'My Afternoons With Margueritte' review:

Watching 'My Afternoons With Margueritte' is comparable to taking a good hour and half long look at the film's warm and sickly sweet poster. On it is a park bench upon which sits an affable and rotund Gérard Depardieu alongside a frail and kindly looking old lady, Margueritte (Gisèle Casadesus). The colours are sunny and vivid and the image is comforting and non-threatening. Nothing that happens in the film does anything deviate from this saccharin poster image. Certainly we are shown Depardieu's Germain having a turbulent relationship with his seemingly indifferent mother. There are backflashes to his torrid time in school, belittled by his teachers for his illiteracy. We also witness how Germain is likewise belittled by his friends at the local bistro. Yet the bulk of this film is self-consciously heartwarming, relaxed and "feel good". Really Germain's troubles only exist to give the character a starting point from which to launch into a palatable journey of friendship and self-discovery.

The plot concerns a chance meeting, as one afternoon the fifty-something Germain happens upon the ninety-five year-old Margueritte in the local park whilst going to count the pigeons, whom he has named - so familiar is he with their various quirks and personalities. At this point we have already seen that he is slightly tactless and dim-witted, but the scene with the pigeons tells us that whilst Germain is an oaf, he is at least a well-meaning and good-natured one. Margueritte, it happens, also enjoys the company of this particular bunch of pigeons and a friendship is born. Soon Margueritte is reading French literary classics to Germain and an interest in literacy is ignited by the benevolent old dear. The film is directed by the veteran French director Jean Becker (and is rumoured to be his last) and is adapted from a beloved French novel by Marie-Sabine Roger (Tete en Friche).



Strangely, due to some sexual references and Germain's crudity, this gentle film about a quest for literacy has received a '15' rating from the BBFC. To put that in perspective, that's the same rating as was awarded to 'Kick-Ass' (where a 12 year-old girl says "cunt" before dismembering a roomful of ethnic and gender stereotypes) and 'The Expendables' (a bloody film with a higher body count than many small wars). By contrast 'My Afternoons With Margueritte' is a film where hopping from word to word in a French dictionary is described as "an adventure" (I'm not making this up) as the characters share the occasional baguette during reliably good weather.

The film takes place in a broad (and very French) fantasy world, where the supporting characters are colourful eccentrics and where Germain can repeatedly deface a war memorial (by adding his own name in pen) without receiving anything more than a half-hearted rebuke. It is also a reality where Depardieu's obese, illiterate character (who lives in his mother's front garden in a trailer) has somehow attracted the love of a beautiful young women who wants to bear his children. The characters are functionary and cartoon-like, with Margueritte an idealised figure about whom we learn almost nothing. Ever smiling, Margueritte speaks in banal pleasantries and seemingly exists only as an advocate for the pleasures of reading. She is "nice" - with all the boringness that that word conveys.



Perhaps you could find something in her dependence on imagined literary worlds that suggests a silent sadness at her own lonely (and childless) existence - especially as her surviving relatives are depicted as basically uncaring. But Casadesus' smile never lets up as Margueritte is portrayed as unfailingly upbeat. Depardieu is a charismatic presence who does well to elevate his character to the point where he is almost interesting, but the film conspires against him to nullify this budding spark of genuine feeling. Despite all this, I found it impossible to dislike 'My Afternoons With Margueritte', just like it's impossible to take an active dislike towards those tartan coloured biscuit tins that you find in the stale and faintly depressing house of an elderly relative - except without the same sense of obligation. I needn't have visited Germain and Margueritte and next time I'll make my excuses.

'My Afternoons With Margueritte' is rated '15' by the BBFC and is out now at all Picturehouse cinemas and many others nationwide.

'The Illusionist' review: a slight and melancholy animation from a modern master...

Fans of Sylvain Chomet's surreal 2003 animated feature 'Belleville Rendez-vous' will not be surprised to find his follow-up, 'The Illusionist', is a melancholic, mostly silent tale with an old-fashioned sensibility and a penchant for physical comedy. What this latest feature does, however, is take Chomet's obvious Jacques Tati influence to a new extreme. Whereas 'Belleville Rendez-vous' was full of playful allusions to the celebrated comedy film-maker (such as a poster for 'Les Vacances de M. Hulot' - a gag he repeats here), 'The Illusionist' goes one step further with the titular character bearing Tati's real surname (Tatischeff), and aping his mannerisms and appearance. It is also, most importantly, based on a long-forgotten and previously un-filmed screenplay written by Tati himself. And so 'The Illusionist' is, in its quirky, surreal way, a slightly more grounded film than his first as it functions as a sort of loose biography of Tati's bittersweet relationship with his own daughter (the late Sophie Tatischeff - to whom the film is fittingly dedicated).

If you have ever left a movie derisively declaring that "nothing happened", then it is safe to say that 'The Illusionist' is not going to be your idea of a fun time. The "plot" is slight: set in the 1950's an aging magician finds his act no longer appeals to people in an age of rock n' roll and television. But when he plays a remote Scottish island he finds a new fan in the form of a young girl who comes to believe he is genuinely magical. Perhaps beguiled by the young girl's sincerity and good nature, or possibly just because he has found an appreciative audience, the magician takes the girl under his wing and, like Chaplin in 'City Lights', has to work menial jobs in secret in order to maintain his increasingly expensive illusions - lest the girl learn the truth. This is essentially it. But this is enough. It is a serene film which takes you across the Scottish countryside and into a beautifully realised picture of 1950's Edinburgh (the city where Chomet's Django Studios is actually based).



It is a film which you can relax and enjoy as it washes over you. It is calming and purely joyful - that is, at least until its poignant and sombre conclusion, which is pitched perfectly. Whilst it never caused me to well up in the way something like 'Up' did, it still provided much to think about. Perhaps it is a film that asks you to be more reflective than reactive. It certainly isn't shamelessly manipulative like 'Toy Story 3'. I wouldn't like to spoil the ending, but I'll just say that there is a bit of business involving a pencil at the film's climax which is on the level of genius. It is also nice to see another traditionally animated film in 2010.

