Un Poison Violent

Love like Poison is the English title for the directorial debut of Katell Quillevere, a 'natural director' to be reckoned with. Sad yet absolutely engaging and beautifully shot, the film is like a poem about the transformation from a childhood to adolescence. And yet like critic Sarah Marvel points out, the film continues a disturbing trend in French cinema in the exploitation of the young actress body.

The Artist

This is probably the best French film I have watched for a very long time: with a breath-taking performance from Jean Dujardin, the film about one of film industry's difficult periods - from silent to 'talkies', has an incredible soundtrack and never a dull moment. While it reminds me of many highlights in the silent era, it is also incredibly modern in its message and its understated way to express it: behind the romance and drama is also a film about change, the only constant, and how we humans cope with it. Hugo, another film based on the early period of the film industry, is however a mixed bag with many dramatic flaws and too philosophical junior protagonists. But I am glad I rummaged through it.

Fear and Trembling

Can we claim that we know the cultures of a country if we speak its language? This hilariously funny film poses a poignant question as we witness the Belgium girl who can speak fluent Japanese sinks to the dark pit of a Japanese company.

13 Tzameti

This is one of the most enigmatic and compelling films I have watched lately. I am not always a great fan of thriller, but I love every bit of it: its soundtrack (that piqued me instantly), its scripts, its supreme performance, and the stark black and white cinematography. An intelligent and poignant critics on the crude side of human nature, its gripping power keeps you guessing to the last minute.

Intimate Strangers

This is an extraordinary film, especially in the age of instant gratification seems to be norm, or so it seems at least on the screen. Throughout the film, we, just like the tax lawyer himself who is initially mistaken as a psychiatrist, are only allowed limited access to the two protagonists. We could only see what he sees inside his office, and the whole story is like a myth yet to be decoded with the motivation of the two protagonists never made clear to us, not even until the last moment. Although we could perhaps indeed put a label such as the attractiveness of the opposite to the story. The soundtrack is brilliant in giving the story almost a hint of thriller, like that in a Hitchcock film, in particular his Vertigo.

The girl from Monaco

This is the sort of film that doesn't tell you anything new and yet you are nevertheless gripped by the storytelling and the magnetic performance given by its stars. In this instance, it is the dilemma suffered by the ageing attorney and the performance by enigmatic Roschdy Zem and sexy Louise Bourgoin that has made the whole experience so thrilling.

I've loved you for so long

I was lucky yesterday: when searching the database, I found, to my disbelief that there was a copy on the shelf.

It is one of the best films I have watched recently: the performance, the script... all subtle and with great depth.

PS:

I had wanted to watch it for a second time, but at the meanwhile, reluctant to do so. The film is not meant to be a suspense, but in effect, it is on first viewing. This is because the 'crime' Juliet committed was not revealed to us until 1/3 into the movie, and once we learnt what kept her in prison for 15 years, we became effectively an ally of Lea's husband - worried if she would do it again and felt our hearts jump to our throat whenever she was left alone with Lea's young daughters. We also wondered if her budding relationship with the two completely different men would come to anything... and that if the unconditional trust Lea had on her rather withdrawn sister was misplaced.

But I did watch it for a second time and found that this time round, I was able to relax a bit and focus more on the sublime performance, especially on that between the sisters who did look alike in a subtle way. To play the role of Juliet the way Kristine Scott Thomas did required some great courage - to appear on the screen at one's true age with hardly any make-up or special effects to enhance their appearance. It is in a sense a gamble from both the director and the actress - to star someone who looked deprived of love and no longer cares for how they presented themselves to the world.

And in the end, one can only ask why that we are not treated to more films of such high quality.

À nous la liberté

This film by Rene Clair had got a lot of iconic and even comic moments: the prison scene where prisoners were sitting along a long table making models/toys under the suspicious eyes of the prison guards; the many grim factory sequences where workers clocked at the gate, queued up for their shifts; the interior of the factory that bored striking resemblance to that of a prison; the assembly line that kept workers working around the clock; the scene where everybody was trying to grab a big note blowing in the wind; the final shot where the two prison friends found themselves on the road again, having lost everything that belonged to them - dreams, a good life, and the prospect of a home. The film closed on an apparently a sad note, but with their love for a good tune and their appetite for a good laugh, they also seemed the happiest of all human kind.

Made in 1931 when sound was at its infantry, it was fascinating to see how directors then faced up the challenge of sound. In this case, the not so immaculate use of sound actually enhanced its rough charm. The prolong quiet moments interrupted by unexpected dialogues and music usually brought constant surprises as no clues were given as to when/whether there would be a song or a dislogue!

