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Film: White Material
Release date: 6th December 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 102 mins
Director: Claire Denis
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Isaach De Bankole, Christophe Lambert, Nicolas Duvauchelle, William Nadylam
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: France/Cameroon
In Claire Denis’ White Material (shot in Cameroon), themes of colonialism and rebellion collide within the context of an unspecified African nation. The film is, at times, deeply disturbing and shocking, and marks Denis’ filmmaking return to Africa (after previously studying themes of African colonialism in films such as her 1988 directorial debut Chocolat) whilst drawing on real-life experiences of growing up in the continent.
In the midst of a growing civil war in an unstable African state, coffee planter Maria Vial (Isabelle Huppert) faces a choice between leaving behind her way of life for her own (and her family’s) safety, or facing up to the terrible consequences of staying at the plantation.
Amidst scenes of violence, gang warfare and deadly weapon-wielding child soldiers, Maria’s immovable will compels her to stay, even when all the plantation workers desert her in fear of their lives. To compound this, Maria’s ex husband (Christopher Lambert) has his own plans to sell the plantation, while her idle son’s (Nicolas Duvauchelle) humiliation at the hands of child soldiers pushes him towards madness with horrendous consequences.
As tension in the surrounding area begins to grow, Maria’s protection of a wanted rebel officer, known as The Boxer (Isaach De Bankolé), invites even more danger into her domain…
In White Material, this imprecise state in Africa is one filled with post-colonial tension and rage; where violence and aggression can flare up without a moment’s notice, and rebels urge assault on any evidence of white imperialism. Director Claire Denis is hugely successful in creating a sense of foreboding throughout the film until the inevitable destruction and despair of the finale, and creates a number of unsettling set-pieces highlighting an area entrenched in destructive civil war.
For instance, the film contains shocking scenes of children and young men committing acts of brutality and bloodshed, acting on impulse in a lawless area for desperate personal gain. In one of White Material’s pivotal moments, Maria’s son Manuel is mercilessly humiliated at the hands of machine gun toting child militia. This sets him upon a path of despair, and his own ultimate destruction, enticing a strong performance from Nicolas Duvauchelle as a son in search of a twisted and psychologically flawed form of bloody revenge for being placed in a way of life he does not want.
Maria herself is a complicated character, where her motives for staying in the plantation are rather muddied. She is a woman who is aware of the tension and destruction heading towards her sanctuary, yet chooses to ignore the blatant danger to her own and her family’s life by staying on at the plantation (even at one point hurriedly burying out of sight a goat’s head thrown into a coffee crop yield as a purposefully disturbing warning). Huppert’s performance in the central role is therefore extremely intriguing, and may leave viewers torn in their sense of sympathy for a character who longs to keep hold of an increasingly threatened and fading way of life.
The native African cast are also very effective in their roles, with the child soldiers especially chilling in their seemingly endless quest for destruction. The portrayal of unrest and lawless brutality in the unnamed state is a brave one by Denis, adding to a sense of raw realism and unbridled ever-increasing danger not always present in the romanticised cinematography of mainstream film portrayals of Africa.
Yet, conversely, the failure to provide any real background or context in relation to the reasons behind the civil war gang uprising arguably reduces the impact of Denis’ analysis of post-colonial rebellion. In contrast to the mostly strong, if not occasionally murky motivations of the film’s characters, Christopher Lambert’s role feels somewhat extraneous in relation to proceedings. Indeed the film feels like a condensed or cut down version of a larger canvas, where fully formed plot points and characters, such as rebel hero The Boxer, appear to be less than the sum of the complete film. The finale, while climaxing in horrifically brutal fashion, subsequently feels somewhat rushed; with a final character action from Maria that might be interpreted as being either highly inconsistent with the character or a clever depiction of her own descent into the madness that consumed her son.
