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Film: Men For Sale
Year of production: 2008
UK Release date: 23rd May 2011
Distributor: Bounty
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 145 mins
Director: Rodrigue Jean
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Canada
Language: French
Review by: J Michael Bradley
Rodrigue Jean is a man with a career so varied you could almost label him a polymath. A student of biology, sociology and literature, he originally trained as a dancer and choreographer. After dabbling in a few shorts, he made three features in a decade, melodramas all. He has now turned his considerable talent in an altogether different direction.
Action Séro Zéro is a Montreal community organisation providing free healthcare and HIV prevention services. They helped to give Rodrigue Jean access to some of their clients, to better cast a light on the work, experiences and history.
The film follows the lives of eleven men who sell themselves to make, or rather scrape, a living. Filming for hundreds of hours over the course of a year, and working with a skeleton film crew to gain the men's trust, Jean has distilled the footage down to an eye-opening two hour documentary.
These young men have resorted to prostitution to dull pain, feed drug habits and exist on the outer fringes of society. Mindful of the stigma they attract, Jean merely points the camera and lets these people talk. Presenting the film chronologically, we are asked to enter their world...
The documentary has come of age in recent years, the best known examples by the like of Morgan Spurlock (Supersize Me and the forthcoming The Greatest Movie Ever Sold) and Werner Herzog (Grizzly Man and the recent Cave Of Forgotten Dreams) garnering plaudits, awards and, most importantly, audiences. Enron: The Smartest Guys In The Room (2005) shows just what a powerful film can be made with an interesting subject, lots of talking heads and great editing. Rodrigue Jean clearly aspires to make a thought provoking, provocative film, wanting us to see and hear harrowing stories and individuals whilst hoping that we don't simply turn off. The stated aim was to make an “unflinching portrait with neither voyeurism nor false sympathy, (that) acknowledges those society prefers to ignore.” Quite what would constitute false sympathy is unclear, for the stories told here, chronologically over a year, are, for the most part, potentially some of the saddest you are ever likely to hear.
Eleven main subjects are too many for the viewer to develop any sort of bond or, indeed, coherence of narrative with. Jean has opted not to caption any of the participants and with the free-flow, year in the life style he adopts, some appear far more regularly than others and you are left wondering, at times, who is whom and what it is they've experienced since you last saw them. This lack of information is, perhaps, indicative of Jean's desire to maintain the distance, and keep himself and the viewer free from the voyeurism and false sympathy he is so keen to avoid, but it sure does make it very confusing and hard to follow.
Of course, you do have sympathy. It would be a cold-hearted viewer who wouldn't - although some may find their compassion straining when one of the young men gets some money, spends it immediately on jewellery and a phone, only to sell these hours later to buy drugs. That he has a child on the way could also cause you to hold a somewhat stronger opinion of him, but Jean would rather you just watch and take it all in.
On the whole, most of the subjects are quite unlikeable and almost certainly unlikely to elicit much in the form of empathy. The exception is the funny and likeable Danny Brown who's in his forties, not his twenties. Possessed of an older head on broader shoulders, Danny used to be a porn star in straight, bi and gay movies and now makes his living performing for a few hundred dollars in the occasional gonzo porn flick, as well as servicing clients in his modest home, still trading on his little bit of fame. He's honest and funny, but also in the film the least, which is a real shame. He brings some very welcome light relief to the proceedings.
Men For Sale does feel like a bit of a lost opportunity. You could argue that a subject matter such as this demands the totally neutral approach, allowing the viewer to hear these stories and make their own conclusions without them being tainted from the off by the filmmaker. That's okay for nature documentaries, but the human story, in all its guises, demands a human approach. At almost two-and-a-half hours, it’s literally too long by half.
Worthy, honest and unflinching, Men For Sale is ultimately cold, harrowing and hard to connect with. These are stories, situations and individuals who need society to cast a mirror at them. This is not that film. And it’s very long. A missed opportunity. JMB
Film: Les Diaboliques
Year of production: 1955
UK Release date: 25th April 2011
Distributor: Arrow
Certificate: 12
Running time: 114 mins
Director: Henri-Georges Clouzot
Starring: Simone Signoret, Véra Clouzot, Paul Meurisse, Charles Vanel, Jean Brochard
Genre: Crime/Drama/Horror/Mystery/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: France
Language: French
Newly BFI restored, Les Diaboliques is based on a book by Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac that Hitchcock tried, and failed, to option first. Clouzot’s film, techniques and tropes have been used and re-used so many times it could almost be a ‘best-of’ mystery/thriller show reel were it not for the fact that it came first nigh-on sixty years ago.
