Loose and impressionistic, this beautifully shot film traces the career of a DJ who pioneered garage music in France. It's not an easy film to engage with, since the characters and situations remain stubbornly undefined by the atmospheric filmmaking. But fans of the music will find the movie mesmerising as director Mia Hansen-Love cleverly recreates the clubbing culture.
The central figure is Paul Vallee (Felix de Givry), who with his buddy Stan (Hugo Conzelmann) forms a DJ duo called Cheers in the early 1990s, adding a "French touch" to the garage sound and developing a friendly rivalry with their pals Thomas and Guy-Man (Vincent Lacoste and Arnaud Azoulay), better known as Daft Punk. Despite gaining success in France, around Europe and even in America, Paul struggles to make a decent living, mainly because all of his money disappears into his drug habit. So he constantly turns to his mother (Arsinee Khanjian) for help. But the real problem for him is loneliness, as his relationships with a series of girlfriends (including Greta Gerwig and Pauline Etienne) fade away. And nearly 20 years years later, he still feels like he hasn't grown up.
The film is assembled with artistry, capturing the period and settings with an earthy realism while the musical beats churn through every scene. And the actors deliver naturalistic performances that draw out a variety of intriguing themes. So it's deeply frustrating that the film's uneven structure develops so little momentum. De Givry is superb as Paul, but there's nothing about him that becomes terribly interesting apart from his musical innovations. He seems to just drift along, never steering his life in any particular direction, neglecting his relationships to concentrate on the music. Oddly, even his cocaine habit seems to barely impact him, apart from the realisation much later on that the world has moved on without him.
Continue reading: Eden Review
Arsinee Khanjian, Karim Ainouz and Cannes Film Festival - Yu Lik-Wai, Jean Pierre Dardenne, Arsinee Khanjian, Karim Ainouz and Emmanuel Carrere Wednesday 23rd May 2012 Jurors of the Palme d'Or award are presented to the media during the 65th annual Cannes Film Festival
Simon (Bostick) is an orphan teen raised by his slacker uncle Tom (Speedman).
When a teacher (Khanjian) assigns an exercise based on a news story, Simon's piece recounts how his Palestinian father (Jenkins in flashbacks) talked his pregnant violinist mother (Blanchard) into carrying a bomb onto an airliner.
Continue reading: Adoration Review
How we perceive reality, whether in art, history, or technology, has been the monkey on the back of several directors, but none have seemed as seduced by the conundrum as Mr. Egoyan has been for the last two decades. The woman with the mask is Sabine (Arsinée Khanjian), a teacher who we meet early in the film and who has become entangled in quite the imbroglio with her student Simon (Devon Bostick). Together, Simon and Sabine have engineered a false identity for Simon, casting him as the son of a terrorist who attempted to blow up a plane heading to Israel by hiding a bomb in his wife's luggage. Simon uses the identity in a presentation to his classmates, who take it as gospel, and soon enough, he is the focus of international news. But, in reality, Simon's parents died in a car accident, leaving Uncle Tom (a very good Scott Speedman) as the young man's sole guardian.
Continue reading: Adoration Review
Atom Egoyan, the avant-garde Canadian filmmaker born in Egypt to Armenian parents, has a chip on his shoulder the size of the Great White North. And that chip is Armenia. Obviously harboring a deep guilt for his living high on the hog in the West while his ancestors were massacred in the motherland, Egoyan never misses a chance to revisit Armenia as a theme in his films -- even if, say, it's a movie about a strip club and a dead girl (Exotica). And invariably Egoyan casts his wife Khanjian as an Armenian of some sort, always taking the time to let us know she's Armenian with the subtext that she should be pitied.
Continue reading: Ararat Review
Maybe I over-hyped it in my mind, becoming too hopeful in the face of overwhelming praise for the film. Or maybe I know Egoyan's tricks too well by now. Either way, I left the film extremely pleased but depressed: partly because the movie is such a downer, and partly because I know Egoyan can do even better.
Continue reading: The Sweet Hereafter Review
She's an adult movie censor that surreptitiously videotapes the screenings so she can get off to them after hours.
Continue reading: The Adjuster Review
Rather than show an even-handed evaluation of the rigors of hormonal change, Breillat (previously responsible for the unwatchable Romance) wants to indulge in her hour of hate. Life is pain, highness. Get used to it. She'd find keen bedfellows in Neil LaBute and Todd Solondz, other sultans of misanthropy who lack the balls to be earnest or honest. For children, dealing with trauma and pain is complicated. To bury that in sarcasm and academic theory feels cheap. These would-be auteurs (more like hauteurs) haven't earned the right to display suffering because they don't layer it in emotional truth (as Mike Leigh does throughout Naked and David Lynch in several key scenes of Blue Velvet). Of course, there I go again comparing her to all these (better) male directors. I don't care. Gender be damned, she's borderline inept.
Continue reading: Fat Girl Review
The action in Exotica jumps from one character to another, from location to location, and back into Brown's past occasionally, teasing the viewer with bits of information about how these people's lives are eventually going to gel into a cohesive story. As the story progresses, there are plenty of blanks left for the viewer to fill in as the action springs around. The seamless editing makes this seem natural, albeit a bit overdone at times, but eventually it all comes together to make perfect sense in the end.
Continue reading: Exotica Review
It's time for tormented French writer-director Catherine Breillat to spring for a therapist and stop inflicting her rape fantasies and sexual self-esteem issues on the movie-going public.
Two years ago she directed "Romance," a pretentious art-porn flick about the debasing downward spiral of a woman so neglected by her boyfriend that she tries to distance intercourse from emotion in a vulgar string of carnal liaisons. Conceptually fascinating, the film was effectively pointless because the main character has no journey -- she's just as screwed up at the end of the picture as she was at the beginning.
In her new film "Fat Girl (Á ma soeur!)," Breillat applies the same raw, dark, psychosexual themes to adolescent yearnings, exploring the psyches and bodies of two teenage sisters -- one gorgeous and sensual, the other overweight and introverted.
Continue reading: Fat Girl (Á Ma Soeur!) Review
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