White Material is a worthwhile and thought-provoking film, even if it does not quite reach the full sum of its parts. Isabelle Huppert is intriguingly complex and engaging in the central performance, with Nicholas Duvauchelle also shining in a difficult role as a young man descending into darkness. DB
The regular army is preparing to re-establish order in the country. To clean up. To eliminate the rebel officer also known as The Boxer and rid the countryside of roving child soldiers. All the expatriates have gone home, getting out before things turn nasty.
Of the Vials – a coffee planting family, who have lived there for two generations – Maria (Huppert) stands firm. She’s not about to give in to rumours or abandon her harvest at the first sound of gunfire.
Just like her father-in-law and her ex-husband (Lambert), who is also the father of her son, she is convinced that Cherif, mayor of the neighbouring town, will protect them. If she asks him, he will save the plantation. He has a personal guard, a private militia of tough guys, heavily armed and well trained.
Isabelle Huppert was nominated for a Golden Lion at the 2009 Venice Film Festival for her captivating performance in this both beautiful and haunting film.
Film: White Material
Release date: 6th December 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 102 mins
Director: Claire Denis
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Isaach De Bankole, Christophe Lambert, Nicolas Duvauchelle, William Nadylam
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: France/Cameroon
DVD Special Features:
•
Interview with director Claire Denis
•
Theatrical trailer
Film: Villa Amalia
Release date: 4th October 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 94 mins
Director: Benoit Jacquot
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Jean-Hugues Anglade, Xavier Beauvois, Maya Sansa, Clara Bindi
Genre: Drama
Studio: Peccadillo
Format: DVD
Country: France/Switzerland
Benoit Jaquot directed this vague remake of Under The Tuscan Sun, giving the theme of ‘starting over’ an individualistic French twist, with the usually irreproachable Isabelle Huppert dominating the screen throughout.
Ann Hidden (Isabelle Huppert), a successful concert pianist, witnesses her long-term partner in the arms of another woman. In a knee jerk reaction, she immediately begins to dismantle not only her relationship with her partner, but her career and, indeed, her whole life. Ann cancels her concerts, with the obligatory burning of her photographs and even her sheet music. She sells her apartment and finally we see her three pianos taken away.
Whilst busying herself with this annihilation of her old life, she also revives a friendship with childhood friend Georges (Jean-Hugues Anglade). Georges vows to help her with her new life, and a bond re-establishes itself between them, as they are both bereaved in their different ways.
As Ann travels away from her old life, she changes her appearance, discarding the sophisticated French look for that of a more down to earth traveller - she cuts her hair, and, as she travels and changes, so her mood lightens.
On arrival in Italy, Ann rents an abandoned villa overlooking the sea – the Villa Amalia. Here Ann’s emotional rehabilitation can really begin.
There is an added twist when, having been rescued from the sea by Guilia (Maya Sansa), the two women begin an affair. However, the death of her mother forces Ann back to France to face not only the funeral, but also her long estranged father. Ann has to decide whether or not to stay in France, or go back to her new life in Italy…
For at least the first sixty minutes, this is a superbly melancholic film, with a sombre and even depressive atmosphere, as Ann undergoes the cathartic clearout of her life. This clearout is depicted in forensic detail, perhaps too much so – it isn’t really necessary to witness every word of the viewings of her apartment and conversations with the estate agent to understand what is happening.
The piano music Ann plays is edgy, disjointed and even uncomfortable to listen to, and is a good choice to reflect the character’s mental turmoil. The lighting is subdued and the acting low key without being superficial. Sometimes, however, being artistically disjointed can be taken too far – the scenes where Ann is making her way to Italy verge on the messy, and the images of Huppert trudging through the snow, and latterly the mountains, to get to her destination are not only superfluous but mildly comical.
Once in Italy, the plot becomes hurried. Ann’s relationship with Guilia is given short shrift, even though one would have thought that being able to forge a new relationship after her recent traumas would be a major event in the character’s life. Having said that, time is wasted on scenes such as those between Ann and the elderly woman who owns the Villa – the light-hearted treatment of their friendship simply doesn’t suit Huppert, who is infinitely better at depicting drama and angst than light humour or sentimentality. It’s possible that this lightening of the mood, used alongside more visually colourful scenes and brighter lighting – shots of the Italian coast in brilliant sunshine are the obvious example – is intended to show that Ann’s world is getting better, too, but it is clumsily done.
