Rendez-Vous, part deux.

Her Name Is Sabine

Chastening for a number of reasons, not least because it's a fine reminder that celebrities of the Hilton/Spears ilk may occur less frequently than imagined, and at least may be balanced by the sort of celebrity who puts her pedal to the metal of a movie like this. Her Name Is Sabine (Elle s'appelle Sabine) is the first film from actress Sandrine Bonnaire, a documentary about her autistic sister Sabine. Already you're running for the hills. Okay: I might have headed there, too, had I not been determined to see every program in this year's festival. Barely a few minutes into the film, however, I was hooked. Over the years, Bonnaire has done her own cinematography - of Sabine, family, friends and health care workers - and while she may not be hired in place of Christopher Doyle or Philippe Rousselot, she's done a commendable job of showing us what we need to see with care and thought.

The result is a horror story, during which your frustration level is likely to grow exponentially, coupled to the kind of wrenchingly sad experience that comes from seeing a surprisingly beautiful young girl turn into an overweight, drooling, sedated... You get the picture. Bonnaire and her family are nothing if not insistent. They try it all. Though it takes years and years before Sabine is even diagnosed as autistic, the diagnosis is nowhere near specific. Everything seems fudged, as perhaps it must be until we know a lot more than we now know about this disease. Along the way, the mother of another autistic patient tells us of the time she ingested her son's drug by mistake and we learn just how powerful and hampering these drugs can be. Necessarily so, perhaps, but at what price to the patient? But then, what a price all those - family, friends, workers - who want to remain in the picture must also pay.

Bonnaire cuts back and forth between the young and the older Sabine, and though it may be partially due to the typical sadness of comparing youth with age, we never quite get over the surprise of seeing the more radiant girl. Bonnaire keeps herself to a minimum but it is clear she is hugely important to her sister. We leave the film grateful that she remains in the picture, even at a distance, and wondering how we would - if we could - handle something like this. As sad and depressing as the subject may be, the film is one of the more enriching and encompassing about autism - about the handicapped of any kind - that I've encountered. I think this is due to the clarity Bonnaire brings to her topic. She does not sermonize but rather shows and tells with concern and economy (the documentary lasts only 85 minutes). Her Name Is Sabine will be shown at the IFC Center on Sunday, March 2, at 3:30; it will screen at the WRT venue on Saturday, March 1, at 1:30 and Wednesday, March 5, at 8:45. On a happy, if surprising, note, the movie has also been picked up for distribution by Film Movement.

Let's Dance

On the basis of the two films I've seen by director/co-writer (with Florence Seyvos) and sometimes actress (Backstage, Kings and Queen) Noémie Lvovsky, this talented woman, now in her mid-40s, likes to deal with profound subjects in a relatively lighthearted manner. This is not the same thing as doing "deep" in a "shallow" way, for Ms Lvovsky manages, as in her 2000 film Les Sentiments, to treat love and infidelity with the seriousness they deserve, using a crack cast in counterpoint with a chorale, of all things! And she keeps us amused, delighted and on our toes, wits-wise, at least.

In her new film, Let's Dance (Fait que ça danse!), she comes closer to keeping us literally on our toes, since there is occasional dancing going on: by her lead actor, the great Jean-Pierre Marielle and, in films clips, by another "great," Fred Astaire. (Lead actress Valeria Bruni Tedeschi gets to wiggle a bit as well). Once again, Lvovsky offer us little things like life, death, aging and the Holocaust, done with a light touch that still manages to take note of the darker side - without falling over into it. This is a gift, and if I am not as blown away by Let's Dance as I was by Les Sentiments, I still highly recommend it as an antidote, if only a temporary one (rather like life itself, but shorter) to "the end."

