Intermediate Conversional French II
50.212. 201 - Winter Intersession & Spring 2003
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1. Ponette (1996) Jacques Doillon  (97 mins.)

                  The story of Ponette could be called
          high-concept, summarized in a single sentence. "Four
          year-old Ponette loses her mother in a car accident,
          cannot accept her absence, waits for her to come back
          from the dead." But this is not a simple concept like
          "U.S.  boxer Stallone beats the Russian champion."
          Ponette's grief and her hopes for Maman's return do not
          abate.  It is understandable in a girl who thinks of her
          beloved rag doll as a living creature.  When the child's
          loving father must go to Lyon on business, he leaves her
          for some time with his sister-in-law and her two kids.
          The little cousins, with alternating seriousness,
          playfulness and teasing, tell her that dead is
          dead:"Papi did not come backfrom the dead." Ponette's
          wonderful, poetic reply :"It's because no one waited for
          him." The solidly Catholic aunt has her own ideas about
          Resurrection ("like Jesus") or the power of God.Symbolic
          or contradictory abstractions confuse Ponette who firmly
          believes that Maman will materialize.  When Ponette's
          father, an agnostic, returns, he is irritated at
          Auntie's approach. "Dieu est pour les morts. Laisse-le
          tranquille." ("God is for the dead. Leave Him alone.")

                  Cut to a summertime boarding school in which
          mostly children somewhat older than Ponette --all
          extremely well observed and well played -- contribute
          their own theories or advice. There is as well much
          hilarious talk on subjects ranging from suppositories,
          to what "single people" means and who/what are the Jews.
          On all matters Ponette is referred to supervisor
          Aur*lie, and to Jewish schoolmate Ada "who knows
          everything." "How is it that Ada knows all about Jews?"
          Answer: "Because Jesus was a Jew." Then comes an amusing
          discussion which confuses Catholic, Arabs and Jews in
          fanciful ways.

                  The dialogue, naive, fresh, imaginative, is not
          fabricated comic relief but typical of genuine talk of
          French children who, like so many in France, possess an
          astoundingly rich and grammatical vocabulary. The single
          error here is when Ponette says "J'ai mal ˆ ma t*te"
          instead of "J'ai mal ˆ la t*te."

                  Aur*lie tries to help Ponette by introducing her
          to prayer. Ada -- who says she is a Child of God -- and
          pal Mathieu, want Ponette to become one. This entails
          passing a number of physical tests. e.g. a five-minute
          stay in a dumpster.  With elegant kindness Ada times
          this out after one minute.  When Ponette sleeps, she
          speaks to Maman who even visits her once. "She smelled
          good." But as she is reaching utter despair, something
          good and magical happens.  I can only disclose that the
          girl is "cured," accepts death's finality and starts out
          on the road to anormal life. After a single viewing I am
          still undecided: Is the ending hokey or is it a
          convincing culmination of a child's imagination

                  Since 1972 writer-director Jacques Doillon has
          made some 20 features, plus shorts and movies for
          television. Though unknown in the U.S., he is  much
          admired in France for his original, intimate subjects
          (many of them about young people),  his skills with
          actors, his ear and eye for real life, his sympathetic
          and empathetic analyses and techniques. For example,
          here the camera stay almost always on the girl, with
          many closeups, yet smooth framing variations prevent
          monotony.

                   Doillon sent video crews to French preschools
          all over. Four- and five-year-olds were taped in
          interviews that elicited opinions on many topics,
          including death.  He then set up workshops, playing
          games, talking, doing skits with the selected children.
          This went on for six months. Then he wrote the
          screenplay using the workshop dialogues, and cast the
          children.

                The movie spends an absolute, minimal time on
          adults and their backgrounds. In spite of
          unspecifiedtimes and places there is no feeling of
          incompleteness. The grownups screen is both necessary
          and sufficient. The older people are the supporting cast
          to the children, who themselves are the supporting cast
          for Ponette. The story belongs to Ponette.  Superbly
          directed,Victoire Thivisol becomes as real as a
          documentary shot by a hidden camera. Doillon, with no
          maudliness,  recreates a specific case among universal
          traumas, in ways never quite seen before on the screen.
          © by Edwin Jahiel

          A second film review by Damian Cannon.