The film would have had a much better balance if less time was spent depicting Ann’s removal of herself from her old life, and more used to show the audience how she began her new life in Italy - and it would also have benefitted from sticking either to light humour or drama, instead of vaguely trying to mix the two genres. There are also unnecessary characters – it seems that the only purpose for Ann’s mother being in the plot is to give a reason for her to return to France later in the film, yet time is squandered on Ann’s trip to her mother’s seaside home, instead of exploring key relationships in the film.
Isabelle Huppert commands all one’s attention when on the screen, and in this film she looks fragile, introspective and otherworldly, even after her character reaches Italy. This is a restrained performance by Huppert, but one is not entirely sure if this is because she is deliberately holding back, or whether there is simply not enough substance in the film for her to display her talent. Any film starring Huppert has to be worth watching, and her ethereal beauty in this film does not disappoint, despite the vague regret that she is somehow wasted here. It is not the theme of failing relationships which lets her down, rather the poor structure and lack of emotional depth in the script that give her nothing to work with.
For anyone who is a fan of Huppert, this DVD will, of course, be a must-buy, and one that will be watched more than once for the sheer pleasure of her company. Otherwise, you will be left unfulfilled, despite the art house treatment of the theme. GR
Film: Home
Release date: 23rd August 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 98 mins
Director: Ursula Meier
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Olivier Gourmet, Adelaide Leroux, Madeleine Budd, Kacey Mottet Klein
Genre: Drama/Comedy
Studio: Soda
Format: DVD
Country: Switzerland/France/Belgium
Setting up home is the aspiration for most people – a place to unwind with a sense of personal security, and privacy from the outside world. But what happens when this peaceful haven is taken away after ten years of happiness?
Marthe & Michel, and their three children, live a fairly idyllic lifestyle, with their home situated next to an abandoned highway that they’ve converted into their personal playground (son Julien uses it as a bicycle race track, they play games of street hockey, whilst their property’s space is extended, using the highway to place furniture, a satellite dish and other items), and only a stone’s throw away from beautiful countryside.
However, the strength of this tightly knit family unit (they sit around the dining table to eat together, an increasingly rare occurrence today for busy and detached households – they even bath together!) is put to the test when the serenity of home is upset by the reopening of the road to which their house is in such close proximity…
Setting a light-hearted tone to the film early on (Julien is constantly fooling around, and there’s plenty of laughter), the director allows you to share in the family’s sense of wonder and intrigue, when they first become aware that the route, which will bring heavy traffic past their door, will soon be back in use. There is no official notice for the family – workers in high visibility overalls turn up, move their possessions off the road and block their point of entry with crash barriers (they do not speak, almost giving the impression of invaders from another world) – and only the father expresses any concerns initially, although he quickly falls into line (sleeping outside overnight in anticipation of the first car passing). The son stands outside and waves as they retarmac the road, using the road’s freshly painted white lines to decorate his face, whilst predicting the colour of the first passing car is turned into another family game.
It’s apparent, however, that not everything is as perfect as first impressions suggest. Early on, we see mother Marthe (Isabelle Huppert) almost forcing her reserved, younger daughter Marion (Madeleine Budd) into a bikini – a daughter whose melancholic nature and academic prowess go unnoticed or ignored, and who is told their home is “not a prison,” when she enquires why her mother hasn’t returned to work. We also see the adult daughter bathing naked (cigarette in hand) together with her brother, whilst both parents are present – and it’s in this situation that first indicators of the mother’s mental instability are revealed, as she holds back tears in distress at the thought of possibly having to move. She soon becomes dependent on the radio’s motorway updates, and is unable to even walk her children across the road.