What makes this movie especially enjoyable is its ensemble cast. In addition to Marielle and Tedeschi, there is Bulle Ogier, as M Marielle's now semi-senile wife; Sabine Azema is his newest girlfriend; Arié Elmaleh as Tedeschi's quiet but staunch boyfriend; and a truly lovely actor, Barkary Sangaré who, though I have seen him in Les Sentiments, as well as Claire Denis's Trouble Every Day, stands out here in a whole new way. This group does wonders in bringing Ms Lvovsky's film to imaginative life, and there is one scene in particular that I think will remain in your memory. It shows an event that we have often witnessed on film - and if we are lucky enough, in life - but never, I think, quite like this. More than anything else in the movie, it reflects what I imagine to be the Lvovsky philosophy clearly and without the tendency to simplify and sentimentalize that occasionally hovers about some other of her events (life is to dance!) - but does not, fortunately, sink the film. Instead, the director keeps it, its cast and us all dancing.

Let's Dance will be shown at Rendez-Vous's WRT venue on Friday, February 29, at 1, Saturday, March 1 at 9:15, and at the IFC Center on Sunday March 2 at 1 pm.

Love Songs

"I love no one but you!" sings Louis Garrel to his love (looking and acting about as charming and sexy as I've yet seen him). Trouble is, he's singing it to two women simultaneously. This should give you a clue as to the transgressive nature of Christopher Honoré's very clever, bumpy and ultimately winning Love Songs (Les Chansons d'amour). Most of the songs here are about love, alright, but often their purpose is to help the characters come to terms with grief. Untimely death occurs early on, and the movie - which is very concerned with love and sex (and our current uses of them) - spends most of its time trying to figure out how these fit into the grid that one's life, these days, is laid out upon. And how death affects family members, as well as lovers and friends. Being French, of course, the thoughts, actions and ideas on display look almost nothing like that we get from American movies.

You may be put in mind of some of the films of Jacques Demy (for whatever reason - grief, perhaps, and the appearance of Chiara Mastroianni - I was reminded periodically of the late Françoise Dorléac), though the music and lyrics by Alex Beaupain are definitely 21st century in their rhythms and concerns (one love duet is even sung via cell phone). Not nearly the entire dialogue is sung, however (as it is with Demy), and there are nods aplenty to past movie musicals, which only adds to the charm and "movie-ness" of the goings-on.

The musical is a fairly resistible genre, at least for many, as it calls for an even further suspension of disbelief than other genres, by having characters who sing - in addition to all the other "unreality" in which movies abound. By bringing the musical into our new century, then making it small and intimate, Honoré risks some alienation from his audience. I experienced a degree of this along the way, particularly early on, yet little by little I was draw into the "life" created by the writer/director and his composer/lyricist (who walked away this past week with a César award). The songs, by the way, existed prior to the movie: Honoré built his film around what was already there, rather than having Beaupain do the reverse, and it works so well that I doubt you'll care to pull out the chicken/egg theory here.

In addition to the increasingly surprising Garrel and the increasingly grounded and graceful Mastroianni, the ensemble includes Ludivine Sagnier (A Secret) and Clotilde Hesme (whom you'll remember as Garrel's amour in Regular Lovers) as the girlfriends, Brigitte Roüan as the mother, and Grégoire Leprince-Ringuet (also one of this year's César winners) as the very insistent young man who throws the Garrel character quite a curve. We are left, in the end, again mulling the odd course and conditions of love. This time, however, you may feel yourself, as I did, a few inches above the ground, in something approaching a state of grace.

Love Songs will screen at Rendez-Vous in its WRT venue on Sunday, March 2, at 1 pm and Tuesday, March 4, at 1 and 6:15 pm, and at the IFC Center Monday, March 3, at 7:30. Love Songs is one of the four Rendez-Vous films (so far) to be picked up for theatrical distribution, this one by IFC Films and Red Envelope Entertainment. It will debut in theatres on March 21.

[Love Songs screened at Cannes.]

Paris

In its own way, Cédric Klapisch's Paris is as much a love letter to the city of lights - and life - as was last year's Paris je t'aime. There are nearly as many characters here and a plethora of stories, but only a single director - though a very good one. Klapisch (Russian Dolls, Not for or Against, Un Air de famille) loves ensembles, and to judge from the many fine performances he draws from his disparate casts, they love the opportunity to work with him - many of them for a second or third time.