                   There are few transitions more traumatic than
          the loss of a parent, except perhaps the loss of both.
          It doesn't matter whether the end comes in a rush or
          extends for eternity, though the latter permits
          preparation. It doesn't matter whether you're young or
          old, though again the last allows a mature perspective.
          When it happens the pain is unique and self-defining, a
          psychic dismemberment. Time seals wounds with scar
          tissue, but it can never dull the longing for one final
          conversation.  It's the loose ends that trip you up, the
          trap of childhood; if you were never given the
          opportunity to communicate your deepest feelings,
          imagine how much stands unsaid.

                This is the territory mined by Ponette, a study
          made remarkable by its intuitive, affecting script and a
          brace of astonishing performances. At the centre we have
          Ponette, a little girl who's just had her mother
          snatched from mortal grasp. Ponette's father does his
          best to trace the unembellished facts for her, all the
          while coping with an unvented volcanic anger.
          Unfortunately he works away from home, meaning that
          Ponette must live and mourn with her aunt Claire.
          Distanced from the tragedy, Ponette's cousins Matiaz
          and Delphine are unable to comprehend or penetrate her
          shell of grief.

                  Related entirely from Ponette's perspective,
          both physically and mentally, Ponette is dominated by
          the 4-year old Thivisol. Present in almost every scene,
          it's her guilt, pain and imagination that form our
          journey. Yet Thivisol amazes for more than just being
          the lead actress; her performance is textured, raw and
          deeply uncomfortable. At times Thivisol melts from
          self-assurance to vulnerability in an eye-blink, without
          once passing through sentimentality. When Thivisol moans
          "I want to talk to my mommy", this simple request is
          charged with want, need, hope and love. It's a desire
          that cuts right to the heart of our mother-dependence;
          the one person to whom we can run to, drawing strength
          and unconditional love from an embrace. Thivisol's
          presence is beyond artifice, it simply is.

                 Yet while Thivisol shines bright, all of the
          child actors are superb, seemingly unaware of Caroline
          Champetier's intimate lens. Each is natural, alive,
          cunning, na•ve and trusting; qualities that any parent
          comes to recognise in their own offspring. A great deal
          of credit must, of course, be awarded to the dedicated
          Jacques Doillon. Drawing upon his interviews with
          thousands of nursery-school infants, Doillon pieces
          together a unique interpretation of the death process.
          The resulting script has an incredible feel for the
          child mind, a place of uncompromising reality tempered
          with absurdist confusion. This young brain has yet to
          sort through the torrent of answers, assumptions and
          interpolations pouring in through the senses; the film
          captures this outlook with atomic precision, never once
          betraying the presence of Doillon's guiding hand.

                Some may scoff at Ponette's engineered ending but
          I think that, in the context of Ponette's emotional
          imbalance, it strikes the right chord. Theentire story
          builds to this moment, the ultimate validation of
          youthful resilience; kids may be changeable and prone to
          storm-like mood swings, but this awards them the ability
          to bend rather than break. Ponette must achieve closure,
          a resolution strong enough to cement doubts and troubles
          into a manageable whole. She has had security ripped
          away, a cruelty at any age and a double blow for a
          child. The method by which she comes to terms with the
          absolute of death, through which Ponette converses with
          her mother, is neat, tidy and honest.

                 From Ponette emerges a sense of symbiosis, a
          fruitful relationship between Doillon's words and his
          tiny cast. The elements are clumsy, unlikely and
          insensitive but, in partnership, they convince in their
          extreme depth of unforced emotion. Philippe Sarde's
          subtle and appropriate score helps, though there's not
          too much that you can do with this type of story. The
          film succeeds, despite a slow start, because nothing
          acts to trip our finely balanced belief; this tangible
          agony is destined to register with anyone who has a
          mother, making it all the more difficult to get right.
          Doillon triumphs because he trusts his actors and his
          research, allowing the film to travel further then even
          he might ever have dreamed of. © Movie Reviews UK 1998

          --------------------------------------------------------

          En guise dÕexamen final

          Ceci est pour vous aider ˆ faire votre pr*sentation de
          fin de cours, que vous diviserez en deux:
          ¥ pr*sentation orale de 5 ˆ 6 minutes pr*c*d*e d'un
          r*sum* - synopsis - du film choisi
          ¥ suivie, si le temps le permet, dÕun vid*oclip
          pertinent (relevant) de 4 ˆ 5 minutes maximum)
          Voici, ˆ titre dÕexemple, comment vous pourriez
          pr*senter Ponette.

