Review of 2019: Cinema - 12 Favourite Films

Atlantics (dir. Mati Diop)

Several acclaimed 2019 films indulged in simple revenge fantasies (Rose Plays Julie, The Other Lamb, Bacurau) or got praised just for taking fashionable political positions. Mati Diop's Atlantics flirts with those tendencies but does so with so much vision and idiosyncrasy that it touches the sublime. With the exception of Jonas Carpignano's great Mediterranea, recent films on the topic of African migration experience (such as Phillippe Faucon's Amin or Mahamat Saleh Haroun's A Season in France) have tended to be low-key, slightly underwhelming affairs that have turned out more worthy than insightful. Diop's innovation in Atlantics lies in twisting social realism into the realm of the supernatural, mobilising elements of folktale, fable, Ghost-ly romance and horror to create a poetic, intoxicating work that gets under the skin.

Synonyms (dir. Nadav Lapid)

An Israeli's attempt at integration in the City of Light is the subject of Nadav Lapid's Berlinale-awarded latest, a by turns cerebral, sexy, unsettling and ludic take on immigrant experience that has something of the philosophical smarts and energy of Christophe Honoré at his most exhilaratingly freewheeling; you never know where this journey's going to go. Holding the strands together is a fiercely charismatic, star-making performance from Tom Mercier, as captivating in his covetable mustard coloured coat as he is out of it. Pump up the Jam!

The Kindergarten Teacher (dir. Sara Colangelo)

God of the Piano (dir. Itay Tal)

Two exceptional films about female characters reckoning with the talents of children. Itay Tal's drama focuses on a mother (excellent Naama Preis) and the boy she wants to follow in the family footsteps as a piano prodigy; this brisk and gripping film is another standout in the vibrant new Israeli cinema. Sara Colangelo's remake of  Nadav (him again!) Lapid's 2014 work The Kindergarten Teacher is strictly speaking a 2018 release, but I can't let the year pass without highlighting the brilliance of the central performance here, one that proved conclusively that there are few better reasons to persist with American cinema than the opportunity to see Maggie Gyllenhaal acting. As Lisa, the aspiring writer and dedicated teacher who identifies a young boy in her class as a budding poetry genius, Gyllenhaal pulls us deeply into the obsessiveness of a likeable, intelligent woman in a haunting, empathetic performance. Gyllenhaal describes the film as being about "the consequences of starving a vibrant woman's mind" and part of what's great about this deceptively modest movie is the clear-eyed attention it pays to the ways that contemporary culture can disillusion and disable. 

Wild Rose (dir. Tom Harper)

"There's nothin' that a little time and Patsy Cline couldn't fix..." So it proves in Tom Harper's drama about a ne'er-do-well Glasgow girl trying to realise her abiding dream to become a country music star. Wild Rose is insightful, huge-hearted, crowd-pleasing but mature in its perspective, with Jessie Buckley's dynamic performance connecting the Brit grit of a Margi Clarke with the real-life US country heroines that Jessica Lange and Sissy Spacek played so memorably in Sweet Dreams and Coal Miner's Daughter. Lovely entertainment. 

By the Grace of God (dir. François Ozon)

As sober and soulful as his previous film - the bad-fun Joyce Carol Oates adaptation Double Lover - was perverse and hilarious, Ozon's dramatisation of the Preynat case eschewed shouty Spotlight-isms for a more nuanced, character-rich look at the effects of the abuses covered up the Catholic Church. By the Grace of God attends to each protagonists' personality with scrupulous sensitivity, aided by beautiful performances from Melvil Poupaud, Denis Menochet and Swann Arlaud as the central trio. Interview with Ozon here. 

Pain and Glory (dir. Pedro Almodóvar)

 The Souvenir (dir. Joanna Hogg) 

Almodóvar and Hogg's exceptionally sensitive, complementary self-portraits of directors - one male, established and jaded, one female, tentative and starting out - proved that films about filmmakers needn't be exercises in solipsism or tiresome meta game-playing but can instead forge a hotline to the heart of the viewer. 