I have nothing against computer-generated animated films. However, in the last decade they had come to supersede all other forms of animation. But now that Disney have returned to hand-drawn and good stop-frame films like 'Coraline' and 'Fantastic Mr. Fox' are being made, Chomet's film is another reason to be cheerful for fans of the art form. There is some distracting CGI in 'The Illusionist' that seems to harken back in early 90s Disney, notably the cars, trains and one ill-conceived aerial shot of Edinburgh, but generally it is one of the nicest looking animated films you will ever see. To say it is charming is to revert to a wet cliché, but it is exactly that. Especially in its loving detail, which includes an accurate reproduction of the inside of Edinburgh's own Cameo Picturehouse, among other things.



It is true that the characters are broad caricatures (much like they would have been in one of Tati's own films), with a be-kilted, drunken Scotsman, a fat opera-singer and a number of unflattering depictions of the teeth of British aristocratic stock, but there is no malice here. In fact there is great humanity in the film, which also depicts a number of other vaudevillian entertainers now tragically down on their luck, such as a suicidal clown and a homeless ventriloquist forced to pawn his dummy.

'The Illusionist' is not just light entertainment, but it is a poignant and mournful love letter to a long-dead world of light entertainment (reminiscent of another Chaplin feature: 'Limelight'). In recent years Pixar have lead the way in addressing the fears of aging, of loss and of growing obsolete, in films as diverse as 'The Incredibles', 'Finding Nemo' and, of course, 'Up'. But what is brave about Chomet's film is that he is prepared to end on that particular note of melancholia. Though with animation this beautiful, Chomet is certainly keeping the wonder and the magic of Jacques Tati alive.

'The Illusionist' is rated 'PG' by the BBFC and is currently playing across Picturehouse cinemas, including Brighton's Duke of York's.

'Le Concert' review: If Jim Davidson could play violin...

'Le Concert', directed by the Jewish Romanian-born director Radu Mihaileanu, is a big cultural melting pot of a movie. On the surface (and from most posters) a French production boasting 'Inglourious Basterds' star Melanie Laurent, though many of the actors and much of the dialogue is Russian. Fitting then that the story concerns a once-great Orchestra conductor, Andreï Filipov (Aleksei Guskov), thrown out of the Bolshoi for standing up against racial intolerance towards Jews under Brezhnev. But, 30 years after the this injustice, Filipov intercepts an invitation to play in Paris, intended for the Bolshoi and resolves to take a rag-tag group of Russians, from all walks of life (including a wealthy oligarch), to France disguised as the professionals.

Yet, for a film which makes a feature of the fight against racially motivated intolerance, 'Le Concert' is pretty happy to indulge in stereotype. Uncomfortably so: the orthodox Jewish musicians miss practice because they are hawking their wares across Paris from out of a suitcase; the unskilled workers immediately leave the hotel and become illegal immigrants working menial jobs; the gypsies make their living from stealing and forging documents and an Arab restaurateur threatens one patron by saying "they call me Muhammad Al-Qaeda". Some may see this as a good-natured celebration of difference, but I couldn't help but squirm uncomfortably in my chair as racial caricature after racial caricature was exploited for humour in this movie which very quickly descends into farce.



'Le Concert' certainly thinks it is a comedy and it isn't afraid to go pretty broad with it. An oligarch's daughter's wedding is marred by an all-out gangland shootout, for example (which feels as misjudged and out of place as it sounds), whilst the gypsies fake 80-odd passports very publicly at an airport. Maybe this is a very broad cartoonish way of commenting on corruption and criminality in contemporary Russia, but it strains credibility. Especially as the film plays it relatively straight at other points. It is also a film which is terrifically critical of the old Soviet Union and communism, with plenty of jokes about the old regime, so adding that to the cynicism about the modern era, you get a film which is pretty nihilistic.

Melanie Laurent is the film's saving grace, as she has an intensity about her which is always stirring. She is one of those actors who can communicate so much with a subtle change of expression. Aleksei Guskov is also pretty good, always portraying his character with a touching sweetness as well as a dangerous obsession. But mostly everyone in 'Le Concert' shouts their lines at one another in a way which is very unappealing and engaging. It is a film which seems to hate Russian people. For example, when the 80-odd strong Orchestra arrives at their hotel they are all continuously shouting all at once, bursting through the doorway en masse and surrounding the hotelier, waving their arms in the air frantically. These people are idiots, their characters thinly drawn and unsympathetic and, as a result, their plight is uninteresting.



The film scooped several César awards earlier in the year, for Best Sound Design and Best Music, and these were probably deserved. The Tchaikovsky music performed at the titular concert is mesmerising and intense. The fact that the final scene is more or less a long unbroken musical performance is the film's strongest suit - and in that respect it ends of a high note (no pun intended). But for much of the film's running time, it is nothing more than a misfiring comedy of racial difference that feeds off the very intolerance it claims to be in opposition to. A woeful film.

'Le Concert' is rated '15' by the BBFC and is still on a limited release in the UK.

'Gainsbourg' review: Fun, imaginative, but insubstantial...

Most comic book adaptations are pretty far removed from their source material. There are a few notable exceptions to this. Frank Miller was credited as a co-director, along with Robert Rodriquez, for the almost shot-for-shot 2005 adaptation of his comic book 'Sin City'. Similarly, Daniel Clowes worked closely with director Terry Zwigoff in 2001, co-writing the adaptation of his own 'Ghost World'. But otherwise comic book movies (as diverse as 'X-Men', 'The Road to Perdition' and 'V for Vendetta') are a separate animal, sometimes even disowned by the comics original creator (see any Alan Moore adaptation). Usually, the rights to make the comic are purchased by a studio and somebody unconnected to the material is hired to make a movie. Sometimes, as with most superhero movies, only the characters - and possibly their origins - are retained, the plot lines often differing wildly from anything in the comics' own continuity.



But in France, the home of auteur theory, a couple of quirky, creator-led adaptations have come to cinemas in recent years. In 2007 Marjane Satrapi co-wrote and directed the quite brilliant animated version of her graphic novel 'Persepolis'. And now Joann Sfar has written and directed a biopic of the legendary French singer-songwriter, Serge Gainsbourg, based on his own comic book. And, just like Satrapi's film, 'Gainsbourg' is highly stylised, playful and experimental whilst never straying too far away from reality. So when Guillermo del Toro regular Doug Jones turns up in a bizarre costume representing both Gainsbourg's self-image and on-stage persona, it doesn't seem out of place. Nor does it seem in opposition to the performances from many of the quirky and eccentric supporting players such as Yolande Moreau (who has a small role as the singer and actress Fréhel).

