Reviews

The hallmark of great directors is their ability to convey a sense of the sacred quality of what we are shown on screen. Guediguian achieves this here with his skillful interweaving of his characters' (largely sordid) lives on the backdrop of his beloved city. Even the least of these people is not beyond the possibility of redemption; Ariane Ascaride's role as the mother of a single-mother heroin addict is particularly powerful. A beautiful film shot with great tenderness.

The point of the vastly extended preparatory phase of this Star is Born story seems to be to make ultimate success all the more sublime. Summer Phoenix is very effective as an inarticulate young woman imprisoned within herself but never convincing as the stage actress of growing fame who both overcomes and profits from this detachment. Even in the lengthy scenes of Esther's acting lessons, we never see her carry out the teacher's instructions. After suffering through Esther's (largely self-inflicted) pain in excruciating detail, we are given no persuasive sense of her triumph.

The obsessive presence of the heroine's pain seems to be meant as a guarantee of aesthetic transcendence. Yet the causes of this pain (poverty, quasi-autism, Judaism, sexual betrayal) never come together in a coherent whole. A 163-minute film with a simple plot should be able to knit up its loose ends. Esther Kahn is still not ready to go before an audience.

The story begins and ends with Sandrine, but never decides whether it's her story or that of a whole *bande* of young people. The relationships between undecided Sandrine, her parents, and her engaged friend Martine are drawn with a depth that contrasts with the sketchy depictions of the male characters and makes us regret the time squandered on tediously repeated scenes (cafe, disco, pad) of adolescent love-life. With a sharper focus and more sense of specificity (there are virtually no establishing shots), the characters might really have come alive. And why show us the heroine in her bathtub? Nudity should reflect a vision other than that of the camera-voyeur.

Two scenes illustrate the subtlety and sophistication of this film. In the opening sequence, the image of a cat in heat is followed by that of the heroine-director writhing in the throes of a self-administered orgasm. In a contrasting scene, following some clothes-ripping sex, we see our heroine crossing the street *floating on a little cloud*.

Rather than a portrait of uncontrollable "animal" passion, this film has the feel of a manifesto: you men think you can portray female sexuality, *I* know what it's really like. But there is no genuine sensuality here, only hysterical febrility. After the sensitive portrayals of _Outremer_, rooted in historical reality, the creation of this empty cat-woman and her so-predictable stud is most disappointing. Even the implausible secondary plot of an elderly woman who murders her husband is refreshing by comparison.

The gritty decors combine interestingly with a dreamlike plot, pitting the hero and his "borderline" brother against the hostility of his home town, inflamed by his return, after his mother's death, with his Marilyn-Monroe-imitating girlfriend/fiancee. Although the conclusion is a bit facile, this film should go down in history for Pauline Lafont's - and the director's - creation of Lilas. Incarnating a male fantasy leavened with reminiscences of her mother Bernadette's powerful performance in Nelly Kaplan's _La fiancee du pirate_, Lafont generates more sheer sexual magnetism than any other woman I have ever seen on screen, whether rated R or XXX. It's wrenching to recall that this vibrant young woman died in an accident a year later at the age of 25.

It's hard to understand why Allio made this film. The main character, as the title implies, is a cipher (though not always a sailor); the focus of power is Sanda's "fatal attraction" role. But this doesn't explain the artificial low-budget decors, the thinness of Sanda's as well as her lover's character, and the amateurish plotting of the denouement. A faded discount-store copy of a 50s costume drama.

This light murder mystery, with Pierre Fresnay as the cool detective and the delightful (if a bit overwhelming) Suzy Delair as his "sidekick," somewhat a la Nick & Nora Charles, is in style and casting (Fresnay, Pierre Larquey, Noel Roquevert), sexual tension, even theme - the ambiguity of criminal responsibility - a prelude to Clouzot's far more significant Le corbeau (1943). The Fresnay-Delair duo brings fresh air to the claustrophobic space of Vichy cinema.

This is not a slick, meretricious production; the three principals are real and appealing. But their lives, and their story, are underdeveloped. We sympathize with the mother-daughter trauma without understanding why it's so abnormally severe. The symbolism of "Circuit Carole" (named after a motorcyle accident victim) isn't much help. And what point is made by the heroine's singing? The film's shortness and slightness suggest that there isn't a story there quite yet; maybe next time.

Needing money for repairs, the old director of a boarding school (Larquey, in usual form) holds a fund-raising reunion for his prize class, including the supposedly wealthy Blier. While the "boys" are reliving their past (the film's only good moments), the director's lovely niece, with whom Blier and his rival Francois Perier were/are in love, is killed. Incredibly, none of the old boys, including the uncle, displays the least emotion--but the murder does allow the old friends to recapture a moment of their youth. An atrocious piece of plotting in the service of nostalgic gynophobia.

A thoroughly enjoyable film; Jaoui's portrayal of the worldly-wise-gal-who-always-falls-for-the-wrong-guy is superb, and the other principals are excellent as well. The plot--Philistine shows he's not so benighted after all--is nothing new, even in French cinema, but it's all in the way it's done: in this film, perceptively and subtly. An impressive directorial debut for Jaoui.

A costume piece, high-gloss cinema de papa, with lots of pseudo-creative camera work trying to make us forget it. The potentially interesting story is told sentimentally and superficially, never probing the ultimate ironies (sexual, moral) of the relationship among the three principals. The secondary characters are mostly mean-spirited caricatures rather than real people--nor is our sympathy for the murderer (the only character with real substance) tempered by any for his victim. Lots of loud noise and sea shots straight out of an MGM pirate epic, but the obvious reference is the French 50s, with Darrieux and Philipe replaced by Binoche and Auteuil. An objectionable (and wholly unrealistic) feature is the insistent use of vulgarities, as though 19th century men--and even women!--spoke in polite society the way one might in a brothel. It's hard to believe a French director could get such a kick out of the word "merde."

The sing-along idea is clever and well-implemented, but the story goes around in circles and above all the film is too static to support the musical premise. It's sad to see such lackluster direction from the creator of _Hiroshima mon amour_. If you like Jaoui and Bacri, go see _Le gout des autres_!

The potentially touching (if far from original) premise of a girl's redemptive love for a "misunderstood" loser is spoiled by straining for effect and overall implausibility. Talented direction of young actors, but an immature view of the human condition that lacks the feeling of sacredness that its Bresson-like references to religion seem to seek. Less would have been more.

_Beau travail_ gives proof that French cinema can still produce masterpieces. This adaptation of Melville focuses on Vere rather than Billy and on a ritualistic masculine life that has lost its function and degenerated into sterile rivalry. It shows the subtle triumph of the female principle in this harsh environment without ever striking a discordant ideological note. The cinematography displaying the men against the desert is breathtaking, and the rhythm of the narrative sequences builds tension with a brilliant economy of means. Even the French is beautifully written. The best French film I've seen in years (and I've seen quite a few).