some much detail of the moral depravity and cruelty of its subjects–although the film does show in a couple of scenes how naughty Nana became while still just a wee tot. The film rather interestingly also accentuates the way that Lantier and Coupeau are somewhat similar types, but by glossing over the more sordid, savage aspects of the novel, the story loses its grandeur and becomes more of an average love story. What we need is a BBC miniseries or a French television miniseries to do Zola’s masterpiece justice.