Older daughter, Judith (Adélaïde Leroux) stays completely oblivious to changes in the status quo – initially set-up as the odd family member, you soon realise she is the most sane and stable person in this household. She drowns out events with loud thrash metal, and provides the film’s best comic moments – even with a constant stream of traffic passing by, she continues to sunbathe in next to nothing, aggressively gesturing at horn-tooting lorry drivers, and attracting a sizeable crowd when an accident causes the traffic to grind to a halt.
Whilst the father does his best to hold it together (though taking his children through drainage culvert, which passes beneath the road, when they are unable to navigate through heavy traffic almost proves too much), and appease the sleep deprived and increasingly worrying (at one point smothering her husband with a pillow) mother (from ear plugs to blocking up windows and doors with breeze blocks), the young daughter’s darker personality begins to infiltrate the son’s psyche. Soon paranoia levels are out of control – Julien wetting his bed and checking his “leading poisoning mark” in the early hours, his fears fed by a sister who covers herself head to toe (and uses a gas mask), checking the grass for toxins, and listing various illnesses they will soon suffer from due to the increased levels of pollution (including anorexia!).
With the family unable to cope with disruption to their previously exclusive lifestyle (Marthe can’t even cope with the thought of drivers sighting her underwear on the washing line), the slight uneasiness to the film’s early joviality takes a stranglehold, from darkly comic to outright eerie (the silence as the family creep around their freshly blocked up house) and upsetting – when the father decides enough’s enough, his attempts to remove his wife requires physical force in dramatic scenes that see her clawing to grab hold of furniture and fittings, and screaming, “leave if you want!” and “take them away!” (in reference to their children).
Director Ursula Meier maximizes the role of sound as the musical score alters with the change in the film’s mood. Early on Michel (the father, played by Olivier Gourmet) arrives home from work to upbeat jazz, and rather pleased with his lot, he taps his fingers across the dashboard. However, by the end we are coming to terms with recent events to the haunting voice of Nina Simone – the use of silence is also used effectively, breaking from the noise of the family/traffic to highlight the lost, dazed state the mother finds herself in.
The film’s evolution threatens a more harrowing conclusion, and arguably cops out. Viewers may feel the film’s abstract ending, open to personal summation, may suit, but others will cry out for the director to finish the job - and give them the ultimate payoff!
Though the director takes a fair few liberties with his artistic freedom in setting his one up, he never forgoes realism in its execution, whilst he cleverly handles your uncertainty till the very end. DH
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
Film: The Essential Claude Chabrol Vol.1
Release date: 26th April 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 302 mins
Director: Claude Chabrol
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Jean Poiret, Marie Trintignant
Genre: Thriller/Crime/Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: France
One of the founders of filmmaking in the French New Wave eram, Claude Chabrol has been active since the late-50s, winning the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival with just his second feature film, Les Cousins. His career has been a lengthy and prolific one, leading to his reputation as one of the greatest French film directors there has ever been. Artificial Eye’s recent release of The Essential Claude Chabrol Vol.1 marked the 80th birthday of the man, encompassing three films: the murder-mystery Inspecteur Lavardin (1986); the bleak character study Betty (1992); and the blackly comic Merci Pour Le Chocolat (2000), starring one of Chabrol’s favourite actors, Cesar-winner Isabelle Huppert.
The lesser-known Inspecteur Lavardin begins with the sinister discovery of a man’s slain corpse on the beach of a French coastal village, and the arrival of the Inspector assigned to the murder case.
Lavardin is in the Hercule Poirot mould of sleuth; arrogant, self-satisfied, and facetious in his methods, but nonetheless effective, uncovering a web of deceit and intrigue. Jean Poiret, previously Oscar-nominated for his writing work on musical La Cage Aux Folles, plays the titular officer, and is clearly revelling in the outspoken nature of his authoritarian figure.
What develops is a solidly watchable mystery, the aftermath of the murder of Raoul casting into doubt the legitimacy of his marriage to Hélène (Bernadette Lafont), as well as suggesting her possible motives for killing him. Also suspected is Helene’s gay brother Claude, who admittedly thought Raoul contemptuous of him, his sexuality, and his involvement with amateur dramatics.