An Officer and a Spy (dir. Roman Polański) 

Adapting Robert Harris's novel about the Dreyfus affair, Roman Polański managed to deliver one of his finest recent films (by far), an intelligent, handsome historical drama with a thriller's grip, as fine-tuned and compelling as Jean Dujardin's immaculate lead performance. 

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (dir. Celine Sciamma)

At times suggesting a lost Henry James story adapted by Jacques Rivette, Sciamma's film is a love story at once austere and rapturous: cinematic écriture féminine.

Diagnosis (dir. Ewa Podgórska)

I Was Here (dir. Nathalie Biancheri 
and Ola Jankowska)

Anne Tyler once wrote "that there is no ordinary person, anywhere." If further proof of that were needed, these two superb documentaries offer it, as they unfold stories of violence, caring, compromise and resilience in the experiences related by their uncelebrated protagonists. Both experimental in their own particular ways, the films are linked by their confessional form and their very moving revelations of the durability of childhood wounds. More meta, Biancheri and Jankowska's I Was Here presents its British protagonists with the question of why they would make a good documentary subject. More mobile (indeed, the film's attention to how a city moves is peerless), Diagnosis draws on urban psychoanalysis theory, as it presents a range of questions to its Łódź-born participants. Podgórska captures the city's singular strangeness through a visionary stylistic approach that incorporates slow zooms, a haunting sound design, associative editing, and some stunning overhead shots - of the human face and the cityscape. Interview with Podgórska here. 

Bonus: Chambre 212 (dir. Honoré), Where'd You Go, Bernadette?(dir. Linklater), Ja Teraz Kłamię (dir. Borowski), Boże Ciało (dir. Komasa), Mr. Jones (dir. Holland), Young Ahmed (dir. Dardennes), Moments (dir. Beata Parkanova), In Fabric (dir. Strickland), Ibiza: The Silent Movie (dir. Temple), Us (dir. Peele), Us Among the Stones (dir. Hood), Cat in the Wall (dir. Mileva and Kazakova),  The Guest (dir. Chiarini), The Irishman (dir. Scorsese), Nic Nie Ginie (dir. Alabrudzinska), The Peanut Butter Falcon (dir. Nilson and Schwartz), Ordinary Love (dir. Barros D'Sa and Leyburn), System Crasher (dir. Fingscheidt), At Eternity's Gate (dir. Schnabel), Little Monsters (dir. Forsythe)

Worst:  Liberté (dir. Serra), The Laundromat (dir. Soderbergh), The King  (dir. Michôd), A Rainy Day in New York (dir. Allen), Red Joan (dir. Nunn)

Interview with François Ozon

My interview with François Ozon about By the Grace of God is up at Film International. You can read it here.

The Story Comes First: An Interview with François Ozon

My interview with François Ozon is up at Film International. You can read it here. 

Film Review: The New Girlfriend (dir. Ozon, 2014)

François Ozon's The New Girlfriend is out in the UK today. You can read my review from last year's London Film Festival here. 

Film Review: Jeune et Jolie (dir. Ozon, 2013)

 

François Ozon's Jeune et Jolie (Young and Beautiful) is just out in the UK. I reviewed it at TIFF and you can find the piece here, under the rave for Gerontophilia.

TIFF 2013 Coverage: My Toronto International Film Festival Reviews

 

I was fortunate enough to be able to attend the Toronto International Film Festival for the first time earlier this month, to provide festival coverage for PopMatters. Below are links to my reviews of the films that I saw at the festival:

 

Gerontophilia (dir. Bruce LaBruce) and Young & Beautiful (dir. Francois Ozon)

Gravity (dir. Alfonso Cuaron) and Le Week-End (dir. Roger Michell)

Wałęsa. Man of Hope (dir. Andrzej Wajda)

Bastards (dir. Claire Denis)

Stranger By The Lake (dir. Alain Guiraudie)

August: Osage County (dir. John Wells)

A Story of Children and Film (dir. Mark Cousins) and InRealLife (dir. Beeban Kidron)

Can A Song Save Your Life? (dir. John Carney)

 

 

Film Review: Potiche (Ozon, 2010)

