Showing posts with label Benoit Magimel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Benoit Magimel. Show all posts
REVIEW: Cinema Release: Little White Lies
Film: Little White Lies
Release date: 15th April 2011
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 154 mins
Director: Guillaume Canet
Starring: Marion Cotillard, François Cluzet, Benoit Magimel, Gilles Lellouche, Laurent Lafitte
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: Cinema
Country: France
In 2006, Guillaume Canet took the world by storm with his astoundingly successful thriller Tell No One. This sophomore film by the young director introduced not only himself but modern French cinema to a much wider audience. As such the film’s popularity (both critically and financially) led many critics to predict a ‘new wave’ of the French Nouvelle Vague to resurge upon our shores – which to an extent it did with films such as, Diving Bell & the Butterfly, Mesrine and I’ve Loved You So Long all faring relatively well. Canet’s much anticipated follow up, Little White Lies was the second highest grossing film in France last year (only just behind Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows). Yet with its tremendously inward looking and nationalistic blend of comedy and drama, will this charming expose of the laboured friendship of eight wealthy friends resonate with the same widespread success over here or remain one strictly for British Francophiles?
We join these carefree socialites just days before departing on one of their ritual summer vacations. But when a sudden horrific traffic accident lands one of their party in intensive care (Ludo) they find their plans have to be reassessed. As he fights for his life, his friends have a seemingly difficult decision to make. Do they stay and watch over their seriously ill friend, or instead leave him, and go ahead with their original plans anyway? They soon convince themselves that by cutting short their break by a couple of weeks, they’ll be able to get the much needed rest they feel they deserve, whilst being back in time to tend to Ludo once he regains consciousness. It’s a choice that many would frown upon, and as events unfold, it would appear they’d be correct. This decision soon becomes a classic example of ‘an elephant in the room’ as it slowly starts to over-shadow any enjoyment that is to be had, gradually illuminating the Little White Lies that threaten to tear apart the fragile fibres holding the group together.
The holiday is funded by Max (Francois Cluzet), something of an older brother figure to the group, who allows his younger acquaintances to gallivant around his opulent beach house, eat from his bountiful fridge, and take trips into town on his lavish power boat. It all sounds rather generous, until you realise he seizes any opportunity to make this fact abundantly clear to the eternal teenagers he chooses to mingle with. It’s at these strikingly charmless moments that we begin to realise that this high strung restaurant owner is purely obsessed with material wealth, and masks his egotistical desire to be respected with hand-outs and charity.
Also amongst this selection of the crème-de-la-crème of French acting talent we have Marie (played by recent Hollywood leading lady, and Guillaume Canet’s wife, Marion Cotillard), a pot smoking, heavy drinking, self-proclaimed ethnologist, whose penchant to study others is no more than an attempt to prevent studying herself. She’s a perfect example of the emotional damage which can be caused by continually putting off tomorrow.
Next there’s Eric (Gilles Lellouche), a failing actor who softens the crippling effects of his faltering career by pursuing a life of infidelity. Yet, when his girlfriend breaks up with him after her attempts to garnish a little more commitment from him fail, he struggles to truly convey his heartbreak, instead hiding behind the same persona he has created to mask his other numerous shortcomings...
What unravels is a thoughtful, unashamedly sentimental and genuine film about friendships and family ties. This seemingly cluttered cast, at first, look like nothing more than superficial, pretentious clichés of the modern French bourgeoisie society. An example of those who have disregarded their traditional family values in favour of a lifestyle fuelled solely by desires of the flesh and an apparent need to escape the hardships of life through a state of constant inebriation. Yet, somehow, despite the apparent detached moods of each character, director Guillaume Canet manages to shine a light on the inner beauty inside all of them. This is achieved through a subtle use of elegantly framed and perfectly timed close ups, combined with some incredibly evocative and sincere dialogue.
