With My Golden Days, Arnaud Desplechin reinterprets the couple at the heart of My Sex Life, the 1996 feature that established him early and definitively as one of the reigning auteurs of our era. A prequel, a sequel, and an utterly satisfying work in its own right, My Golden Days is told in flashback by the great Mathieu Amalric, who returns to the role of Paul Dedalus to recount three defining phases of his youth: a prepubescent escape from home to go live with a lesbian great-aunt, a school trip to the Soviet Union during which he sneaks off to give his passport to a dissident, and the passionate up-and-down relationship with Esther that will see him through his years as an anthropology student in Paris. As ever with Desplechin, the narrative has the discursive depth of a modernist novel and the emotional immediacy of a Technicolor film. One of the film’s chief pleasures is seeing Desplechin extend his study of family bonds and romantic partnerships to teenagers for the first time, ushering a wildly talented new group of actors onto the screen. Quentin Dolmaire is as eccentric as his predecessor Amalric, but brings a touching earthy quality to the teenage Paul Dedalus. As for newcomer Lou Roy-Lecollinet, she turns Esther into one of the great mystery women of cinema, holding the camera’s gaze with an entrancing blend of vulnerability and self-possession.
SYNOPSIS La Sapienza is the magnificent culmination of the work of one of today’s most idiosyncratic, fascinating directors, the American-born but profoundly French Eugène Green. In La Sapienza, Green, an expert in baroque theater, sends a tired middle-aged French couple on a pilgrimage to the baroque marvels of the Swiss canton of Ticino. Here, the architect and his wife befriend a young brother and sister and take them under their wing. The architect invites the young man to Rome to discover his predecessor Borromini’s masterpiece: the Church of St. Yves at La Sapienza. By contrasting the elevating beauty of the baroque with grisly contemporary architecture and finding echoes of global conflict in the most placid corners of Switzerland, Green paints a dispiriting picture of the modern world. Yet his treatment of the brother and sister Goffredo and Lavinia clearly signal that he has every hope for the next generation. In La Sapienza, the past is a source of inspiration, the present is dismaying, and the future is wide open. As luminously spiritual as it can be scathingly funny about contemporary mores, La Sapienza is lucid about our challenges but deliriously ecstatic about the possibility for beauty and love.
Christelle Prot Landman
France, Italy, 2014
PRICE RANGE From $350 for Blu-Ray and DVD
From $400 for DCP
Depending on the size of the venue
With this lushly executed, unorthodox biopic of superstar couturier Yves Saint Laurent, French director Bertrand Bonello has established himself as one of the leading auteurs of our time. Focusing on the “dark years” from 1967 to 1976, when Saint Laurent was at the peak of his powers but growing increasingly isolated through his manic work habits and equally obsessive hedonistic pursuits, becoming estranged from his lover and business manager Pierre Bergé due to a drug-fuelled affair with a notorious Paris dandy, Bonello creates an impressively layered portrait that never succumbs to the reductive formulas often found in film treatments of creative geniuses. Part of the secret lies in the way that Bonello remains allusive with his elusive subject, accumulating fragments rather than pursuing plot points. Indeed, some of the film’s most memorable episodes, such as Saint Laurent teaching an insecure client to see herself in a new light or encountering his legendary muse Betty Cattroux in a sumptuous, wordless Paris nightclub scene, feel like routine moments—which only happen to belong to the routine of an extraordinary being. Bonello’s strength lies not only in revealing the nuances of a legendarily remote character, but in capturing the electricity of his subject’s milieu with astute blue chip casting, moody scoring, and sensual camera movement. The ambition here is nothing short of operatic; it is no coincidence or hyperbole if one leaves the theater thinking of Visconti or The Godfather trilogy.