God bless François Ozon, surely the most confounding, as well as the most prolific, of contemporary film-makers. The director’s latest work, Potiche, apparently began life when Ozon was asked to make a film about Nicolas Sarkozy, a docudrama in the Peter Morgan “mould.” (Both senses of that word seem apt here.) Somewhere along the way, however, Ozon got side-tracked, and turned his attention instead to a 1970s boulevard comedy by Pierre Barillet and Jean Pierre-Grody that explored women in the workplace. That text, filtered through Ozon’s observations of the misogynistic media discourse surrounding Ségoléne Royal’s unsuccessful 2007 presidential campaign, has inspired Potiche - not the piece of bogus impersonation that a film on Sarko might have been but rather a bright, high-camp foray into gender politics and 70s kitsch that takes its place alongside Ozon’s earlier subversive comedies, Sitcom (1998) and 8 Women (2000).

As successful as most of his dramatic forays have been (and his last one, Le Refuge, was my favourite film of last year) it’s nice to find Ozon letting his hair down with this confection. And one of the central pleasures of Potiche is that it reunites the director with one of his 8 Women, Catherine Deneuve. Here she’s Suzanne: wife of a wealthy industrialist, Robert Pujol (Fabrice Luchini), and mother to two 20-something children, daddy’s girl Joëlle (Judith Godréche) and mummy’s boy Paul (Jeremie Reiner). Suzanne is presented, initially, as a slightly daffy woman who’s content with her lot, whether she’s composing doggerel on country walks, or (in the movie’s most charming scene) singing and dancing along to pop ditties as she does the housework. But when Robert is held captive by a bunch of striking employees, and has a heart attack, Suzanne is left to take over running the factory, a role in which she proves thoroughly adept. Her new post brings her into contact with the Communist mayor, Babin (Gerard Depardieu), with whom she has a romantic history, and of course into conflict with Robert who, once recovered, reacts rather badly to the turning of the tables.

Art-directed, designed, costumed and choreographed to within an inch of its life, Potiche (the title means "Trophy Wife") looks a treat. Filtered, Ozon has claimed, through his own childhood memories of the 70s, the movie is at once deeply textured and cartoonish; the images have a gorgeous pop lusciousness that, coupled with Ozon’s brisk story-telling skills, brings a heart-lifting charm to the opening sequences of the movie in which Suzanne is introduced. As with much of the director’s output, the film runs the risk of being labelled a mere style-exercise, but its visual flair is combined with some good points on gender politics too. The feminism here may be fairly rudimentary, but it’s fully appreciated nonetheless, taking Potiche, at its best, into the realm of early Almodovar-esque “kitsch-and-think” comedy.

As usual, Ozon elicits highly enjoyable performances from his actors. Deneuve, an underrated comedienne, is wonderful, though a case could be made that Suzanne, like Born Yesterday's Billie Dawn before her, is much more fun before her awakening: the movie’s greatest flaw, I’d argue, is that it doesn’t quite succeed in making her empowerment as exciting as it should be. The hyper Luchini is good value as always, although some of his scenes seem to lack punch-lines. Judith Godréche does well in an unsympathetic role, and it’s delightful to see Jeremie Renier (reuniting with Ozon for the first time since the devilish Criminal Lovers [1999]) liberated from Dardenne-angst and delivering a very funny and appealing performance - he’s also the protagonist of the movie’s cheekiest twist. Karin Viard is great as the secretary who’s sparked into rebellion by Suzanne’s example. And Depardieu is, well, Depardieu: lumbering, awkward, endearing. The role doesn’t allow him the room for manoeuvre that his great role in The Singer (2006) did, but he delivers a game performance nonetheless. Ever the cinephile, Ozon riffs on the actor’s screen history with Deneuve in amusing ways, even if his attempt to inject their characters’ back-story with “real” emotion (via weak melodramatic flashbacks) falls sadly flat.