Michel (Paul Meurisse) is the headmaster of a boys’ boarding school owned by his wife Christina (Véra Clouzot). Michel rules the roost with an iron fist, causing Christina and his mistress Nicole (Simone Signoret), also a teacher, to plot murder together.
Luring him to Nicole’s house, they drug and drown him in the bathtub, returning the body to the school to deposit in the filthy swimming pool, thereby making it seem like an accident and giving them an alibi.
Conspiring to have the pool drained when Michel’s disappearance is noticed, they find the body has disappeared. Utterly adrift in a nightmare of their own making, they slowly begin to question their own sanity…
There is an old adage that you should never meet your heroes for they can never live up to your expectations - you’ll be left disappointed and disillusioned. The same argument can be applied to classic films whose names, plots and reputation are incredibly familiar, even if you’ve never got round to seeing the actual movie. How could that first viewing possibly rise to the stellar heights built up in your own head? Les Diaboliques can and does, and rewards even after multiple viewings. It also happens to be an excellent forensic wander into the DNA of virtually any and every thriller that has come since. You want to know one of the main reasons Hitchcock made Psycho and set the main, now infamous, scene in the shower? It’s because of the bathtub scenes in Les Diaboliques and his failure to get the rights to the Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac novel. You want to know why he later made Vertigo? It’s because, still smarting, he bought the rights to another Boileau-Narcejac novel (D’entre les morts) that formed the basis of the famous Jimmy Stewart starrer. Perhaps you’re a fan of M. Night Shyamalan’s unique blend of taught bluffs and double bluffs (well, at least his earlier output)? The man was simply following in the very well tread footsteps laid down here. Perhaps most intriguingly, perennial Peter Falk detective Columbo was born here; the creators of that famously crumpled detective simply took the character of Alfred Fichet, played by Charles Vanet, and made him American (if Inspector Fichet had uttered “just one more thing” in Les Diaboliques, it would have seemed quite natural).
All of this would merely be an interesting little history lesson for an old style, old fashioned black & white flick made in the 1950s were it not for the fact that Les Diaboliques still holds the power to enthral, chill and shock. Clouzot moves through and blends together genres that, on paper, you wouldn’t think could work together. It opens as a melodrama involving the ménage à trois of Michel, Christina and Nicole, before moving on to film noir, as the ladies plot and execute murder. After that, we’re into psychological thriller territory before landing firmly in horror. That these disparate styles are married so effortlessly, so seamlessly, is nothing short of miraculous. It’s sometimes tried today, particularly in Hollywood, and the clunking mess that always results can make you think that you’ve experienced some amateur, YouTube mash-up. Here, it’s just wonderful. It may also come as a surprise that Les Diaboliques can still shock and send shivers down the spine. The ending in particular, justly famous, is a lesson in restrained scares that can still make you jump, and whilst creaking doors, dark corners and visceral shocks are so par for the course these days as to be boring, Les Diaboliques is anything but.
Clouzot gained a reputation as the French Hitchcock, but it’s one forged on this film and this film alone. He was not against using what were, to some, low-rent tricks to get publicity for Les Diaboliques, such as refusing late comers into theatres and urging viewers, right before the end title sequence, not to tell their friends the ending. Interestingly, and far more famously, Hitchcock used both gimmicks on Psycho five years later. Perhaps we should have been referring to Hitchcock as the American Couzot all these years?
A masterclass in storytelling, twists and chills, Les Diabolique has lost none of its power in the preceding fifty-plus years. Atmospheric, scary and shocking, it’s the father of modern, twisty thrillers. JMB
Film: Ponyo
Release date: 7th June 2010
Certificate: U
Running time: 97 mins
Director: Hayao Miyazaki
Starring: Yuria Nara, Hiroki Doi, Jôji Tokoro
Genre: Animation
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD & Blu-ray
Country: Japan
Hayao Miyazaki’s eighth film for Studio Ghibli, and his tenth overall, Ponyo is perhaps his most successful export to the West. Eschewing the now almost ubiquitous CGI, Miyazaki instead concentrates on the (almost lost) art of hand drawn animation and, at 76, shows no sign of slowing down.