Confession: due to last-minute emergency and the NYC subway system, I missed the first 15 minutes of the press screening. Still, after taking my seat, within 30 seconds I'd become involved with the characters on-screen and after viewing the remaining 115 minutes, I feel entitled to recommend Paris as a "don't miss" experience: for its beauty, its acute sense of opportunity and heartbreak, and one performance after another that offers some of France's best actors at their peak. (I will plan to see that first quarter-hour at the official screening later this week - and will probably sit through the whole movie again. It's that enjoyable.)

Klapisch loves to twine people and events together, and one of his stronger points is that he does not push these connections. Consequently, some of the characters are joined more firmly - by family ties, love interest, employment - than others. This makes for a movie that jogs along at a regular pace, sometimes speeding up or slowing down for a little detour (one of the wittiest is a computer-animated dream/nightmare experienced by the architect played by François Cluzet, of last year's Tell No One).

The stories take in a young man (Romain Duris) with a heart problem both literal and metaphoric; his sister (Juliette Binoche) and her offspring; the architect's brother (the great Fabrice Luchini, most recently of Molière), a professor of history who becomes fixated on a young student; a lonely vendor in an outdoor market (Albert Dupontel) and a uptight bakery owner (Karin Viard), among many others. Every actor is on point, but Luchini, in particular, is extraordinary. That face of his, used equally effectively for humor and pathos, mirrors so much so beautifully that he keeps you entranced, and the scene in which he "dances" is as funny and amazing as anything I've witnessed in some time. (The lovely Mélanie Laurent, from last year's Don't Worry, I'm Fine, makes a fitting foil for Luchini's libido.) In addition to the characters who already live in Paris, the film acknowledges some emigrants who desperately want to come there.

As the movie proceeds, a bit of flatness intrudes now and again. Because many scenes seem to have the same weight and length, over two hours and ten minutes, some longueurs occur. But almost immediately, the bounce is back. To his credit, Klapisch is not one of those overly cute filmmakers given to tying up his loose ends. Whatever happens to these people, you are left at the finale with a strong feeling of affirmation. Not a bad way, these days, to exit a movie theater. Paris will be shown at Rendez-Vous's WRT venue on Saturday, March 1, at 6:15 and Tuesday, March 4, at 3:15. The IFC Center screens it on Sunday, March 2, at 5:45.

Roman de gare

"Never assume," someone has told us, "because it makes an ass of u and me." In his new film Roman de Gare, 70-year-old veteran French director Claude Lelouch (Un Homme et une femme, Les uns et les autres, Hasards ou coïncidences) makes asses of us all - to our great delight - by leading us into seemingly intelligent assumptions and then pulling the rug out from under them. Working at (or very close to) the top of his form, this formidable writer/director adds petite doses of mystery, suspense and fear to his usual romantic comedy routine (with the accent firmly on the romance), taking us on one of his trips into quintessential movie-movie-land, French style. In the process he also graces us with one of the most unlikely - and exhilarating - pair of lovers the screen has seen in some time.

God knows this fellow understands the importance of casting. All these actors must have been Lelouch's choice: I could find no mention of a casting director among the film's many credits. Fanny Ardant as one of France's most famous and popular novelists? Perfect. Dominique Pinon, who has provided delights from Diva to Delicatessen and beyond, is here given the opportunity of his career and he runs, jumps and takes off into the stratosphere with it. In the third pivotal role is a newcomer to me, Audrey Dana, a beautiful woman just approaching middle age whose character grows from bubble-head into something rich and wonderful (she was nominated for a César this year, deservedly). The entire supporting cast, just as well chosen, delivers with finesse.

How does Lelouch manage it? Well, he's been at it so long (49 projects in 47 years) that I suppose he could make a movie blindfolded and with one arm held behind his back. Yet I don't think he's become lazy. If anything, he's growing more economical. Roman de gare lasts only 103 minutes, while one recent film (And Now... Ladies and Gentlemen from 2002) went on for 133. His latest is filled with lovely, subtle moments (note how he manages to show us a prison escape). And if the first two-thirds of the film are tip-top, I must admit to guessing the climax some time before it appeared. Still, the denouement had me in love with movies - and life - all over again, a result Lelouch achieves in his films more often than not.