Potiche is always on the verge of becoming wilder and crazier and funnier than it ever actually does. For the most part, that verge isn’t a bad place to be, but it does mean that some scenes are let-downs: in particular the sequence that should be the great highlight - Deneuve and Depardieu hitting the dance floor - is a damp squib. (Apparently, Depardieu couldn't master the moves!) It doesn’t help, in addition, that the trailer for the movie reveals all the major plot points and most of the best bits. And towards the end, when the film should be gaining momentum, it becomes oddly tiresome, degenerating into a series of dressing-up-Deneuve montages as Suzanne extends her ambitions to a political career and goes on the campaign trail. Happily, a brazenly ridiculous musical flourish redeems the film’s final moments. And if, ultimately, Potiche can’t quite match either Sitcom or 8 Women for big laughs or subversive surprises, it remains a great deal of fun nonetheless.

Potiche is released in UK cinemas on 17th June.

Review of 2010: Cinema - 10 Favourite Films

Cinema memories, 2010.

A Taliban on the run. A pregnant woman dancing in a nightclub, accompanied then alone. Child soldiers sleep, clutching soft toys. An American flag is raised in the Philippines. Pioneers let an Indian lead them. Dirty Dancing gets re-created. A dentist slumbers in her Spitfire. Two strangers play at being lovers (or the other way around). A gangster and his girl sway to Doris Day. A father watches his daughter ice-skate. A last supper is scored to Swan Lake. Juliette Binoche’s red lipstick. Romain Duris’s amazing hair. In Sanremo, a Russian woman pursues her son’s friend – soon to be her lover - through the city streets. In California, an Englishman receives a phone-call. A French child tells his mother a story, and becomes part of it.

Great year to be a movie-goer. And impossible to restrict this list to just 10 films...

1. Le Refuge (dir. François Ozon)

Le cinéma comme refuge. Too slight for some, Ozon’s intimate drama about a pregnant junkie connecting with her dead lover’s brother during one summer felt incredibly personal and resonant to me. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a perfectly wrought short story, and a film that gains from being placed in the wider context of the director’s body of work. Excellent performances from Isabelle Carré and Louis Ronan-Choisy as the odd couple working out their futures after loss (they’re both superb subjects for Ozon’s caressing camera), but what counts the most in Le Refuge is the attention to atmosphere, the focus on gazes and touches, and, especially, the director’s genius for capturing his characters in solitary, private moments. A beauty.

2. Meek’s Cutoff (dir. Kelly Reichardt)

O pioneers! The big surprise of this year’s London Film Festival, Kelly Reichardt’s awesome film, set in 1845, focuses on three families being led by an unreliable guide off of the Oregon Trail. Reichardt brings to this historical drama the same considered, slow-burn approach that distinguished her contemporary-set films; she brings a healthy reappraisal of gender and racial politics too. With its brilliant, spare script, stunning cinematography and perfectly-pitched performances from Michelle Williams, Bruce Greenwood, Paul Dano and Shirley Henderson, the visionary Meek deserves major attention on its theatrical release next year.

3. White Material (dir. Claire Denis)

One of Claire Denis’s most sustained and affecting films, with a brilliant performance from Isabelle Huppert as the coffee plantation owner refusing to leave her African estate as civil war breaks out around her. Seductive and disturbing, direct and elliptical, you don’t shake White Material off easily. And to quote Blondie: “My dream is on the screen.”

4. Of Gods And Men (dir. Xavier Beauvois)

An interesting companion piece to White Material in many ways, Xavier Beauvois’s drama about a group of Cistercian monks debating whether to leave their North African monastery in the wake of Islamic fundamentalist attacks is a masterful piece of work. And in the late sequence set to Swan Lake Beauvois provides one of the most emotionally overwhelming pieces of cinema that I’ve seen this year.

5. Wild Grass (dir. Alain Resnais)

There didn’t seem to be a lot of sustained joy and happiness radiating from the films released this year, or at least not the ones that meant the most to me. But I recall smiling pretty much all the way through Alain Resnais’s brazenly barmy Wild Grass, a great comedy about, ahem, loneliness, fantasy, ageing and obsession. Aged 88, the director demonstrates more movie-struck glee here than most filmmakers half his age. The viewer shares the delight. (Year's best poster, too.)