For fans of post-war French popular music, I am sure 'Gainsbourg' is a must-see film, featuring lots of musical performances and with actors playing various singers the 50s up to the 80s including France Gall, Boris Vian, Juliette Gréco, Les Frères Jacques and, of course, Jane Birkin and Brigitte Bardot. However, as I personally know very little about Serge Gainsbourg or the wider French music scene, 'Gainsbourg' proved a fairly frustrating film. It is episodic, taking us from Serge's childhood up to near the end of his life, hardly stopping for breath along the way. Everything is painted in broad brushstrokes, scenes are brief sketches and icons are played as icons rather than real people. It is a film about myths which simply serves to repeat them. There is certainly fun to be had here, but there is no insight to be gained. Those in the know might appreciate the lightness of touch on show here, but I for one needed more of a context for each (seemingly unconnected) event.



"How popular is he at this point?" and "How did he go from writing songs for cabaret acts to sleeping with Brigitte Bardot?" were among the questions I was asking which went unanswered. When a record producer tells Gainsbourg and Birkin (played ably by the British Lucy Gordon who tragically committed suicide soon after the production finished shooting) that their new single "Je t'aime... moi non plus" will spark mass controversy, we are never shown the results. Refreshing brevity for those in the know, perhaps, but I needed a bit more information. It is a film made for fans - and that's fine - but don't expect to find out anything you couldn't glean from the man's wikipedia entry.

The film does make a connection between the central figure's adoption of his stage persona and his growing up Jewish in Nazi occupied France, suggesting that a degree of self-loathing manifested itself as bombast sophistication and self-conscious elegance. This is conveyed via Doug Jones' absurdist caricature costume representations of Gainsbourg, which interact with the real, more introverted version of the man (played an uncanny doppelganger in Eric Elmosnino) as well as with the other characters in each scene, crossing a line between fantasy and reality. The childhood scenes, in which young then Lucien Ginsburg (Kacey Mottet Klein) is followed around by a huge, Nazi propaganda-inspired caricature Jewish head, are a real highlight.



But in the end it is very much the breezy and whimsical comic book movie version of this icon's life. Not without some arresting visuals, imaginative touches and stirring renditions of classic pieces of kitsch pop (the enthusiastic, up tempo recital of 'Baby Pop' is a highlight). Sfar's film is willfully enigmatic, like the man himself - and I am sure that was the intention - but ultimately it made me hungry for a more in-depth look at Serge Gainsbourg's life and career. Maybe this renewed interest is the film's real achievement.

'Gainsbourg' is still playing in the UK and is rated '15' by the BBFC. It is doing fairly well in the UK too, and is still hanging on in the top ten.

'Leaving' review: I Am Bored...

In recent times Kristen Scott Thomas has moved easily between big budget Hollywood movies such as 'The Golden Compass' and interesting little British films like 'Nowhere Boy'. There is nothing especially odd or exceptional about this. But what is rather more remarkable is that she has spent just as much time carving out a career in French language fare like 'Tell No One' and 'I've Loved You So Long'. We are used to seeing European actors move into English language film, but the reverse is rare. I can recall seeing Jodie Foster make a brief cameo appearance in Jeunet's 'A Very Long Engagement' a few years ago, but I am hard pressed to think of any other notable examples.

The latest in this vein of interesting Gallic offerings starring Scott Thomas comes in the form of Catherine Corsini's 'Leaving', the tale of a bored bourgeois housewife (Suzanne) who begins a love affair which both enables her to experience passion and live life again, as well as causing drama and friction within her family. It is in many ways very similar to the Italian-language film 'I Am Love' - which coincidentally also stars an English actress in Tilda Swinton. In 'Leaving' the object of Suzanne's sexual desire comes in the form of a builder who her wealthy husband has employed - distractingly played by the evil Captain Vidal from 'Pan's Labyrinth', the Spannish actor Sergi López.



This tale of sexual reawakening, forbidden love and of the impact of divorce upon a family, can be interesting. When handled properly it can be intense and deeply moving. However 'Leaving' is the single most dull movie I have sat through this year. All the characters (including the children) are unlikeable, the human emotions and events that are depicted are completely silly and handled with an unappealing level of earnestness. There is not really a moment of humour or levity. Instead we are treated to boring and faintly irritating movie which lurches from one uncomfortable sex scene to the next with only the blatant product placement for Peugeot holding any interest.

Suzanne travels between France and Spain frequently in her ultra-reliable French-made car, with a car ad aesthetic taking over whenever she glides across the picturesque countryside. I was not much of a fan of the aforementioned 'I Am Love', however after viewing 'Leaving' I can appreciate that movie's score, it's cinematography and it's set design - all of which are self-consciously "arty" yet provide a level of interest and entertainment missing here in this bland and conventional drama.



On a dramatic level the film has very little to offer. Kristen Scott Thomas' Suzanne could be seen to behave in a way which is interestingly morally grey and her husband's initial reaction to her infidelity is intriguing and sympathetic as it is one of extreme and inconsolable grief. However, seemingly unsure of how to navigate these characters through a story of emotional complexity and moral ambiguity, the film almost immediately finds safer, more surefooted ground. The husband (played by the Israeli-born actor, Yvan Attal) is soon turned into a two-dimensional villain and audience sympathies are reassuringly left to lie with the protagonist. With this lazy writing any hope that 'Leaving' might shed some light on the human condition quickly vanishes and we can set ourselves to autopilot until the film's contrived and completely overblown conclusion.

In the end Kristen Scott Thomas' grasp of French is impressive and I applaud her versatility, however 'Leaving' has little to recommend it. If you want to see an up-market version of this story, watch 'I Am Love'. If you want to see a really good film about temptation and desire for a married woman gone numb, then watch 'Brief Encounter'. This film has no real reason to exist.