I admit to finding some of this director's early successes awfully simple (A Man and a Woman, for instance: that repetitive Francis Lai score!). But Lelouch and his work have grown in stature and wisdom, as befits a talented fellow who keeps trying so energetically. Long may he film.

Roman de Gare, a fine opening night choice for Rendez-Vous (I'd call it European - rather than American - mainstream), shows at the WRT venue on Friday, February 29, at 6:30 and 9pm and at the IFC Center on Saturday, March 1, at 7. Not surprisingly, it has been picked up for theatrical release by Samuel Goldwyn Films. Movie lovers looking for a fizzy, spring pick-me-up will find it in NYC and LA theatres on April 25.

A Secret

There have been countless films detailing the treatment of Jews during WWII; if history is any guide, there will be many more - Holocaust deniers or no. Documentaries such as Hiding and Seeking, The Sorrow and the Pity and Shoah have shown us individual stories and the "big picture" about as well as can be imagined, while narrative films from Berri's The Two of Us to Spielberg's Schindler's List and Koltai's Fateless have attempted something similar with varying degrees of success. At this point in time, most inveterate moviegoers bring to any Holocaust story so much filmic baggage that we could unpack and set up housekeeping for months, if not years. Little wonder, then, that so many of us approach any new Holocaust story with trepidation: What more can we learn? How much more horror must we watch?

With his new film A Secret (Un Secret), Claude Miller - always an economical and subtle director (Garde à vue, L'Effrontée, Class Trip, Alias Betty and La Petite Lili) - appears to have understood our feelings and our baggage and made better use of these than many more heralded directors. Yes, it's the same old story, this time set in France, yet Miller has made a movie that is fresh and vital, with fewer clichés than seem possible, given the subject matter. We flip back and forth in time (interestingly, most of the color is drained from the present: what's more real and important is the past) as we meet four generations in an extended family of French Jews.

There are no concentration camps scenes, save a brief few moments of newsreel footage (the usual) that provoke something shocking and angry from our protagonist. It's this sort of thing that makes Miller, for my money, such a special director. And he accomplishes it again and again throughout his film, combining personal passions with history and the larger picture in an elliptical but meaningful way that enriches the characters on display, the society of which they are a part, and us viewers who understand better, thanks to this film, how and why all of it mattered. Like his character Louise, wonderfully played by Julie Depardieu, Miller, as director and adapter (from a novel by Philippe Grimbert), observes events honestly and with feeling but does not judge. For a Holocaust film, A Secret is remarkably quiet and measured. Yet, by the finale, the emotional wallop it packs - together with a profound sense of sadness and loss - makes this movie the equal of any of its predecessors in the genre. With much more economy, too: the running time is just 100 minutes plus credits.

A Secret, was nominated for eleven Césars this year: best film, actress (Cecile de France), supporting actress (Depardieu and Ludivine Sagnier), direction, writing, editing, cinematography, music, costumes and production design. Only Depardieu walked away with her award, though all the nominees were more than worthy. This film was shown once during the FSLC's recent NY Jewish Film Festival and will be shown during Rendez-Vous at the IFC venue on Friday, February 29, at 7:30 and at the WRT venue Saturday, March 1, at 3:45 and Sunday, March 2 at 6 pm. Shockingly enough, it so far has found no theatrical distribution.

Shall We Kiss?

Do we have a budding Marivaux on our hands in actor/writer/director Emmanuel Mouret? Without, that is, the famous 18th century playwright's rhymed couplets and sensibility to class differences. It's been quite a while since I've seen a movie this wise in regard to the delights and dangers of love and infidelity - as well as to the unfortunate consequences of the disconnect these create between the body and mind. In Shall We Kiss? (Un baiser, s'il vous plait) Mouret has constructed a splendid trifle that sports a consistent tone, even as it moves from comedy into something sadder and more real, briskly whipping philosophy, morality and romance into a very appealing, even moving soufflé.