6. Essential Killing (dir. Jerzy Skolimowski)

The Fugitive for existentialists. Plopping his Taliban hero down in a snowy, rural Poland, where he’s hunted by both human and canine pursuers, Jerzy Skolimowski presents a marvellously idiosyncratic spin on the man-on-the-run movie here, distinguished by superb cinematography and a truly brilliant (wordless) performance from the great Vincent Gallo. The political dimensions of the story, though unavoidable, are ultimately downplayed; instead, Essential Killing takes on the primal intensity, clarity and mystery of an ancient folk ballad.

7. Making Plans For Léna (dir. Christophe Honoré)

I love the ability that certain French filmmakers have to present family dramas on a scale that’s at once intimate and epic. Honoré’s latest achieves just that. And Léna's confounding protagonists were my favourite movie characters of the year. If you’re listening Artificial Eye, please give this one a proper UK release.

8. Amigo (dir. John Sayles)

All the Sayles virtues - intelligence, perspective, humanity, insight, wit - are on display in the director’s compelling drama about the Philippines-American War. Again, if you're listening Artificial Eye...

9. London River (dir. Rachid Bouchareb)

The antidote to Four Lions. I wasn’t at all  prepared for the intense emotional impact of London River, Bouchareb’s film about two characters searching for their missing children in the wake of the 7/7 bombings, and its effect was no doubt accentuated by walking out of the cinema straight onto the London streets. Remarkable performances, and I admire the way that the film’s final moments complicate the healing and catharsis that’s achieved in the central relationship.

10. I Am Love (dir. Luca Guadagnino)

Before its unfortunate third-act stumble into hysteria, Guadagnino’s sumptuous melodrama - "Visconti on acid," in the words of its star - was a thing of absolute beauty, featuring a(nother) knock-out performance from Tilda Swinton as the adulterous matriarch. See it, and swoon.

In addition:

Heartbreaker (dir. Pascal Chaumeil)

Heartbreaker was quite delightful, a lively romantic comedy with edge. But a case could be made that the movie’s real subject is Romain Duris’s incredible (and envy-inducing) hair.

A Single Man (dir. Tom Ford)

You can quibble with the rather cosy, life-affirming message that Tom Ford’s adaptation imposes on Isherwood’s much more tart and cynical novella. But, despite awkward and unconvincing moments, overall A Single Man worked for me. Debate continues to rage about whether the movie’s sheer unabashed stylised gorgeousness is more suited to a commercial than a narrative film but I’d argue that Ford’s arsenal of stylistic tricks work effectively to convey the protagonist’s consciousness. Not so much style over substance, then, as style as substance. And even those unmoved by the visuals couldn’t deny the power of Colin Firth’s great performance.

Certified Copy (dir. Abbas Kiarostami)

A hymn to love or a hymn to Juliette Binoche? Well, both, perhaps. Less will-they-or-won’t-they? than are-they-or-aren’t-they?, Kiarostami’s memorable deconstruction of “the couple” is enigmatic and obvious, exasperating and beguiling, heavy-handed and understated, witty and poignant, all at once.

Lourdes (dir. Jessica Hausner)

Despite the fact that it’s one of the films that stayed with me the most throughout the year, somehow I never got around to writing about Lourdes, Hausner’s rich, wry film about a multiple sclerosis sufferer (Sylvie Testud) on a pilgrimage who experiences what may or may not be a miracle. The marvellous Michał Oleszczyk at Last Seat on the Right gives the best account of this film that I’ve read.

Father of my Children (dir. Mia Hansen-Løve)
"The beauty and cruelty of life," conveyed with equal perspicacity in Hansen-Løve's profoundly affecting film.

Somewhere (dir. Sofia Coppola)
Confirming Coppola as one of our foremost cinematic poets on the seductions - and the limitations - of ennui.

The Illusionist (dir. Sylvain Chomet)
Chomet’s delightful follow-up to the great Belleville Rendezvous: quieter, sadder, wiser.

The Limits of Control (dir. Jim Jarmusch)
Forget The American.


Two disappointments: Another Year and Happy Few.

Not seen and need to be seen: Black Swan, Dogtooth, Rabbit Hole, Carlos, The Kids Are All Right, and Enter The Void.


Agree? Disagree? Well, lemme know.