Ponyo, a Princess goldfish born from a union of sea wizard Fujimoto and Earth queen Gran Mamare, has one dream – to be human. Escaping to the surface atop a jellyfish, she becomes trapped in a bottle and is rescued by Sōsuke, a 5-year-old boy who lives on the coast with his seafaring father and harassed mother.
Instantly smitten with each other, Ponyo is quickly returned to her father by powerful wave spirits he has summoned. Undeterred, she uses her father’s magic to transform fully into a human and escape once more, unwittingly releasing these powers into the ocean. This magic has a dramatic effect, summoning monstrous prehistoric creatures to swim the waters once more, the moon to move closer to the earth and tsunamis with their resulting floods to swamp the area…
For those of you not familiar with Japanese animation in general or the revered Hayao Miyazaki in particular, Ponyo is the perfect jumping off point. For children brought up on a diet of CG nonsense at the multiplex on a Saturday morning, it is much more. A welcome return to ninety minutes or so of magic, wonder and the experience of being totally immersed - it provides for kids what a little studio called Disney used to churn out on a regular basis.
That’s not altogether fair. Disney turned a corner some time ago, emboldened somewhat by the success of Pixar, which it purchased in 2006. And perhaps the biggest recommendation for Miyazaki virgins is that John Lasseter, long time Pixar head honcho and now Chief Creative Officer for both them and Disney animation studios as a whole, is the man who personally oversees Studio Ghibli’s output for a Western audience, attracting top drawer voice talent for the English dubs.
Ponyo is, point of fact, the most accessible of Ghibli’s films, but it still appears a strange tale on paper. A magical fish who turns into a girl; mysterious, humungous sea creatures reappearing in the oceans; sea wizards and Earth queens commanding tidal magic and potions, waves, floods...oh, and an old peoples’ home does not sound like a promising mix. But the scope and wonder of the animation is more than matched by the imagination. Supporting characters are given more depth and snappy dialogue than in many a mainstream, adult release (a crotchety resident of the old peoples’ home springs to mind), there’s a real sense of danger with the boiling ocean racing toward and attacking the island (more than a little prescient, unfortunately, given recent events in Japan) and Sōsuke has his toy boat turned life size by the ever wondrous Ponyo. In fact, should you mention the film to any boy child, mention that fact and miss out the phrase “princess goldfish” and you’ll have ‘em hooked. But it’s not only the young who can become lost in this world. The depth of the animation is simply breathtaking, and far more impressive than simply wondering at how long it must have taken. Everything is either hand drawn (most of the backgrounds) or painted with a real cinematic depth. The coastal town depicted is in fact real and little ones may demand a weekend trip to Tomonoura should you let this slip.
The real reason Ponyo works so well is that it follows classic, storytelling structure that’s far older than celluloid. The journey of Sōsuke, through danger, abandonment and adventure, results in redemption after a tricky moral dilemma is dealt with. True love wins in the end. It’s all terribly clichéd, but plays so well precisely because of this. Miyazaki has said that he drew inspiration from The Little Mermaid, citing the original Hans Christian Anderson tale in particular and the eponymous Disney cartoon as a staring motivation to begin work on Ponyo. Some have described this and his other features as Disney on acid and you can see where they’re coming from, even if comments like this completely miss the point. One only has to look at Spirited Away, an earlier feature that has, amongst other things, the parents of our child hero transform into gluttonous pigs at the beginning. Miyazaki might be a little leftfield, but his tales are as old as, well, the sea.
Beautiful, charming and ever-so-quirky, this should be a must have on the shelves of any self-respecting, movie watching family. And if you don’t have kids, either borrow one or two to share the magic with you, or simply borrow their copy and watch it anyway. JMB
Film: Timecrimes
Release date: 4th May 2009
Certificate: 15
Running time: 88 mins
Director: Nacho Vigalondo
Starring: Karra Elejalde, Candela Fernández, Bárbara Goenaga, Nacho Vigalondo, Juan Inciarte
Genre: Sci-Fi/Mystery/Thriller
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: Spain
The concept of fate, of how much it controls us and how much we are its masters, is a familiar one to both filmmakers and viewers. You could be excused for thinking that there is no new way to explore the idea in a time travel story, the dangers of interfering with your past or even past-selves having been done to death. Hasn’t Marty McFly shown us all we need to know?