Two people meet; sparks are set off. But before they can complete even that first kiss, one tells the other a story and off we go into Scheherazade territory. The story, at first silly and romantic, at midway morphs into something deeper. Mouret and his well-chosen cast keep their train from hopping the track and lead us, by the end, into a state of wisdom tinged with sentiment and regret.

The ensemble, in which every one of the six principals shines, includes Virginie Ledoyen, who uses her slightly pinched beauty and intelligence to excellent affect; Italy's Stefano Accorsi, who, after Blame It on Fidel and now this, may yet become one of France's finest actors as well. Julie Gayet uses her particular beauty and intelligence to ground the film in moral terms, while Mouret himself (even if he's a bit less of a looker than his compatriots) comes through quite nicely on the comedy end. Frédérique Bel (from Russian Dolls) is a blond beauty with a sweet, silly voice who proves the wisest of the group, even if she has neglected to memorize her boyfriend's unlisted phone number, and instead keeps it on her cell. Finally there's Michaël Cohen, whose character offers perhaps the least distinguishable characteristics, yet Cohen nails the role via his handsome face and his never-pushy, soft and romantic manner. We identify and come to care for all these characters, despite - in fact, because of - their hypocrisy and fallibleness. The work of Mourtet and his fine ensemble make this possible.

Speaking of the possible, it is almost impossible to imagine an American counterpoint to this film - something so deft, subtle, unpushed, witty and true. Comparisons may be odious, but the romantic comedy-cum-philosophy is a genre in which the French, god bless 'em, continue to excel. The FSLC's Rendez-Vous series often offers an example of the genre; this year's is up there among the best. Shall We Kiss screens at the WRT venue on Friday, March 7, at 5; Saturday, March 8, at 1:30; Sunday, March 9, at 8:45. It shows at the IFC Center Thursday, March 6, at 7.

Those Who Remain

Looking for a novel way to meet a possible new mate? You could do worse than sample Those Who Remain (Ceux qui restent), writer/director/actress Anne Le Ny's enthralling and empathetic account of two middle-aged people, whose lives intersect because their significant others are both undergoing heavy-duty cancer treatment in the same hospital. I do not mean to make light of a situation (nor, certainly, does Ms Le Ny), which, in Hollywood hands, would immediately take on a meet-cute aura, all too soon followed by the requisite happy - or worse, tragic - ending. Instead, we are treated to a couple of adults, acting and thinking like problemed adults - and bringing their adult audience (this is not a movie for kids) along with them.

Although she's written a couple of films (and performed in many more), this is Le Ny's first go-round as a director. Clearly, watching and listening, she has learned via proximity. And now, oh, the things she sees! Instructed to give her uncle a kiss, a child bends over a bathtub and sneaks a glimpse at his nether region; two adults argue whether or not a one-year-old can actually walk yet - while the kid is doing just that in the background. Many of the director's loveliest moments are visually layered, with the action occurring on several planes at once, so that your eye will need to move fast from layer to layer to catch it all. Fortunately, Le Ny quiets down often in order to concentrate on her two lead characters, marvelously played by veterans Emmanuelle Devos and Vincent Lindon. If this pairing immediately brings to mind last year's La Moustache, the characters in Those Who Remain are so different and the actors so completely immersed in their roles that within moments you'll forget all about that earlier movie, interesting though it was.

In addition to the two leads, there are a number of other important subsidiary characters, from hospital workers to family members, all of whom are given their due. Most surprising, perhaps, is the manner in which Le Ny handles the two cancer patients: a wise choice that allows our sympathy for and understanding of the protagonists to better flourish. If, as the movie winds down, its sense of discovery lessens and events become a bit more predictable (the final moment in particular), this first-time filmmaker still manages to honor her characters and us viewers by providing a timely look at life, death and various kinds of love, leavened along the way with humor, sadness, irony and wit, all with wonderful specificity. Those Who Remain will be shown at the IFC Center on Saturday, March 1, at 1:45 pm and at the WRT venue on Thursday, March 6, at 1; Saturday, March 8, at 6:30; and Sunday, March 9, at 3:45.