By contrast, Betty never quite attains as light a tone as Inspecteur Lavardin, since it essentially focuses on the mystery surrounding one woman and her ambivalence towards commitment.
It is a tragedy of sorts, charting the descent of bourgeois housewife and mother Betty Etamble into alcoholism and depression following her failed marriage to husband Guy.
A chance encounter in a bar leads her into a friendship with Laure (Chabrol’s ex-wife Stéphane Audran), who gets Betty a room in her hotel and attempts to guide her back onto the straight-and-narrow.
The film flits back and forth in time, between Betty as a singleton, an adulteress, and finally as a divorcée. The late Marie Trintingnant gives a devastating performance as the troubled woman, offering multiple facets of her character’s unnervingly self-destructive lack of worth. A tour-de-force for the ages.
Certainly, at least, of more recent times, Merci Pour Le Chocolat is one of Chabrol’s most famous works - a frothy tale of family secrets, child complexes, and jealous chocolatiers.
Famous pianist André Polonski (Jacques Dutronc) is taken aback when approached by a young woman named Jeanne, who is told by her mother that when she was born the hospital first identified her as the daughter of the Polonski family. The fact that Jeanne is an aspiring pianist also lays claim to the possibility of her as a relative, a suggestion not entirely welcomed by Andre’s new wife Mika (Isabelle Huppert), who herself comes from a family famous for its confectionery.
What ensues is a slow-burning chronicle of a family harbouring deep resentment, inevitably culminating in dramatic revelations…
Chabrol’s upfront style, while brave and novel, can often translate as disingenuous. Inspecteur Lavardin and its wry tone, perhaps most blatantly, demonstrates Chabrol’s tendency to deal with serious issues matter-of-factly - the camp interplay the Inspector engages in with various characters far too distracting, and heavily indulgent of the film’s whimsical tone. One often feels as if Chabrol is deliberately alienating his characters to illicit moral guffaw, deriving comedy from injustice, the absence of serious conflict where many would think there should be.
In Merci Pour Le Chocolat, the early confession by Jeanne’s mother that they might not actually be related is divulged over a lunch the pair have with friends, and there is no attempt to address the pain both would feel if this turned out to be true. Chabrol generates comedy from melodrama without really attuning his characters to this style, or suggesting why Jeanne has her head in the clouds, completely unfazed by this early setback that she marches up to Polonski’s door with not a moment’s consideration.
Both Merci and Inspecteur Lavardin feel particularly contrived to deliver plot mechanics, allowing the actors in them to be engulfed but never really part of that mystery, to the extent where you guage their self-conscious bemusement with the attention-sought - harsh realities of Chabrol’s approach to themes of family, trust, and guilt.
Betty is all the more successful because Chabrol affords Trintingnant more of an opportunity to work with Betty, to characterise and humanise, than he does with his other leads.
As a character, Betty isn’t essentially dissimilar in her apparent self-awareness, but Trintingnant is able to allude to this as a fixture of the woman’s inherent sexualisation, disguising the true intent of Betty’s confessional monologues as a flimsy way of developing the character. Still, Chabrol has enough of a handle on the film as a tragedy, and produces a woman’s picture the likes recently seen in the Italian I Am Love, where he expresses that guilt can go both punished and unpunished.
The three films share common themes and traits which make the decision to collate them into a trio comprehensible. However, the decision to band together tarter, more cynical works that represent neither the nature nor the quality of his career is in danger of doing the man a grave disservice. CR
Film: The Sea Wall
Release date: 8th March 2010
Certificate: 12
Running time: 111 mins
Director: Rithy Panh
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Gaspard Ulliel, Astrid Berges-Frisbey, Randal Douc, Vanthon Duong
Genre: Drama
Studio: Axiom
Format: DVD
Country: France
An adaptation of Marguerite Duras' autobiographical novel of the same name, The Sea Wall chronicles the influential novelist and film director’s childhood in Cambodia.