Héctor and Clara, a happily married middle-aged couple, have just moved into a new home. It’s the weekend and Hector is enjoying a quiet day, when all of a sudden, looking through some binoculars, he spots a naked girl in the woods bordering his property. Going to investigate, Héctor is attacked and stabbed in the arm by a man whose head is swathed in pink bandages. Running for his life, he breaks into a nearby business and makes contact with El Joven, an employee working late somewhere in the grounds.
With darkness falling, Héctor is lured to a laboratory by the scientist Joven and is persuaded to hide from the bandaged man in a machine, which Joven promptly closes and activates. One brief moment later, the machine is opened; it is day once more and Joven no longer recognizes him. Peering through his binoculars at his house next door, Héctor sees himself as he was the hour previous, spying on a naked girl at the bottom of his garden. After quickly being brought up to speed by Joven – that he has, in fact, travelled one hour back in time – Héctor (now referring to himself as Héctor 2) promises not to interfere with his earlier self and leaves, not yet realising that he is inextricably linked to the events about to unfold for Héctor 1…
It was the scene at the very end of another, perhaps slightly more famous time travel movie that really caught the imagination of many teenagers. Marty McFly, our boy hero from Back To The Future, watches himself as he escapes Libyan terrorists and disappears back in time, a scene from the beginning of the film. The concept of watching oneself from an earlier time offers plenty of scope, and by having a similar scene present very early on in Timecrimes, director Vigalondo manipulates established, longstanding celluloid DNA for a new, discerning audience.
He must have used a flowchart. It’s the only way (Nacho) Vigalondo could have kept track of the multiple storylines and timelines involved in his clever screenplay. Our hero, Héctor, a balding, portly, middle-aged everyman played wonderfully by Karra Elejalde, is soon one of multiple incarnations of himself. We start and stay with Héctor 1, glimpsing and hearing the other Héctors as he does. The smart, different and therefore refreshing change with this time traveller is that he is almost at once aware of what has happened. Not only that, as soon as he realises he is part of the very events he has experienced, he simply accepts the situation and gets on with making sure he repeats the actions he has already witnessed. Whilst this may seem clunky on paper, it is in fact a very smart move by Vigalondo. Acres of dialogue of heavy exposition and characters asking the usual sort of “What if…?” questions are abandoned, and instead our protagonist is imbibed with the same knowledge and intelligence we the audience are already privy to. And by staying with our Héctor the whole time, we are thankfully spared the tedium of watching the same scene over and over but merely filmed from a different angle, a ruse this genre usually throws up. Indeed, just as this cliché would seem to be inevitable, a new factor is thrown into the mix, forcing Héctor to tap into ever darker sides of his character and to make some serious, life altering decisions. After all, time travel never has been easy.
If all this is making Timecrimes sound complicated and hard going, it really isn’t. In fact, up until almost the final act, it’s a total breeze to follow, never demanding you make a mental map of where Héctor has been, what he’s done, or which Héctor you’re actually watching. Vigalondo’s background in shorts is, perhaps, the very reason it plays so well, for you could view the entire 90 minutes as a series of shorts, each dealing with the same story from a different point along its timeline. Héctor himself can be almost viewed as several different aspects of the same character for with each new decision he takes he becomes harder, colder and ever more ruthless. It barely takes any time at all before he casually decides to kill one of his doppelgängers in an attempt to get his life back, a far cry from the everyday, carefree husband we meet at the beginning,.
A sequel has been rumoured and the inevitable Hollywood remake is due in 2012 with Tom Cruise in the Héctor role, about as far a cry from the affable man portrayed by Elejalde as possible. One can only imagine how (badly) it will have to be rewritten to accommodate him.
Great Scott! A decidedly non-heavy, breezy, intelligent time travel caper that reinvents a tired sub-genre with style, panache and humour. JMB
Film: Essential Killing
Release date: 1st April 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 84 mins
Director: Jerzy Skolimowski
Starring: Vincent Gallo, Emmanuelle Seigner, Nicolai Cleve Broch, Stig Frode Henriksen, David L. Price
Genre: Thriller/War
Studio: Artificial Eye
Format: Cinema
Country: Poland/Norway/Republic of Ireland/Hungary
“If survival is essential, one might have no choice but to kill.” So states director Skolimowski, describing the journey of Mohammed, a man who has managed to escape the American military, as he runs for his life across a frozen, foreign land.