The real shock came when I read the plagiarism charge brought by its producer to the silent movie classic Modern Times, for it was then I realised why those iconic comic scenes seemed so vaguely familiar - although of course, this one was made a few years earlier than the Modern Times... If Charles Chaplin was indeed innocent, then it was a real wonder how close sometimes people's ideas were. Modern Times might be more funny for its gags, but I am most impressed by how fresh À nous la liberté is even today.

Jean Gabin and Pepe le Moko

I watched this Pepe le Moko by Julien last night. The film was fascinating on two accounts: firstly, the setting in the maze like seaside hilly town Casbah where first time visitors were bound to get lost in its many seemingly dead end lanes and multi-layered courtyards; secondary, the title role played by the charming Jean Gabin in his prime.

As marvelled by the police who could not figure out a way to catch Pepe the gangster as long as he stayed in Casbah, this laid back town was a culturally diverse one that looked like an miniature United Nation. Not only its residents were from different ethnic and racial groups, but the style of architecture also reflected it rich cultural heritage of its residents. Always sunny, the cinematography had taken advantage of both the natural light and its interesting architecture styles and turned it one of the most intriguing place ever caught in cinema.

As to Jean Gabin, a veteran film star in French cinema since the 1930s, he was effortlessly the epitome of charisma. I must have seen more than a dozen of films he starred in now, and I am yet to cease to be charmed by the characters he played and the ease he carried in all roles. My favourite moment of his had to be the brief scene in Jean Renoir's French Cancan where we found him sitting backstage tabbing his hands and feet in the rhythm of the music performing on stage. He knew the routine so well by then (though it was the opening performance) that he did not have to watch the stage performance to know what was exactly happening outside. He had a contented look on his face and seemed a man on his most satisfactory moment in life.

Pepe le Moko was said to be the early form of film noir, and indeed, it was, though in a much lighter way.

Tell no one

Last Saturday afternoon, I spent nearly four hours in one of the viewing rooms in Esplanade to watch two French films: 8 Femmes, and, Tell No One, both are available only for in-house restricted viewing.

It became pretty 'clear' less than half way through why 8 Femmes is on restricted viewing. The culprit is not violence or nudity, but the lack of sense of morality in all characters, and I can see the censors here finding it contradicting severely with the 'shared traditional values' purportedly upheld by the Singapore society. Honestly, it is a film I would not recommend to anyone, unless, like me, they are avid for any things from the stars.

I am never into musical, and I found it horrifying in particular when the 8 femmes, old or young, take turns to spring into a sing and dance routine whenever they delve into their inner selves. The singing episodes interrupt the overall narrative, and also crash with the overall mood of the backdrop of the film - that of the murder of the only patriach figure. Although the victim was revealed at the end as a monstor, and therefore not worthy of any sympathy, it does not 'justify' the singing and dancing acts put on by all characters.

What surprises me most is how come a film of such a bad script and bad taste could attract some of the best actresses in French cinema.

***

I have been looking for Tell No One ever since I was bewitched by a Guillanme Canet in Hunting and Gathering. It is unexplicable because his earlier Love Me if You Dare never made any impression on me. Tell No One is thrilling indeed but the show is stealt by the minor character Bruno, the gangster who rescued the hero when he was on the run from police. I still prefer Hunting and Gathering for its casual charm, and the chemistry between Audrey and Canet.

L'Atalante

L'Atalente was the name L'Atalante is the name of a barge where the story of tender love, jealousy, separation, and reunion between a newly wed young couple. I didn't realise I had watched it some three years ago until when Michel Simon welcomed the bride on board.

Though it was my second viewing, it felt as fresh and powerful as ever. I was impressed with the high calibre performance from all three main actors, in particular that from Dita Parlo whose face and body languages tell a thousand stories. The story was simple but it had a sensuousness and raw touch that never aged - that of human being, the primitive desire that words can never express, and the longing for touch, love, or simply seeing each other and being together. It was also very poetic especially the scene depicting how deeply Jean was missing his wife. Not a word from him about his wife since he abandoned her for jealousy but what a lost soul he had become: he let his beard grow, lost interest in life, and in the end, he plunged his head into a bucket of cold water, and then himself into the river. The 'miracle' - that in water one could see their lovers - was a secret between the couple and therefore his workmates thought it was simply another act of madness from their silent and moody captain. These sequences of Jean's misery, regret and loneliness was almost like a silent movie: the characters of central concern remain quiet silent throughout and all we heard was but occasional expressions of concern from his mates which work more like captions. Yet the power of the image was such that the sentiments of both characters were convened strong and live.