The Duras family are living in Cambodia after buying land to farm rice. After the death of their father, the family are under constant strain with the children, Suzanne and Joseph, who threaten to leave their sick mother to look after the farm on her own. The crops end up to be trouble, as they are flooded by the sea tides, endangering the family's livelihood. As times worsen - getting turned down by the bankers and receiving threats from the French authorities who intend to seize their land, the family has to start taking drastic measures to support themselves.
With the arrival of a wealthy businessman, who takes a shine to Suzanne, the youngest of the family, they use the opportunity to take advantage for their own personal gain. However, relations between the French and the natives are worsening, and so is the mother’s health, as they try to construct a wall in order to protect from the threat of the sea tides. All the while, Joseph grows increasingly frustrated with home, and his rebellious streak is harder and harder to suppress…
From the very start of The Sea Wall, it is easy to tell that it is an adaptation - it lacks the pace, structure and story arc of a cinematic creation. It feels very accurate in the sense of a biographical tale, sticking to the point of view of the family as a run of anecdotal events that changed their future, and I'm sure as a work of literature this would be quite interesting, but it doesn't truly translate to the screen.
The start of The Sea Wall feels like it is drawing into a story of man-versus-nature, overcoming the odds, or at least trying to in order to rebuild a destroyed livelihood. It opens with some fantastic shots of the Cambodian scenery and the family's destroyed crops, and the promise of a tearjerker, set to the beautiful backdrop and landscape. The problem comes from its roots as a biographical adaptation in that the focus is solely on the family - the more interesting story would be that of the natives who are employed by the rich French landowners.
The story is reliant on the fact that the family are meant to be on the edge of their means - only just scraping by, and pushed to breaking point. As it is, though, they are getting by all right. They have a leaky roof, and they are quite miserable, but they are still going to the bar everyday drinking champagne, being waited on hand and foot by their workers, spending days working on cars, and mixing with the rest of the wealthy elite. There is just an overall atmosphere of malaise and misery that seems to run through the entire film that is so completely unemotional and cold. The mother, for example, angry at seeing the natives’ way of life being torn apart, has a completely dead and unemotional demeanour, understanding that she is not a well woman, lacking energy and beaten down by her troubles, it is still hard to identify with her
When there is the introduction of Monsieur Jo, a wealthy Chinese businessman who takes a shine to Suzanne, it is the family's intention to marry them off together in order to inherit his money and solve their problems. This relationship is cringingly cold and one sided, and it’s difficult to watch as a grown man makes his sexual advances on a 16-year-old girl, whilst all the time she is being taunted and teased by what seems to be pushing towards an incestuous brother/sister relationship. This is definitely the most interesting element of the film, but never delves far enough.
All this time, with the family seemingly whoring out their daughter, the son’s frustratingly smouldering rebellious antics, and the mother’s unenthusiastic anger, the natives are partaking in the most interesting element of the whole story as a very brief and occasional sub-plot. The sea wall, from which the film takes its title, seems to just appear out of nowhere, with no input from the family - simply all the native workers slaving away as the family did nothing to contribute. That seems to be the general perception - the family have things happen to them and do things that should have some consequence (they are thieves, adulterers and frauds), yet there are no repercussions.
Add to all this the fact that for a medium budget film with so many resources in the way of props, costumes and locations, the cinematography is boring. A point and click attitude to filming which feels so detached and lifeless.
If you have a particular interest in the life of Marguerite Duras then I'm sure there are many elements of The Sea Wall that could be enjoyed. As a cinematic experience, however, it falls very short of being engaging and interesting, saved only by the feel of true accuracy to the times and source material. JP
Film: Slow Motion
Release date: 23rd January 2006
Certificate: 18
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Jean-Luc Goddard
Starring: Isabelle Huppert, Jacques Dutronc, Nathalie Baye, Roland Amstutz, Cécile Tanner
Genre: Drama
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: DVD
Country: France
Slow Motion, by Jean-Luc Goddard, saw the French auteur return to his day job after a hiatus of several years. It is a sparse and reflective work concerned with three people as they reach a crossroads in their lives - a bare-boned narrative on which a stylistically intriguing film is hung.