'Leaving' is rated '15' by the BBFC and can still be seen in selected cinemas across the UK.

'Breathless' re-issue review: Back in cinemas and looking good...

Jean-Luc Godard's 'À Bout de Souffle' ('Breathless') may not have been the inaugural film of the French New Wave, coming as it did a year after Truffaut's 'The 400 Blows', but in many ways it has become the most iconic, the image of Jean Seberg and Jean-Paul Belmondo walking down the Champs-Élysées now synonymous with the influential movement. Boasting a script co-written by Truffaut and Godard it is perhaps an appropriate signifier. Now in its 50th year, the film has been the subject of a restoration and remastering effort and has now been re-released in selected cinemas.

As with the re-releases of 'The Godfather' and 'The Red Shoes' last year, the primary benefit of the restoration is that these old and "important" films are once again available to see as they should be seen: projected on a big screen in a dark room. The new print of 'Breathless' is beautiful and sharp, but as with those other two films (and Kurosawa's 'Rashomon' last month) I was most taken aback by the atmosphere and power the film gained when set back into its original context.



Up on the screen the film can hold your complete attention better than a television can, and this isn't just down to the size of the screen and the darkness of the room. For the most part it is the social experience - more specifically the rules we must follow in a public cinema. You can not (or at least ought not) talk to the person next to or look at your mobile phone. You can not pause to make a cup of tea and you hesitate to leave for the toilet. In the cinema these norms of social behaviour work in favour of the art form: you are there to watch the movie and you watch the movie properly.

Watching it this way you can notice more than you might at home on a DVD. I was able to better appreciate the ingenious and ground-breaking camera techniques, such as the jump-cuts and the long continuous takes. Likewise themes, such as Michel's (Belmondo) obsession with American popular culture and Patricia's (Seberg) obsession with being loved, were more apparent. The characters are not in love with each other, but with images and cultural symbols. "When we talked, I talked about me, you talked about you, when we should have talked about each other", says Michel near the films climax and he seems to sum up the relationship as it has been. All of it was clearer and better defined in a theatre.



The most extraordinary thing about 'Breathless' is that it opens with a car theft and subsequent murder of a policeman and follows a man on the run, but that this story seems to take a back seat - at times seeming unimportant. Indeed the murder itself is afforded little screen time and is boiled down to the most crucial elements: the trigger being pulled and the body falling dead. Instead, the film is about the central relationship between Patricia and Michel, with elements of crime thriller and Film Noir on the side. For the most part Michel seems relaxed. He walks the streets openly and feels under such limited threat that he even tails a policemen who is looking for him. He continues to steal cars. Late in the film when he learns the police know his whereabouts he makes no sudden movements. He does not run or hide.

Written by two film critics it does not seem like too big a stretch to say that Michel behaves as though he is the self-conscious star of his own film, taking his Boggart obsession to the extreme and living that persona to the last. He is an empty vessel for popular culture. Patricia is no better, she is shown to be vain and disloyal. But if the movie seems cynical about people, it is perhaps more cynical about movies. After all, Godard once said "all you need for a movie is a gun and a girl".

In 'Breathless' there are tons of self-referential in-jokes about film itself: two scenes take place at the cinema, Jean-Pierre Melville makes an appearance and Michel declines to buy an issue of Cahiers Du Cinema (saying he objects to youth). There are also running jokes about language (with Patricia constantly asking Michel what various words mean) and there is even a lot of snappy, pseudo-intellectual, cod philosophy ("Informers inform, burglars burgle, murderers murder, lovers love").

There is a dubious sexual politics here too, as Michel, like the film's other male characters, is an unapologetic misogynist. Add all of this to the raw beauty of the images and 'Breathless' is certainly a film worthy of discussion and its place in film history. Godard said that he was "destroying all the old principles rather than creating something new" with 'Breathless'. But far from an iconoclast, 'Breathless' is a genuine movie icon. And there is no better place to see it than at the cinema. So catch it whilst you can.

'Breathless' is rated '15' by the BBFC and is on very limited release in selected cinemas across the UK.

'Heartbreaker' review: More fun than you'd think...

'Heartbreaker' doesn't seen to offer a lot at a first glance. Watching the trailer you see what looks like a by-the-numbers romantic comedy, with broad jokes and a sumptuous, Glamour Magazine friendly mise en scène. Added to that is the fact that its director, Pascal Chaumeil, has previously only worked on French television. And whilst its male lead, Romain Duris, is known for Jacques Audiard's acclaimed 'The Beat That My Heart Skipped', his female co-star Vanessa Paradis is more famous as a pop star than an actress.

The set-up is high concept stuff: Alex (Duris) is a man with a gift for seduction so great that he works professionally as a seducer of unhappy women. Friends and family of women in bad relationships call upon Alex to show the women that she is not with the right guy and that she deserves more. He has ground rules, chief among them is that he will not knowingly separate a happy couple. However, this is tested when a wealthy father offers Alex $50,000 to break-up his daughter Juliette's (Paradis) impending engagement, with ten days before the wedding. Alex refuses, as she seems happy, but crippling debts owed to threatening mobsters soon forces his hand and he poses as Juliette's bodyguard. Hilarity ensues.



On the surface it looks like a light and frothy, low-carb, calorie-free piece of cinema and the film's 105 minutes certainly do nothing to challenge this preconception. But it would take a hard hearted and cynical individual not to admit that there are a few genuine laughs to be had it what is probably the most fun, least cliché-ridden romantic comedy I was seen in a couple of years.

One of the main factors in my enjoyment was Romain Duris who is an extremely gifted and charismatic comic actor. I found myself laughing at his every movement and facial expression. There is a scene where he nervously and half-heartedly sings along to the Wham! song 'Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go' whilst driving. He mumbles his way through it, missing out lyrics and emphasising the odd line. Embarrassing, out-of-tune singing is not new to film comedy, but here Duris takes quite an ordinary bit of comic business and runs with it in a way that is genuinely amusing. Like the Mexican actor Gael García Bernal, Duris is able to be genuinely charming and attractive, yet he isn't afraid to be self-deprecating either and that combination is winsome. He is also (as he proves in the third act) a damn fine dancer!