The pivotal and shrewd role of Jean-Louis (the oyster farmer) should also not be forgotten. He is more than just a periphery character, but instead an important voice of reason and statue of moral purity with which to both judge, and then lead the group to redemption. He is our window into this world of opulence, like an ambassador for many of us viewing who fail to feel sorry for these spoilt, immature and quite abhorrently melodramatic characters. It’s partly down to the inclusion of this divisive role that makes Canet sprawling character drama a successful searching piece of film, which, regardless of class or age, takes you on a journey to the extremes of human emotions.
There’s an obvious nod towards films such as The Big Chill, Mes Meilleurs Copains and Un Elephant ca Tromp Enormement, but Canet openly admits these sources of inspiration, and has stated that he was always attempting to make a “friends movie.” His achievement in creating some of the most magnificently realistic looking friendships to ever grace the big screen is worthy of the highest praise. Apparently this feat was produced by insisting that all cast members spend two weeks prior to filming at the cabin the film was to be shot. He wanted them to learn each other’s mannerisms, as well as seemingly minute details, like where the knives and forks were kept. It clearly works, and at no point should you ever feel like you’re watching actors ‘pretending’ to get along. It’s this natural feeling atmosphere which ensures that the emotive traps set throughout the course of the film are truly effective.
With a runtime of 154 minutes, Little White Lies is perhaps guilty of being a little too self-indulgent. Some of the scenes are strung out far too long, giving the impression that the cast were having far too much fun filming to take into consideration the dwindling attention span of the audience. However, a film with such an extensive list of high profile stars was always going to be accused of either being too long, or guilty of under developing characters. The closing third, unfortunately, does suffer mildly because of this, and as tempers begin to flare and lessons start to be learnt, the impact is slightly diluted - Canet’s lofty ambition to tie up the high volume of loose ends results in an ever so slightly clumsy, and toothless final act.
As with his previous directorial work, Canet also still seems determined to show off his expansive record collection, through a heavy-handed use of non-diegetic sound. It’s used in an attempt to help amplify the feeling of certain scenes, and evoke a stronger emotional reaction than perhaps he feels comfortable achieving through simple dialogue and framing alone. It’s a negative viewpoint that’s incredibly subjective. Depending on your musical tastes, it’ll either come across as ingenious or momentarily cringe worthy. Yet a film built on a strong foundation of meticulous character development, viscerally beautiful cinematography and such rich ideas, as are present here, shouldn’t need such un-subtle devices to enhance the mood of key moments.
Like a modern day sitcom, but without the furious pace and mainstream sensibilities, Little White Lies may lack the thrill a minute, breakneck action of Tell No One, but is certainly no worse a film for it. What could have been a cluttered, pompous mess of a drama is instead an accomplished and immersive (if perhaps overly long) subtle blend of genuinely, laugh out loud comedy and effectively moving tragedy. Little White Lies will ultimately leave you feeling emotionally exhausted by the end - regardless of whether you’re an auteur of French cinema or not. PG
NEWS: Cinema Release: Little White Lies
From the prolific César winning director who gave us Tell No One this intimate study of friendship and humanity brings together a truly exceptional ensemble cast; including the Academy and BAFTA award winning actress Marion Coutillard; and the César ‘Best Actor’ award winner François Cluzet.
Walking the fine line between laughter and tears Canet directs some of France’s most skilful performers to deliver startlingly intimate performances. As we learn of each character’s flaws we also understand the bond between the friends, and recognise ourselves in them.
Every year Max (François Cluzet), a successful restaurant owner, invites his family and friends to his beautiful beach house. This year, before they leave Paris, one of the group (Jean Dujardin) is seriously hurt in a traumatic accident. The friends decide to go ahead with their holiday, but the accident sets off a dramatic chain of reactions and emotional responses.
The eagerly anticipated vacation leads each of the protagonists in turn to raise the veil that for years has covered their true feelings. Their relationships, convictions and friendships are sorely tested when finally forced to own up to the little white lies they have been telling each other.