Combine David Lynch’s head-scratching wildness and Charlie Kaufman’s hilarious worst-case scenarios, throw in a pinch of Luis Buñuel’s wicked irreverence and a streak of cruel French humor, and you won’t quite have Quentin Dupieux’s Reality, but you’ll be a little closer to understanding how far outside convention this delightfully fearless, mind-bending comedy dwells. In Reality, a French filmmaker in California finds a movie-house that is already screening the film he is in the process of writing, a little girl tries to watch a big blue videotape she found inside a hog’s stomach, and a cooking show host endangers his livelihood by constantly scratching at a full-body rash that no one else can see. By making his characters intersect in the realm of the impossible, Dupieux masterfully collapses the distance between dream and reality and returns to film’s primal role in the collective unconscious. Working in a sui generis genre that can both stand up to psychoanalytic exegesis and provide riotous late-night viewing, Dupieux has established himself as one of the last mad scientists of French cinema. While he is currently seen as little more than a cult outsider, it is only a matter of time before he is recognized as one of the great originals of our age.
Blu-ray, DCP, DVD
SYNOPSIS May Allah Bless France! is the invigorating first feature by acclaimed French
rapper and novelist Abd Al Malik, a coming-of-age story and redemption
tale based on the writer-director’s own youth in the beleaguered projects
of Strasbourg. The film follows the struggles of Régis, a budding rapper
who relies on petty crime to fund his passion for music. But as his fellow
musicians get lured into drug dealing, teenage Régis finds salvation in the
classics of French literature and his conversion to Sufi Islam. While Abd Al
Malik’s edifying hymn to education and tolerance is first and foremost a boldly
idealistic statement, it is also a profoundly satisfying cinematic experience,
shot in high-contrast black and white and full of powerful stylistic devices
that break with convention to heighten the impact of everyday violence and
injustice. Fluidly adapting his talents as a storyteller to the screen, Abd Al
Malik revisits the “banlieue film”—the sub genre of films dealing with restless
youth in France’s tough suburbs, launched by Mathieu Kassovitz’s La Haine
in 1995—not only to give an insider’s update, but to break with the genre’s
suffocating pessimism. In these challenging times for France, and particularly
for French Muslims, this intelligent and accessible call for a potential way
forward is nothing short of essential viewing.
Abd Al Malik
Abd Al Malik
French, Arabic, Lingala
SYNOPSIS Phantom Boy is the second animated feature from Alain Gagnol and Jean-Loup Felicioli, the team behind the Oscar-nominated smash A Cat in Paris. With Phantom Boy, Gagnol and Felicioli bring their charming style of handdrawn animation and whimsical narrative to New York to tell the story of the unlikely alliance between wheelchair-bound police officer Lieutenant Tanguy and Leo, a seriously ill eleven year-old. Thanks to Leo’s ability to send a ghost-like projection of himself flying through the city and some legwork from daredevil reporter Mary Delauney (voiced by Audrey Tautou), the duo are able to save New York from a disfigured maniac without ever leaving their hospital rooms. While Phantom Boy has enough action to appeal to the most hyperactive child, its serious core about childhood illness and its amusing play with the codes of the thriller and superhero genres, not to mention its winks at great local films and series such as Manhattan and The Sopranos, make for a sophisticated viewing experience. With drawings that literally pulse with life and a foreigner’s glee at depicting New York (the dialogue is in French), the film’s greatest assets are a tender blend of poetry and comedy and an idiosyncratic look in which the human touch is always apparent.
Some have called Mustang the “Turkish Virgin Suicides.” While Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s extraordinary debut has striking thematic similarities to Sofia Coppola’s film, its spirit of revolt is all its own. Ergüven goes beyond evoking the mystery and marvels of the world of adolescent girls to decry the denial of women’s rights the world over. Mustang begins at the point when the childhoods of five orphaned sisters in the Turkish countryside come to an abrupt end: when their grandmother and uncle learn they have been seen splashing around in the sea with boys, they lock them up inside the house. From there, things only get worse: medical virginity checks, arranged marriages, suicide… But the film holds our interest and carries our hope through the unrelenting rebellion of the youngest sister, Lale, who will not accept to be deprived of attending her favorite soccer team’s game, just as she will not stand to watch yet another sister be forced into a stranger’s arms. Lale’s long-planned escape from oppression and the sisters’ unbreakable bonds and explosive liveliness in the face of a repressive society are the giddy counterbalances to a sobering account of a state of affairs that holds true for millions of young women. As such, Mustang, a French co-production and nominee for the 2015 Academy Award for best foreign film, is not only a profoundly enjoyable viewing experience, but an essential one.