Paradis is less interesting a presence, not helped by the fact her character spends a fair portion of the film being a bit unlikeable, giving our hero a hard time. But she isn't bad by any stretch of the imagination. There are also nice performances from Julie Ferrier ('Micmacs') and Belgian actor François Damiens ('JCVD'), who play a husband and wife duo working for Alex. The couple do the surveillance and research work for Alex, pinning down the strength and weaknesses, the likes and dislikes, of his targets. Ferrier in particular is quite funny, as her character constantly adopts new disguises wherever the group go.

It is also to the film's great credit that the inevitable scene of realisation (where Paradis learns Duris' identity) is not followed by a scene of conflict or misunderstanding as is so often the case in lazier films of this kind. It is for reasons such as this that 'Heartbreaker' stands out amongst its similarly glossy peers.



With its classy, chic Monaco setting and high-fashion characters, 'Heartbreaker' also offers a less tacky, genuinely classy alternative to the horrifying likes of 'Sex & the City 2'. There is really nothing to strongly object to here. Perhaps the scenes involving a silent Algerian strongman are ill-conceived and could easily be excised without doing the plot any harm, along with the entire "owing the gangsters money" sub-plot. But the film is fun enough and is knowing enough (subverting genre clichés more often that it conforms to them) that its flaws are easy to forgive and its joys easy to appreciate.

By no means a candidate for 'Film of the Year', like I said from the start this is throwaway, disposable stuff. It's the sort of film you'll forget you ever saw a week after you saw it. But for the time you are in the cinema it is more fun, more charming and more entertaining than it seemed to have any right to be. Rumoured to be subject of an American remake in the near future, it is doubtful whether the film will work without Romain Duris.

'Heartbreaker' is rated '15' by the BBFC and can be seen all week at Brighton's Duke of York's cinema.

'White Material' review: A handsomely made, but oddly unfulfilling post-colonial drama...

Claire Denis’ ‘White Material’ comes with many a high recommendation. It placed (joint) 6th in Sight and Sound magazine’s 2009 poll of critics and it was not the only Denis directed film on the list as ‘35 Shots of Rum’ (also released in France last year) was joint 2nd. Jonathan Romney wrote that having two films in the list served to “reassert her position as one of the most avidly followed auteurs in art cinema” and, in the pages of the same publication, Nick James has reserved even higher praise for Denis writing that “there’s no better film-maker working in the world right now.” Given all this praise it is hardly surprising that ‘White Material’ was heralded as the July issue’s Film of the Month. Elsewhere, Peter Bradshaw’s four star review of the film in The Guardian saw him label it her best since ‘Beau Travail’ and called Denis “a poet of mood and moment”.

This puts me in an awkward position as a reviewer - one I found myself in earlier this year with ‘A Prophet’ – in that I am left wondering whether I have the courage to be like the little boy in the story of the Emperor’s new clothes and declare publicly that I can’t see what they are talking about. ‘White Material’ (and to a lesser extent ’35 Shots of Rum’) is a movie I almost hesitate to criticise as I start to doubt whether I understood it at all. “What did I miss?” I ask. I’m sure it’s in there and I scratch my head whilst fighting against my heart in a vain attempt to locate what I am missing.



I start to try I identify what other critics may be seeing: Claire Denis makes films of undeniable beauty and yet they are also always gritty enough so as to escape being called glossy or shallow. They take no particular viewpoint or political stance (at least none that I can identify) and so they can be lauded as non-judgemental and held up as a sort of objective “truth”. They are slow and subtle works, at their finest capable of evoking great joy and sorrow and of being tense and even frightening whilst still being poignant and tender. But time and time again they leave me cold, unengaged and even a little bored.

Why should I be bored? ‘White Material’ is set in post-colonial Africa in the midst of a civil war. There is barbarity and intimidation throughout. There are scenes of graphic violence, which should be all the more shocking by their close resemblance to reality: Isabelle Huppert portrays a woman whose family coffee plantation is under threat in a changing political climate – one which will see her become the victim of a racially motivated attack not too dissimilar from the kind seen in Zimbabwe in recent years (as shown in the documentary ‘Mugabe and the White African’). There are also child soldiers, reminiscent of those in another recent feature: ‘Johnny Mad Dog’. The political relevance of this story and the potential for something more polemical about racism, colonialism and modern Africa are at the route of my frustration with ‘White Material’. It could say so much and yet seems proud to say nothing at all.



Making overtly political films is very much against current critical favour. To confirm this you only need to watch a few interviews with Kathryn Bigelow as she marched towards her 'Best Director' Oscar earlier this year for ‘The Hurt Locker’. In almost every one she declared proudly that the film was A-political and in no way a comment on rights and wrongs of the Iraq war itself. Ever since Michael Moore popularised left-wing political activism in the early part of the last decade (to some making it seem crass), it has been accepted that the best films are not ideological but simply observe an event impartially.

But one of the best articles from the Cahiers Du Cinema that I ever read at university (and to my shame I can not remember its author) discussed how film is always ideological and can not help but be so. In fact when a filmmaker claims that their work is not ideological, instead suggesting that it is a reflection of how the world actually is, what we see is “truth” as they see it: the “real” world artificially constructed by them and shown through their lens. This sort of filmmaking is somehow more insidious and, even, more dangerous. The people who admit they are making a point are at least flagging up that their film is an idea, whereas when Michael Bay makes a sexist, racist, neo-conservative 'Transformers' movie he can call it entertainment and dismiss any political readings of the movie altogether.

I am not for a moment suggesting every filmmaker needs to be Jean-Luc Godard. In fact on this very blog I have lauded several films in the past for their honesty or objectivity ('The Hurt Locker' among them). But to set a film in post-colonial Africa and say nothing about race or politics whilst you are there is not, for me at least, a fulfilling exercise. Perhaps this could be forgiven if Isabelle Huppert did not cut such an unsympathetic and slightly annoying figure as the protagonist. Nicolas Duvauchelle ('The Girl on the Train')is slightly better as her son who, after one encounter with child soldiers, shaves his head begins carrying a gun, clearly now insane. His unsettling presence suggests a threat which never materializes and he is decidedly underused, his motivations never investigated. Christophe ('Highlander') Lambert is the husband and father and is a solid if unspectacular performer, but again has little to do in a film which is content to follow Huppert around as she consistently ignores warnings from workers, family members and the army about the inevitable violence and disaster to come.



