I saw this film last night as part of a Catherine Deneuve festival. She never disappoints me, and she didn't disappoint me this time, but the film did. Gerard Depardieu also was outstanding as usual; he is utterly amazing in his ability to portray vastly different characters despite his utterly distinctive physical presence.
I regard any film that holds my attention throughout as being basically good, and any that doesn't as basically bad. This one held my attention, so it's good. I kept wanting to see what happened next.
But there are degrees of goodness, and this one was down near the bottom. At the end, I thought, "Well, what am I supposed to take out of all that?" Two former lovers may or may not be reunited; if they are, it may or may not be the result of witchcraft; the half-gay son's girlfriend is unhappy about something, but I have no idea what it it is or if it's going to get better; her sister is also troubled, but I have no idea what about; maybe something significant was said about the politics of Tangier and/or Iraq, but if so it went over my head.
The hand-held camera, as always, didn't make me think about the significance of the events that were unfolding; it just unsettled my stomach by forcing me to adjust my field of vision every millisecond. When you think about it, the basic rationale for constant use of hand-held cameras is fundamentally stupid. It doesn't add realism; it destroys it. When I observe people interacting, I don't dance around them as photographers holding cameras seem compelled to do; and if I do move, my field of vision changes smoothly and, to me, unnoticeably. But when the hand-held camera moves, it jerks, and the viewer has to adjust his field of vision and then absorb the sights he sees. Bring back the good old days where the images were the focus, not the camera-work.
I regard any film that holds my attention throughout as being basically good, and any that doesn't as basically bad. This one held my attention, so it's good. I kept wanting to see what happened next.
But there are degrees of goodness, and this one was down near the bottom. At the end, I thought, "Well, what am I supposed to take out of all that?" Two former lovers may or may not be reunited; if they are, it may or may not be the result of witchcraft; the half-gay son's girlfriend is unhappy about something, but I have no idea what it it is or if it's going to get better; her sister is also troubled, but I have no idea what about; maybe something significant was said about the politics of Tangier and/or Iraq, but if so it went over my head.
The hand-held camera, as always, didn't make me think about the significance of the events that were unfolding; it just unsettled my stomach by forcing me to adjust my field of vision every millisecond. When you think about it, the basic rationale for constant use of hand-held cameras is fundamentally stupid. It doesn't add realism; it destroys it. When I observe people interacting, I don't dance around them as photographers holding cameras seem compelled to do; and if I do move, my field of vision changes smoothly and, to me, unnoticeably. But when the hand-held camera moves, it jerks, and the viewer has to adjust his field of vision and then absorb the sights he sees. Bring back the good old days where the images were the focus, not the camera-work.