The story, what there is of it, is a simple one. Denise, played by Nathalie Baye, is trying to leave the trappings of city life behind her as she trades her car for a bicycle and moves to the country. Preventing her from that closure is a former boyfriend Paul, Jacques Dutronc. He is a cigar smoking television producer who has a daughter, Cecile, from a previous, turbulent, relationship and a myriad of emotional problems. Finally, Isabelle, played by a glacial Isabelle Huppert, is a young prostitute who is trying to stay afloat in a world dominated by aggressive pimps and demanding clients.
The narrative develops little beyond that - or rather it does not dwell or over-dramatise key plot points. That is not the film’s primary concern. Paul ends up meeting and paying to sleeping with Isabelle, unbeknownst to Denise, although the event holds no ramifications for the rest of the story. Isabelle’s younger sister pays to visit the city with the intention of raising her boyfriend’s bail money by going on the game and Paul’s relationship with his daughter deteriorates throughout, culminating in her complete disinterest when he is knocked down on a busy street. Goddard seems almost contemptuous of the details, but in this film, they really never seem to be the point…
Whilst the storytelling is functional, stylistically it shines. From the beautiful rural vignettes that frame Denise and her bicycle, to a world of perfect spaces - colour-coded hotel rooms and marbled lobbies, inhabited by Isabelle and Paul. Expertly composed, often static, shots that hold their gaze on the subject mercilessly. Goddard lets beauty wilt and shine accordingly. The titular slow motion is used often - not in a smooth, ballet-like movement but in jarring, staccato bursts. It produces an alienating effect; it severs the audience’s emotional ties in what could be considered the film’s heaviest-hitting scenes. It is as if Goddard is at pains to remind you that he is control of what you see, and how you perceive it. A director who is not afraid of letting the wires show.
In the sound design, it is where he really flaunts convention, deconstructing established ideas of film scoring, replacing one with a fragmented synthesizer refrain that enters and exits scenes, running from one to the next, interrupting dialogue with a complete disregard cinematic traditions. In the film’s punch line, this piece is reprised by a full orchestra, playing on screen, in an alleyway. A comment on the obligations of a filmmaker to commit musical clout to a major moment? A surreal jibe at the artifice of soundtracks? Regardless, it serves to jolt you from the action, and it is here where the film’s major failings lie. A lack of emotional investment resulting from a lack of emotional engagement.
In typical Goddard fashion, although it could be argued it is a noticeable feature of New Wave French cinema, the principal characters are hyper-eloquent, monologue-prone, mouth-pieces through which the writer/director can philosophise. In Slow Motion, this often makes for exquisite, illuminating dialogue on the nature of transience and change, but it also renders the characters as somewhat one-dimensional. Jacques Dutronc is convincing enough as what could be considered the film’s antagonist, at once reptilian and charming. Nathalie Baye plays it straighter, although has less presence on-screen. No one character is particularly likeable, or well-rounded, and their motivation is vague at best. When Isabelle is bought into a series of strange and demeaning, although not violent or graphic, sexual acts they provide the film’s biggest laughs. Although there is sense of jeopardy in these movements, you are never moved to genuine concern or attachment. There is something stilted and staged to these scenes that carries more thematic than emotional weight.
Slow Motion is a clever film, full of writing both rich and labyrinthine. It plays a game between its characters who hear the splintered refrains of a soundtrack and comment on it. The slow, meticulous editing is refreshed with smart cutaways and the bold use of freeze frames. It is, at times, a very funny film that on occasion is not above laughing at itself.
For all Goddard’s assured artistic flair, the film stumbles in several key areas. The dialogue sometimes gets dragged down in its own lofty aspirations. Conversely it sometimes across as squeamishly misjudged when trying to be provocative. The performances are never completely successful and the strength of character writing isn’t strong enough to make up the ground.
A beautiful, brisk, film (a brief 84 minutes) that certainly invites a number of viewings and interpretations. It is just a shame that such a carefully constructed film struggles to make you care about it.