The full extent of her ignorance of the situation is apparent when she visits a pharmacy and comments that they have perhaps gone over the top with security, having an armed guard outside. They respond by saying that they fear it is not enough and later we see that they have been murdered in their shop. If the film creates anxiety it is at the realisation that you are following the only character who has no idea what is taking place, or at least a character who is deluding themselves in an attempt to cling to the past. Unlike the real-life Mike Campbell in 'Mugabe and the White African', Huppert does not come across as strong or brave: just stupid.

Her stupidity is not a compelling enough reason to watch what is happening or to care much about it. I can't help but feel that someone like Werner Herzog would have gotten more out of the extremes of this situation and the insanity of these characters and in doing so he would have said something about human absurdity. In Denis' hands I was left to appreciate the stunning photography and feel nothing, emotionally or intellectually. We are not shown the causes of the trouble which is taking place, instead we are just left to watch a piece of apathetic "oh dearism". And that is a tragedy. I am yet to be convinced that Denis is wearing any clothes.

'White Material' is out now in the UK and is showing at the Duke of York's Picturehouse until Thursday the 8th of July. It is rated '15' by the BBFC.

'The Girl on the Train' review: Téchiné's latest fails to satisfy...

‘The Girl on the Train’, a new film directed and co-written by the multi-award-winning André Téchiné, is very much a film of two halves. Apparently loosely based on a real-life event infamous in its native France and set within the context of a wave of anti-Semitic hate crimes, the film follows a young girl named Jeanne who one day tears her clothes, cuts herself and draws swastikas on her body, before claiming to the authorities that some youths attacked her whilst she rode a train. She adds to the recent concern about racist attacks by claiming that she was singled out because she was carrying the business card of a Jewish lawyer, also suggesting that crowds of people on the train saw the incident and did nothing to intervene. The media quickly buy into this lie and run with the story sparking popular outrage across France. Soon Jeanne’s mother is taking calls from the nation’s President expressing his sympathies for the attack. The second half of the film deals with Jeanne telling the lie and its aftermath (much of which is based on reality), whilst the first half is Téchiné’s attempt to understand why she told this lie and deals with the (highly fictionalized) events leading up to it.

If Téchiné is considered one of France’s most significant post-New Wave filmmakers, then it is only fitting that the film does not come without names of top acting pedigree also. The Belgian actress Émilie Dequenne (who won the ‘Best Actress’ prize at Cannes in 1999) heads up a well-respected cast as she plays the titular girl, Jeanne. Her troubled and well-meaning mother, Louise, is played by the Academy Award nominated Catherine Deneuve (a frequent Téchiné collaborator), whilst the Jewish lawyer and hate crime activist, Samuel Bleistein, is played by Michel Blanc (a star of Téchiné’s last film, ‘The Witnesses’). Finally, a rising star, Nicolas Duvauchelle (who was also in last year’s Claire Denis film, ‘White Material’), plays Jeanne’s streetwise boyfriend Franck. It is their love affair which dominates the film’s first half and attempts to go some way to explaining Jeanne’s later actions.



The cast do an able job with the material they are given, however the film feels strangely like a low-budget television drama. There are some nice shots and many scenes (notably those in the sunshine) are pleasantly lit, but it is paced far too slowly and outstays its welcome fairly quickly. There are whole scenes which seem to serve no obvious purpose in advancing Jeanne’s story. For instance, there is a sub-plot (involving a bickering divorced couple who later sleep together and then finally reconcile) which could easily have been excised from the film entirely. When I first saw the film I was unaware of the “true story” element and (not having read a synopsis) did not know that Jeanne was going to stage a racially motivated hate crime by beating herself up. The fact that when she did it came as a huge surprise to me (and seemed to alter the tone of the film so completely) I think counts against the film, as the first half which leads up to the event and is supposed to provide some sort of character motivation and simply fails to do so. I am still none the wiser about Jeanne's motivations.

We are left asking questions, such as: did she do it for attention? But we could have asked those questions had the film only depicted the “true story” events. Téchiné sheds no light on this extraordinary lie and its consequences. He depicts Jeanne watching a holocaust documentary and weeping. He also shows that she has seen the news reports of the previous (genuine) hate crimes against Jewish people. But neither of these moments really add up to pretending you've been persecuted. Perhaps Téchiné is suggesting that she feels marginalised and suspects that the only way she can get her voice heard is by capitalising on this media event. We are left intrigued to find out more about the real-life case, but not especially thrilled by or satisfied with Téchiné’s film.

'The Girl on the Train' is out in the UK now on a limited release, including one showing at Brighton's Duke of York's Picturehouse on July 20th. The film is rated '15' by the BBFC. Jon and I covered it in the latest Splendor Podcast also.

'Lourdes' review: My Sweet Lourdes

‘Lourdes’ is a French film (by Austrian director Jessica Hausner) which follows Christine (Sylvie Testud, also seen in the Oscar-winning ‘La Vie en Rose’ in 2007), a woman paralysed from the neck down, as she goes on a pilgrimage to the iconic Catholic site named in the title. There is the sense in ‘Lourdes’ that Christine is possibly not drawn to the journey by her Catholicism, but by the fact that joining up with the group of nuns (who take parties of wheelchair bound people on this pilgrimage) is enabling her to see more of the world: “It is difficult to travel in a wheelchair” Christine tellingly admits early on. But Christine is not cynical or manipulative and has the best intensions. She is not unmoved by Catholic doctrine either, as she clings to the hope that a divine miracle will help her to walk again, a hope encouraged in dreams of the Virgin Mary.

For someone as irreligious as I, the films greatest pleasures are found in its representation of the tacky and crassly commercial side of Catholicism as an organisation, with Mary figurines readily on sale at Holy sites and gaudy neon halo’s adorning many of the Mary statues seen in the film. Similarly, the pilgrims take their group photo on a bench designed exactly for such a purpose outside one religious monument and Christine herself refers to ‘Lourdes’ as “too touristy” and finds it lacking in culture. Amusingly the music on the soundtrack seems to imply commerciality even to the films version of the Ava Maria, which sounds cheesy and synthesized. The film even culminates at a Catholic disco.