Probably because of its age (made in 1934), the picture looked rather raw but so was its power in reaching the audience. It might be a simple or even a cliche story but the story telling was just magical.

Jean Renoir

I watched two films by Jean Renoir last week: Toni (1934) and The Rules of the Game (1939). The latter, a flop at its first release, is considered to be the 'best' in cinema history, but to me while it is technically superior to his earlier works, I enjoyed Toni a lot better.

Made in 1934 on shoestring budget, Toni is a rough gem: rough both on the quality of images and the use of largely non-professional actors from the local areas; gem for it is a most delightful works with wonderful sense of rhythm, insightful depiction of human nature, and a great structure that signifies life has a pattern like season and nature. It is 'realistic' both for its use of the natural landscape resulted from location shooting, and for the rich texture of characters brought by the use of non-professional actors. And like some of his other great works of the same period, the characters are never black and white but feel as real as everyday life.

Toni, for its gritty realistic value and sense of poetry reminds me of his other two films that I love: A Day in the Country and The Grand Illusion. Both simple in structure but with great eyes on human nature, they are some of the cinematic greats. The performance in A Day in the Country by Sylvia Bataille is supremely subtle and unforgettable, with a soundtrack working like a brush in creating the mood of the film.

On a different note, Toni reminds me of the early works by a young Chinese director Jia Zhangke who, at the forefront of making gritty realistic films, was actually adopting many methods 'pioneered' by Renoir in his early career, such as working with friends and non-professional actors with strong local accents unintelligible to many, working on un-finished scripts and heavy reliance on improvisation, and location shooting. Different from Renoir though, Jia's insistence on portraying the lower class Chinese living in rural China comes both from his rebelion against the mainstream Chinese cinema and his own experience of growing up in one of the poorest regions in Western China, while Renoir's might have more to do with his artistic and intellectual interests and preference. Jia's early works (Xiao Wu, Platform, Unknown Pleasures) is in a sense a remake of Toni in Chinese contemporary rural context. He is yet to come up with anything as beautiful (and inspirational) as A Day in the Country, or as engaging as The Grand Illusion.

Cleo from 5 to 7

This is an amazing film. At the beginning, it is bland and even tideous as Cleo the singer seems like a spoilt and capricious child in a woman's body. Despite her fame (her songs are on radio), she was listless, and when her composer learns that she is ill, he remarks that she just wants some attention, which seems to be the case.

Then at the middle of rehearsing, she throws temper at the composer and lyricist, gets changed, and goes out on her own to in the late afternoon street.

The mood of the film changes subtly once she leave her companions in the confined and familiar space of her doll like home. Though she has now put on a black dress, she looks more lively, real and human without her elaborate wig. As she is on her own in the Paris street, we are kept in the dark as to what exactly is going on except that from her face, she continues to be self-absorbed and unhappy. There is still a lack of plot here but a caption in the silent movie she is shown later on hinted what the film is about, and indeed, what the heroine is overwhelmed with: the dread of cancer and its impact on her future of the past two days.

The DVD at this point was damaged and by the time it plays properly again, she is dropping off her model friend, directing the taxi driver to drive through a park, then she rambles in a peaceful park, where a stranger comes to her by a mini waterfall. And my, from this moment on, Cleo the doll/dull woman begins to reveal herself gradually as an attractive young lady who is capable of genuine human interactions. Typical of the French new wave cinema of the late 50s and early 60s, the plot is still rather loose, which in itself draws our attention entirely to the dialogues or half of the time, the lack of it between the two of them as they sit on a bench by the water, catch a bus to the hospital, then sit on a bench in a beautiful park of the hospital. The acting is natural but the chemistry between the two is well captured on the black and white film. Antoine Bourseiller the soldier looks like an average young man when he is 'half in uniform', but soon he puts on his jacket and hat, and his irresistable natural charm transforms the last 15 to 20 minutes of the film: - what happens then between the protagonists as they wonder about his familiar quarter of Paris is one of the most romantic and captivating scenes in cinema, which lifts the film from an average new wave work into a memorable experience.

I checked my bible afterwards and the auther did not think much of the film or all of those except Vagaband by the Agnes Varda. But to me, although I accept the point that it is not about 'real life', it however makes a lot more sense than some of the films raved about by the author, say, Paris Belongs to Us by Jacque Riverret of the same period.