Trivial

There is usually a ringer in every French festival and I am afraid that, this year, the booby prize goes to Trivial (La Disparue de Deauville). If this film is any indication, its director and co-writer (with Jacques Deschamps), Sophie Marceau, is much better off in front of the camera than behind it or with pen in hand.

Her movie begins in both flashback and present time sequences and indicates that we will be served with murder, missing persons, family secrets and the like - all of which we finally get, though not with any particular wit, wisdom, style or pacing. Everything here is served second-hand, from the visual effects (Marceau tries them all: the circling camera, the stop motion, the bleached palette and the blood-red this and that) to the plot ploys (Is she an apparition or reality? Is he crazy, or just crazy like a fox?) to the - oh, god, no - car chase. That last is offered midway through the movie and is simply ghastly. Inserted into the midst of all the noir-ish nonsense, it comes off as utterly stupid and even offensive, since it tries to be funny at precisely the wrong time (to be fair, the movie offers no right times), goes on for what seems like forever, and, though executed professionally enough, looks not even second-hand but third, maybe fourth.

In the male lead Christopher Lambert appears old, dirty and wizened (until - spoiler ahead - he suddenly spruces up for a happy, romantic ending. You're surprised? I doubt it), and Marceau, as the female lead, looks gorgeous, second only to Isabelle Adjani in the annals of French actresses who never seem to age. The supporting players include some oldsters-but-goodsters like Marie-Christine Barrault, Robert Hossein and Judith Magre, along with Marilou Berry, whom I have not seen since Agnès Jaoui's Look at Me). All to no avail. (Barrault has one particularly embarrassing scene in which her over-acting, coupled with Marceau's over-visuals, goes straight into the annals of camp.) Only the nicely serious Simon Abkarian, as Lambert's partner/friend, and Nicolas Briançon as the real "victim" of the story, manage to rise above the film itself.

According to Variety, this one was a dud at the French box office, and I should think it would fare no better over here. It certainly does Rendez-Vous no credit, though its English title, rather than the more pertinent French one, may indicate that the moviemakers knew all too well what kind of product they were delivering. Trivial plays at the IFC Center on Wednesday, March 5, at 7:30, and at the WRT venue Thursday, March 6, at 8:15 and Friday, March 7, at 1:30.

Back to Part 1.

"The title of the mini-festival is no tease," writes Michelle Orange in the Voice. "If you thought Sarkozy marrying and promptly impregnating his supermodel/songstress lover was a thick slice of drama à la Française, the country's directors - never known to fall short in that category - have outdone not only their leader but themselves."

Acquarello reviews Shall We Kiss?, The Feelings Factory and All Is Forgiven.

Update, 2/29: "Beyond its entertainment value, Paris embodies the centrality of the city to French cinema," writes Stephen Holden in the New York Times. "It has been the setting for so many of the series's films, including this year's, that it is impossible to imagine Rendez-Vous, or French cinema in general, existing without it."

Updates, 3/1: "All Is Forgiven is so resolutely modest that it took me a while to realize what I was seeing was closer to Yi Yi than another purposefully small-scale festival movie," writes Vadim Rizov at the House Next Door, where he also recommends Fear(s) of the Dark, which "kicks Persepolis's ass." Then: "Unremarkable but smooth, Roman de gare] is a trip back to the good old middlebrow days," while "Those Who Remain putters along agreeably enough."

Marcy Dermansky is far more enthusiastic about that one.

Updates, 3/4: More from acquarello: Let's Dance, La Question humaine and Love Songs.

At Twitch, Todd Brown notes that Fear(s) of the Dark has been picked up by IFC.

Update, 3/5: Acquarello on Ain't Scared and Un Secret.

Posted by dwhudson at February 28, 2008 2:56 PM