But to say that the film is itself anti-Catholic would be unfair and the things I have seen as evidence of commerciality and opportunism could be seen differently by those coming to the film with a different outlook. As the (usually still) camera lingers on scenes of the pilgrims eating dinner, it is up to the viewer to decide where to look and what to make of what is happening during a number of terrifically detailed scenes. It can also be said that the pilgrims themselves seem sincere, as do the majority of the nuns and priests depicted (with the possible exception of a young nun who seems to view the pilgrimage as a Catholic holiday camp and an alternative to summer skiing). Most telling of all is the fact that the film doesn’t do anything to discourage the idea that divine miracles can and do happen. This is another detail which helps to keep the film pleasantly ambiguous and stops it from seeming at all polemical.

Instead of asking the question “do miracles happen?” the film looks at who they may happen to and is mostly concerned with the reactions of people to potential miracles. Perhaps (the film posits) miracles may happen to the nicest people, not necessarily the most pious, and the film would seem to suggest that the two are not necessarily linked. Christine is never mean to anyone, even though she would have cause: she is frequently patronised for being in her condition and sometimes forgotten or ignored by the nun assigned to care for her. She is only really interested in making the best of things. By contrast some of her more pious co-pilgrims seem to gossip and view the receipt of a miracle as some sort of competitive sport.

To say that ‘Lourdes’ is a slow moving film of subtle observations and small moments would be an understatement, as to many it would probably fit the description that “nothing happens”. There is a story here, but it is slight (and I have done my level best not to spoil it here). It is in the interactions of the characters and specifically their treatment of Christine that the film is strongest. It is odd perhaps that a film that accepts the possibility of miracles could be so matter of fact and naturalistic, but maybe that is the point: in a world where miracles exist (and are indeed scrutinized and recorded by the Church) are miracles simply as banal as everything else?

'Lourdes' is playing in a select number of screens across the UK and can be seen at the Duke of York's in Brighton until Thursday. It is rated a 'U' by the BBFC.

'The Father of My Children' review: Film Un Certain Regard

This review may contain a SPOILER for those who don’t know the story on which this film is loosely based.

'The Father of My Children' is a new French drama by the promising young director Mia Hansen-Løve. The film won the Un Certain Regard award at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, which is (apparently) granted to "recognize young talent, and to encourage innovative and daring works by presenting one of the films with a grant to aid its distribution in France" (thank you Wikipedia). The film itself is loosely based on the life and tragic death by suicide of the producer Humbert Balsan, who, in his last years, struggled with depression and the threat of bankruptcy. Hansen- Løve was given her directoral break by Balsan and possibly due to this decides to tell his story at a respectful distance: all the specific details have been changed with this account being presented as completely fictional. Yet, to anyone who knows about Humbert Balsan, many figures and events from his life have obvious analogues here.

‘The Father of My Children’ is certainly an accomplished piece of work. The performance of Louis-Do de Lencquesaing as Grégoire (the producer and titular father) is everything it must be. Afterall, it is said (more than once) within the film that his character is charming and charismatic, which he certainly manages to be. He is also warm and funny in the scenes with his children (the eldest of which is played superbly and with real intensity and intelligence by his real life daughter Alice), and this is perhaps the most crucial part of the film. But he is also equally adept at getting across the sense of depression and desperation crucial to understanding the character's eventual suicide.

However, the real stars of this film are the two actresses who play Grégoire’s two younger daughters, Alice Gautier and Manelle Driss. These girls are really natural on screen and provide some really great comic moments as well as helping to ensure the film accurately captures the atmosphere of a family at play. My favourite scene involved these two staging a play in the living room for their parents (in that way little children do) which really captures a sense of pure joy. The film gets things like this absolutely right. Another scene I loved sees the eldest daughter (Alice de Lencquesaing) ordering a coffee in a cafe, only to get embarrassed by all the choices and revert to hot chocolate. It was a wonderful moment that seemed familiar to me, and also said a lot about the character as a girl on the verge of being a gown-up with choices to make and coffee to drink.



The film also manages to tell a story that often goes untold in cinema: that of the sympathetic producer who cares deeply about cinema and wants to make films of artistic worth. Unlike many on screen money men, Grégoire is not brash or calculating and instead we are placed in the position of feeling that his directors, who fail to work to budgets and ultimately cause him to face bankruptcy, are exploitative and often unsympathetic characters.

The pivotal sequence that leads up to Grégoire’s suicide is truly inspired, with the event itself serving as the film’s most poignant image and as a memorable visual highlight, as we see him shoot himself whilst walking away from the camera. As he drops to the floor unceremoniously it is clear that there is nothing romanticised about the act, which is desperate and futile. It is also interesting as it builds to this moment at about the half-way point and then the film re-centres itself around Grégoire’s grieving loved ones. Prior to the suicide Grégoire’s wife promises not to leave him in the tough times ahead and I was choked by the realisation that he in fact leaves her. She is forced to deal with the inevitable bankruptcy he couldn’t bear to face himself as well as a future without a husband and father to her children. But although we are shown the void his death has left in their lives, we also glimpse, in another warm and funny scene of family bonding which involves a black-out, how he is really missing out on his life with them.

If I have a strong criticism of ‘The Father of My Children’ than it is directed at the films cheap sounding musical score which becomes prominent in the film’s second half and sounds like something from a terrible TV movie. The film, at almost two hours, is also a little overlong, with too many scenes involving the future of the bankrupt production company when the human drama is the real draw here. It is also true that Louis-Do de Lencquesaing is so successful at being charismatic as Grégoire that the film misses him just as much as his on-screen family do during the second half.

Overall though, the film was touching, warm and poignant with great attention to detail with regards to its portrayal of a happy family. Something which is too-often cheesy and cliché in the cinema (for some reason the opening of ‘Commando’ (five minutes in) comes to mind here). It also manages to get underneath the skin of an interesting set of characters and takes a mature and considered look at the roots of suicidal depression as well as its ultimate selfishness and futility, and without being judgemental. I recommend this film and eagerly await the next feature from Mia Hansen-Løve.