After killing three American troops, a (probable) insurgent in Afghanistan is captured, shaved, interrogated, waterboarded, beaten, bound, blindfolded and extradited to an ambiguous Eastern European country.
When the truck he is being transported in crashes, he seizes the opportunity to escape, running for his life from his American captors. Doing everything that is required of him to survive, he is forced to eat what he can scavenge, and even kill to evade his pursuers…
Essential Killing was in competition at the 2010 67th Venice International Film Festival with, amongst others, Black Swan. Interestingly, it has parallels to the ballet film; once events are set in motion, there is no let up for the viewer who is taken along, helpless, never leaving the main protagonist’s side. The truck he is in crashes, and he escapes, only to soon realize that his situation is hopeless – he has no shoes, no warm clothing, no food, no water and no idea where he is. Returning to the scene to give himself up, he finds the crash site deserted, save for two soldiers. Stealing a gun, Mohammed shoots them both and steals their vehicle and clothing. Chased by man, dog and helicopter, he is forced to (reluctantly) stab a dog to death, steals the white fatigues of a fallen pursuer and head off deeper into the woods. Eating insects and berries and struggling to stay alive in the bitter cold, he lapses into visions of his life, his family, his wife and perhaps a premonition of his future death.
There is an image about a third of the way in to Essential Killing that could have been lifted straight out of a Disney animated feature. Injured and scared, a lone figure tracks on the virgin tundra between two huge peaks as the sun sets in the distance. It’s a glorious picture to gaze at, almost as though it were painted, and all the more so given that this is virtually a silent movie that thus relies more than most on the visual. There is almost no dialogue; Gallo utters not a single word and the only other character of note is deaf/mute.
Skolimowski’s use of Vincent Gallo was meant to be as ambiguous as the locations depicted and the names not used. We only learn Mohammed’s name in the end titles, we’re left to presume that the opening scenes in a desert locale are set in Afghanistan (they are, but actually shot near the Dead Sea in Israel) and the bulk of the film depicting Gallo’s flight across a frozen woodland could be anywhere (actually filmed in both Poland and Norway). Skolimowski has stated that he has no interest in politics and that the film “is not a commentary on America or Afghanistan.” His desire was to pare to the bone what it means to be a man, and what man is capable of, both in how he behaves toward his fellow brother, as well as in terms of survival, and in this he succeeds admirably. The wintry landscape is depicted as a cold black-and-white, with splashes of crimson coming from spilled blood, and the sound design puts you in Mohammed’s head as we hear what he hears. Mimicking the almost non-existent dialogue, there is almost no soundtrack to speak of, which only heightens the sense of isolation and bewilderment this man must feel in so utterly alien a place.
There are some misfires. A shocking scene involving a breastfeeding woman seems to have been included only to, well, shock, and the death of a woodsman at our protagonists’ hands could have been handled better. There is also some marvelous serendipity allowing Mohammed to continue his journey, a Hollywood convention that jars somewhat with the tone. But these aren’t major quibbles. It is hard not to sympathize and, yes, root for this chased man. It’s what cinema has taught us to do after all. And that may rankle with some viewers. But it really shouldn’t for, taken for what it is and what it is meant to be, Essential Killing is a tour de force from one the of most seasoned of filmmakers (he’s been both acting and directing since 1960, and co-wrote Knife In The Water with Polanski).
It won the Special Jury prize at Venice and Gallo won Best Actor. Truculent as ever, he remained hidden in the audience as his director picked up the awards.
A frenetic, fast-paced chase movie that’s meant to thrill you, not make you think. And that’s a good thing sometimes. JMB
Film: Betty Blue – Director’s Cut
Release date: 13th March 2006
Certificate: 18
Running time: 185 mins
Director: Jean-Jacques Beineix
Starring: Beatrice Dalle, Jean-Hugues Anglade, Gerard Darmon, Consuelo De Havilland, Clementine Celarie
Genre: Drama/Romance
Studio: Sony
Format: DVD
Country: France
Jean-Jacques Beineix’s third effort after the striking Diva (1981) and the disappointing La lune dans le caniveau (1983). The accusation of style over substance has always been thrown at Beineix, never more so than in his sophomore effort; many critics continued the tradition with Betty Blue. Nevertheless, it’s proved to be the most popular and resilient of his films and garnered multiple nominations and awards both at home and abroad. It’s telling that, out of nine César nominations including best film and best director, it won only the one – for best poster.