In My Friend Victoria, writer-director Jean Paul Civeyrac shifts the action of Nobel prize-winning author Doris Lessing’s short story “Victoria and the Staveneys” from London to contemporary Paris, but otherwise remains faithful to Lessing’s tale of a young black woman’s uneasy relationship with a wealthy white family. Victoria (Guslagie Malanda) becomes fascinated with the family as a little girl, then later has a daughter out of wedlock with one of the sons. As she struggles both with a sense that she is losing her daughter to this bourgeois family and the growing resentment of her own son, who has a black father and does not enjoy the family’s attention, Victoria provides an unusual and welcome insight into the situation of foreigners in France today: in the most concrete terms, privilege is within her reach, but never truly hers. At first glance, My Friend Victoria is a departure for Civeyrac, a discreet but fascinating auteur whose films have sometimes flirted with the supernatural. Yet the character of Victoria and the subtle performance of Guslagie Malanda allow him to escape the clichés of social-message films and draw on the mysterious tone of his previous features to create a person whose silences open a world of questions.
Pierre and Manon are poor, but they have each other. They live in a shabby Paris apartment and take odd jobs to support themselves while they work on his documentary on the French Resistance. But when Pierre begins an affair with Elisabeth, a young film archivist, their marriage starts to fall apart. A mordant variation on the well-worn trope of the romantic triangle, In the Shadow of Women finds writer-director Philippe Garrel, the reigning master of intimate French cinema, reaching new heights by looking at love from the point of view of the women who were long his muses and creating a devastatingly frank but not unfeeling portrayal of masculine hypocrisy. Befittingly, the film provides veteran actress Clotilde Courau the opportunity to turn in a luminous, constantly surprising performance in the role of Manon and to prove once again that no director in the contemporary cinema is better with actors than Philippe Garrel. Shot on celluloid in striking black and white and running a taut 73 minutes, In the Shadow of Women is a lesson in cinematic economy and depth, packing in more genuine insight, wit, and beauty than most bloated prestige films twice its length. Pierre’s documentary on the Resistance provides a complex moral counterpoint to the central theme, as well as a rare opportunity to see extraordinary archival footage of street fighting in Paris in 1945.
Jean-Claude Carrière, Caroline Deruas, Philippe Garrel, Arlette Langmann
France, Switzerland, 2015
Blu-ray, DCP, DVD
Algeria, 1954. The War of Independence is rumbling into being. In a remote oneroom schoolhouse in the Atlas Mountains, Daru (Viggo Mortensen), the son of Spanish settlers, teaches Algerian children French. One day, local French police officers appear with Mohamed (Reda Kateb), an Algerian accused of murder, and charge Daru with escorting him to trial in the closest city while they continue to fight the growing insurrection. David Oelhoffen’s film starts off as an archetypal Western—two men thrown against each other as they traverse a barren landscape—but when Daru and Mohamed find themselves stuck between French troops and the rebel army, it turns into a gripping meditation on the fate of individuals tossed to and fro by sociopolitical forces beyond their control. Freely adapted from Albert Camus’s short story The Guest (from the collection Exile and the Kingdom), Far from Men has the classic sheen of the films of Hollywood’s Golden Age: big moral questions projected onto vast landscapes, steely performances from its two stars, and, most importantly, a universality grounded in the specific. While Far from Men is essential viewing for its insight into a conflict whose effects continue to be felt, it is first and foremost a universal story of civilians faced with the absurdity of war.
David Oelhoffen, Antoine Lacomblez
Based on The Guest by Albert Camus
French, Arabic, Spanish
Blu-ray, DCP, DVD