'The Father of My Children' can be seen at the Duke of York's in Brighton until Thursday and is rated '12A' by the BBFC. You can also currenly catch Jeff Bridges in 'Crazy Heart', which I intend to see tomorrow before going up to London for the premiere of 'Kick Ass'.

'Micmacs' Review: The best film I saw last year...

In the first edition of the Splendor Cinema podcast Jon and I discussed out favourite movies of 2009. Missing from my list was a film I considered one of the very best and most enjoyable of the year, but as the film in question was not then on general release in the UK, I opted to consider it a film of 2010 and exclude it from my thinking for the time being. However, as of the 26th of February, Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s ‘Micmacs’ is officially showing nationwide in UK cinemas, and the time is therefore right to post my appraisal of it here.

As previously mentioned, ‘Micmacs’ is the new film by the director of ‘Amélie’ Jean-Pierre Jeunet, and is his first film since 2004’s ‘A Very Long Engagement’. The story concerns a man named Bazil (Dany Boon) who finds himself the innocent victim of gangland violence on the streets of Paris - taking a gunshot wound to the head. Luckily Bazil survives the wound (albeit with the bullet permanently lodged in his brain) and befriends a gang of social misfits: featuring the usual array of quirky oddballs and cheerful grotesques, with parts for Jeunet regulars Dominique Pinon and Yolande Moreau. Together they conspire to bring down two international arms dealers, each guilty in their own way for crimes against both Bazil and the world in which he lives. It’s a darkly comic farce, with elements of social satire, not just of the arms trade and of corporations, but also broadly of Sarkozy-era France.

Of course the success of ‘Amélie’ can be attributed (for a large part) to the star-making central performance of Audrey Tautou in the title role, whose effervescent screen presence captivated audiences. But if Tautou was crucial to the success of that film, Dany Boon is equally crucial here. Boon (apparently already a huge comedy star in France) is quite brilliant, especially in one scene which requires him to convince an onlooker that he has entered a car – in what is surly a direct homage to a piece of Chaplin business seen in ‘City Lights’. Boon proves at moments like this that he is a naturally gifted silent comedian, and that if the sort of films made by Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd were still being made today, then Boon would be a huge international star. It also helps that matters that Boon is ably supported by a host of talented character actors who each pull off their own peculiar part with considerable skill.



Whilst I would usually try to steer clear of making simplistic “if you like ‘Three Amigos’, you’ll LOVE ‘Tropic Thunder’” type comments, I do think it’s probably quite accurate to say from the off that if you are one of those who didn’t get swept up in the whimsical charms of ‘Amélie’, then I would suggest you will not find much more to enjoy in ‘Micmacs’. If you hated that film's sensibilities (as a great many seem to do) then I don’t think this is the film for you. Conversely, I think fans of that film will find much to recommend about ‘Micmacs’, as it has the same oddball sensibility, along with many of Jeunet’s familiar visual motifs and thematic preoccupations.

Whilst I can see how the hyper-stylised world of the Jeunet film will not be to everyone’s taste, I found ‘Micmacs’ consistently entertaining. It was frequently funny, in parts touching and never less than beautiful to look at. Furthermore, it always has its heart exactly in the right place. And what more can you ask of a film than that?

'Micmacs' (rated '12A' by the BBFC) is now on general release across the UK, and is playing all week at the Duke of York's in Brighton. Also, on the subject of the long running 'Alice' boycott saga, the Odeon have relented to Disney's terms, a full look at which can be found here.

'A Prophet' and racial tensions in recent French cinema

Yesterday I listened to a radio interview featuring the French director Jacques Audiard, whose prison drama 'A Prophet' was Sight & Sound magazines film of 2009 after topping their annual poll of international cinema critics, ahead of such films as 'The White Ribbon' and 'The Hurt Locker'. What struck me about this interview was Audiard’s response to questions about the films scenes of violence, as he stated that it was not so much the violent acts themselves that had shocked viewers in his native France, but that an Arab (Malik [left] as portrayed by Tahar Rahim) was committing them. It was this statement which has caused me to wonder whether there is a movement in modern French cinema, united by its depiction of racial tension in an ethnically diverse modern France.

Indeed other recent internationally successful French films portray a similar picture of France to 'A Prophet', whether it’s within the inner-city classroom depicted in Laurent Cantet’s 'The Class', or a middle-class, white Frenchman’s journey through a seedy Muslim criminal underworld in the thriller 'Anything For Her' or in the frequent depictions of racial abuse and violence seen in last year’s 'Mesrine' films. And whilst Jean-Pierre Jeunet‘s 'Amelie' was criticised upon release for doing to Paris what 'Notting Hill' had done to London in terms of racial representations, his latest whimsical fantasy comedy, 'Micmacs', depicts France as a place where socially marginalised misfits (amongst them a black Muslim) must do battle against nefarious arms dealers, who we learn via an amusing office desk photo reveal, are chums of Nicolas Sarkozy. If these films, when viewed together, form a picture of a modern ethnically diverse France which is divided along racial lines (as well as economic ones), then perhaps they have a point. You need only look back to Jean-Marie Le Pen’s surprise rise to prominence in 2002, as his Front National party (in many ways the French equivalent of the BNP) polled second in the Presidential election, or to the huge race riots of 2005, to see some recent historical evidence to support the version of France represented in these films.

Is this view of France a hallmark of modern French cinema? I must admit I am living in a vacuum with regards to French film en masse. The French film industry is responsible for a great many films which receive little or no international distribution, the content of which I cannot assess with any authority. Perhaps the films which tend to be exhibited outside of France are the ones which seem to offer some kind of commentary on modern France for outsiders.

So what of British film? Aside from the odd film like 1999’s 'East is East' or 2007’s 'Brick Lane', British cinema seems not to share French cinemas preoccupation with issues of racial difference. Is this because Britain is more tolerant than France? Or rather, is it because we are still more focussed on social class (as in the work of Andrea Arnold, for one example)? Or is this simply because we are not engaging with the issue? I’d be extremely interested to read any views you might have.
'A Prophet' is screening every day until Thursday the 28th of January at the Duke of Yorks Picturehouse in Brighton and is rated 18 by the BBFC.