Zorg is living an uncomplicated life, painting the beachfront bungalows where he also lives. He meets Betty, a girl who’s as beautiful as she is volatile.
After finding Zorg’s unpublished handwritten novel and tiring of his repulsive boss, she trashes his car and burns down the bungalow. They embark on a road trip to her best friend Lisa’s empty hotel, where Betty proceeds to type up Zorg’s novel - one finger at a time.
Working at the pizza restaurant owned by Lisa’s boyfriend to make ends meet, Betty grows angrier at the rejections Zorg’s novel receives. Packed off with Zorg to the countryside after attacking one of the publishers who’s rejected Zorg with a knife, Betty finds little solace in the peaceful surroundings.
Short of cash, Zorg finds ever more inventive ways of acquiring money. Meanwhile, Betty’s mental decline continues…
Oh, that poster. If you were anywhere between puberty and middle age in the mid-80s, you’ll know the poster; it adorned the wall of any student who wanted to be seen as even remotely intellectual, and was a visual byword for French cool. “We screwed every night. The forecast was for storms.” That prediction, given by our narrator Zorg at the very beginning of the film, neatly sums up the movie entire. It was fêted on its release in 1986 and quite rightly lauded again when the Director’s Cut, or Version Intégrale, came out in 2006. Usually marketed on its erotic content due to the preponderance of extremely graphic sex and frequent nudity, this completely misses the point. The nudity and sex is relaxed, casual and fun. Betty and Zorg are completely at ease with it, as are we. Seen by many as an essay of a doomed love affair, and a misogynist one at that due to the way in which Betty and her mental state are portrayed, this isn’t seeing the film as a whole. Betty Blue is, at heart, a farce - a very Gallic view of a woman having a prolonged and somewhat violent mental breakdown.
At first, Betty’s outbursts could be taken as cute, almost justified. Who wouldn’t want to throw paint all over the prized car of an obese, lecherous bully? Or set fire to one of his properties and then run away? We’re rooting for Betty in the first act as she does the things we often daydream about yet dare not. She’s fun, vivacious and unpredictable, and we’re as taken with her as Zorg is. Sure, she’s lost him his job and home, but it wasn’t a very good job or a particularly nice home, and he’s going to be a famous author once she gets his book published anyway. The palette in these early scenes reflects this, all bright sunshine and primary colours. Once this breezy first act is played out, we then embark on what is essentially a road movie.
The absurdity and farce that peppers Betty Blue throughout can be found mainly in the myriad of supporting characters. The most memorable of these is a refuse collector, who sports a hook in place of the hand he lost in a mattress accident, and has a pathological hatred of mattresses as a result. Sure, Betty is clearly mad it seems to be saying, but isn’t everyone?
At almost three hours, Betty Blue is too long. Beineix tries to cram in too many scenes of increasing quirkiness. Some, such as a series of cross-dressing stick-up jobs, could easily have been excised without any loss. They stilt the narrative flow and seem shoehorned in. There is also no attempt to explain or investigate Betty’s mental state. Indeed, it’s clearly obvious from the very beginning that her behaviour will lead down one path and one path only. She’s clearly a very disturbed young lady, quite possibly from an event or events in her childhood, but this is never explored, discussed or remarked upon by anyone, and none of the characters, save for Zorg, want much to do with her when she kicks off. Under her spell, Zorg displays all the strength of a lovesick puppy, only occasionally confronting her. And yet it can be argued that it’s really his film, despite the title. It’s Zorg’s story we’re following, not Betty’s, and its Zorg we’re rooting for, having consigned Betty to her fate at an early stage. But then a film called ‘Zorg’ with a picture of a pouting Jean-Hughes Anglade as the poster just wouldn’t have done.
But these are mere quibbles. Betty Blue is a rich, luscious, luxurious experience and a joyous blast of realistic fresh air - a veritable smorgasbord of characters and situations. And the poster still looks damn good after twenty-five years.
Quintessentially French, Betty burst forth an icon of cinema and remains so twenty five-years after its initial release. It’s a real shame Béatrice Dalle never made anything remotely as good ever again. JMB