Film: Little White Lies
Release date: 15th April 2011
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 154 mins
Director: Guillaume Canet
Starring: Marion Cotillard, François Cluzet, Benoit Magimel, Gilles Lellouche, Laurent Lafitte
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Studio: Lionsgate
Format: Cinema
Country: France
REVIEW: DVD Release: The Piano Teacher

Film: The Piano Teacher
Release date: 27th May 2002
Certificate: 18
Running time: 129 mins
Director: Michael Haneke
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Annie Girardot, Benoît Magimel, Susanne Lothar, Udo Samel
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: Austria/France/Germany
Austrian director Michael Haneke wants to provoke you. Having challenged his viewers about the morality of horror movies in his 1997 film Funny Games, Haneke tackles the subject of repressed sexual desires and sadomasochism in The Piano Teacher (or La Pianiste), based on the novel by Elfriede Jelinek.
Isabelle Huppert plays Erika Kohut, a stern and abrasive woman in her early forties, who teaches piano and still lives – and shares a bed - with her overbearing mother, played by Annie Girardot, in their suffocating apartment. The opening scene shows the two characters in violent conflict with one another when Erika is scorned by her mother for returning home late.
Initially Erika appears cold and socially isolated, with little outside her musical interests – she is nothing more than a loner, if a formidable one. We learn that her father went mad, yet as the film continues there are glimpses into what is clearly a darker story. She goes to a peep show in a sex shop and, in an even more uncomfortable scene in the bathroom; she cuts herself between the legs whilst her mother calls out from the other room to tell her that dinner is ready. Beneath the strict composure lays inner torment and repressed longing. She is also fiercely jealous and resentful; at one point crushing a glass and pouring it into the coat pocket of one of her pupils.
The protagonist is introduced to a self-assured young student Walter Klemmer, who takes a shine to Erika, and auditions to join her music class. After much resistance on her part, he is accepted onto the course, where he pursues his teacher’s affections, and a relationship starts to develop. But Kohut only wants this on her terms and intends to list all her sexual desires in a letter to Klemmer for him to peruse at his leisure. The way he reacts, and the actions taken after, plunges the film into even more disturbing territories…
Isabelle Huppert is magnificent in the role of Kohut, portraying all the tortuous complexities of this character with real conviction. There is a wonderful scene where she watches Klemmer play during his audition - you see her trying to maintain her composure, yet little twitches in her facial expressions give away all the anguish and emotion raging inside her. There is great chemistry with Benoit Magimel, also strong in the role of Klemmer, who is convincing as the young man who is frustrated and frankly baffled by this perplexing woman. Both lead actor and actress received awards at Cannes.
Haneke always seems to cause a stir at Cannes, audiences famously walked out of the screening of Funny Games and this later, though equally controversial, film won the Grand Prix prize. The director seems to enjoy provoking a reaction from his audiences, testing their moral boundaries, but perhaps trying a little too hard to do so at times. He also leaves films widely open for interpretation, allowing audiences to make up their own minds, but also leaving them frustratingly lost for answers. Watching a Michael Haneke film can sometimes feel like being repeatedly prodded in the arm for two hours without explanation.
There is a lot which should be credited to this film, such as the fascinating development of relationships between the characters, and the classical soundtrack which binds the whole thing together. The use of music, particularly composers such as Schubert, is essential to the film, and communicates the mood as brilliantly as Isabelle Huppert’s facial expressions.
But, at one point, when Erika rolls on top of her mother in bed, it was hard to see how much further the film could push the boundaries. In fact, after the initial shock, the next reaction it provokes is laughter – and a hysterical kind of laughter. There is a truly hilarious moment when Klemmer picks up the letter detailing all of Kohut’s sexual requests to which he responds, “Heavy.” It may ease the discomfort, but the comedy found during even the film’s darkest moments seems out of place.
The Piano Teacher really is a powerful piece of work, as collectively interesting and disturbing as Erika Kohut’s toolkit. It’s just a shame that Haneke feels he has to hammer away at the audience to such an extent. KB
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