And I guess much of the credit should go to Antoine Bourseiller, who could express desire and emotions through just his eyes.

Le Samourai

Ever since becoming a freemale, I have been watching films nearly every night. There are many good ones, the trouble is, my memory is failing me faster than I dare to admit, and there are many a time, especially when the titles are not in English, the DVD on the player is something I have watched not too long ago.

After watching Second Breath by Jean-Pierre Melville, I checked my 'bible' (getting old quickly)' and learnt that the best one from the director was one in his last period with Alain Denon. Since I had no recollection of any of them, I picked up the film from the library and played it last night.

The credit sequence reminded me some of the earlier films by Wong Kai, especially The Days of Being Wild: in a dim room, nothing seems to be happening, except a ray of smoke rising from, a bed, in the centre of a room, on which there seems to be lying a body. The camera reminds static during the whole sequence, and the decor of the room becomes increasingly, as significant as the smoke: though its walls is green, it is not a colour that symbolises life and energy, but more that of decadence and resignation, as if the life of it has been sucked away by time, nature's and paper.

I started to wonder if I might have watched it when I heard the bird chirping, and indeed, once the credit sequence was over and a face was shown, my memory returned.

Like those early films by Sergio Leone that feature a young Clint Eastwood, or Hombre, featuring Paul Newman playing a white man raised by Indians, the film is scarce in dialogues (except when the police chief is on), and the settings, except that in the night club rather rustic, realistic and gritty. It is a film that has its heart set in its character and with a strong sense of style. Or shall we say, a man's film?

Interestingly, the colour of the wall in the opening sequence appears to change its tone with the change of light: for when the curtain is drawn, or the lights are switched on, the greenish wall turns grey, which makes the spartan apartment look even more bare and haunted. And in such a setting, the bird in the cage looks like an illicit orphan deserted by a well-off family. But of course, by the way it is being cared for, it is hinted early on that it is not there just for companionship. It is a security device for its owner.

I cannot place where I saw the actor who plays the policy chief, he is, like those typical French actors, handsome and eloquent. His endless talks and the elaborate manipulation to tail the protagonist though serves only to highlight the contrast between them: a policeman with a 'safe' job who can tred on the line of legal and illegal, and a 'lone wolf' who is on the wrong side of the law. The protagonist who barely speaks, act professionally, guided apparently by instinct. The night club pianist player is also impressive, she looks cool and has an unforgettable face.

But the cream of it all, regardless of his disclosed status of being thief and later, a cold blooded professional killer, is Alain Denon. I have seen him in L'eclisse with Monica Vitte, he is competent there, but it is in this film he looks in his element: a cool handsome face that you just want to put in your own hands, and wouldn't mind risking your life for the sake of its owner. When we saw him at the opening sequence leaving his unglamorous place, he did little with his body, but his eyes say all: the consciousness of being constantly in danger and under surveillance (it turns out both by police and his employers), his calculation whether it is a good time to strike (to steal a car parking by the road) are all written in that turn of his eyes without moving his head. And besides, the trench coat looks great on him!

I have found another title by the same director which also features Alain Denon. I am looking forward to it.

P.S.
Watched 'A cop' last night, an anti-climax to Le Samourai. Yes, Alain Denon played the title role, but the film's focus, as in Second Breath and Le Samourai from the same director, is actually the gangster, the cop's friend Simon with whom they are also rivals in love. The film starts with a seaside town bank robbery, and in the middle of it, a train robbery with detailed portraits of how meticulous and daring the gangster is, who also happens to be knowledgable, decisive and glamourous, while the cop in comparison looks sheer bored, and shallow.

A commentator remarks that the young Alain Denon has a rare and contradictory combination of 'saintly grace' and 'the elegance of a modern young man', but added that 'by 40', his look begins to blur. Le Samourai was made in his mid-30s, and his looks fit that description perfectly. But 'A cop' was made before he turned 40, and his look has already 'blurred'. I wonder why? Is it because he is more suitable for playing characters from the underworld than that represents the law? Or is it more to do with Jean-Pierre Melville? I cannot recall if I have watched his other works, but the three I have are all gangster ones and that the underworld usually features more heavily and in a sense 'positively' by either being loyal to their pals or unusually 'heroic' in their acts. Indeed, not only they have admirers in attractive young ladies, but also in the police chief/superintendant who want to get on top of their criminal acts.