          1. R*sum*
                  Ponette, une petite fille de quatre ans, ne
          parvient pas ˆ accepter la mort tragique de sa m*re tu*e
          dans un accident dÕauto. Ponette, elle, nÕa eu quÕun
          bras cass*, ce qui explique son pl‰tre. Elle passe ses
          journ*es ˆ attendre sa maman, envers et contre toutes
          les tentatives des petits comme des grands pour lui
          faire comprendre lÕirr*m*diable: sa m*re est morte et
          enterr*e. Elle ne la verra plus. ÒDieu est pour les
          morts. Laisse-le tranquille,Ó lui r*p*te son p*re.

                   Avec cet argument tr*s simple, le r*alisateur,
          Jacques Doillon, a r*ussi un film tr*s *tonnant. De
          quelle mani*re? En ne faisant intervenir des adultes que
          de temps en temps, en pla*ant la cam*ra presque
          constamment ˆ la hauteur des enfants, et en mettant dans
          leur bouche des dialogues qui semblent v*ritablement
          leur appartenir. On suit ainsi la petite Ponette de tr*s
          pr*s, dans ses conversations avec ses cousins et ses
          amies, qui ont tous ˆ peu pr*s le m*me ‰ge, et dans ses
          propres moments de solitude. Les enfants abordent
          ensemble les questions les plus profondes, comme celle
          de lÕabsence de Dieu, la diff*rence entre catholiques,
          juifs et arabes, ce que cÕest quÕ*tre c*libataire, etc.
          sans jamais donner lÕimpression dÕ*tre de petits
          acteurs-singes et en montrant toute la tendresse et la
          craut* dont ils sont capables les uns envers les autres.

                 La merveilleuse et adorable Victoire Thivisol
          porte le film sur ses toutes petites *paules, rendant
          palpable et presque insoutenable lÕimmense chagrin de
          son personnage. Heureusement, ce chagrin est apais* dans
          une sc*ne finale, certes incroyable, diversement
          appr*ci*e par la critique mais vivement souhait*e par le
          spectateur plein d'empathie.

          Quelques notes explicatives:
          ¥ On notera que le r*alisateur a eu recours ˆ une
          psychanalyste ˆ qui il avait demand* dÕobserver les
          r*actions des enfants, celui de la petite Victoire (4
          ans) en particulier. Si celle-ci manifestait quelque
          signe de d*tresse, il arr*terait de tourner le film.
          Selon la psychanalyste, les enfants *taient tr*s heureux
          de jouer entre eux (between takes) et de Òjouer PonetteÓ
          devant la cam*ra. Quant ˆ Ponette, qui doit faire Òcomme
          siÓ sa m*re venait r*ellement de mourir, elle semble
          avoir merveilleusement compris son r™le, quoiquÕon ne
          sache pas grandÕchose de sa ÒtechniqueÓ ˆ produire des
          larmes sur commande. Le directeur devait lui demander
          dÕune fa*on s*v*re quand il voulait que celle-ci pleure.

          ¥ Le r*alisateur insiste aussi pour dire que la sc*ne
          finale de la Òr*surrectionÓ nÕ*tait pas son id*e mais
          lui est venue des centaines dÕenfants quÕil a
          interview*s en faisant ses recherches pour son film.

          2. Pourquoi jÕai choisi ce film?
          ¥ parce que cÕest un film, lent au d*part, qui me
          paraissait facile ˆ suivre pour un d*but de cours, un
          film qui plairait, je lÕesp*re, ˆ la majorit* dÕentre
          vous, et pour lequel vous nÕauriez pas trop de
          difficult*s ˆ r*pondre aux questions pos*es.
          ¥ parce que ce film est tout ˆ fait dans la tradition
          fran*aise dÕexploration de lÕenfance et de
          lÕadolescence, en particulier gr‰ce aux films de Ren*
          Cl*ment (Jeux interdits), Truffaut (LÕargent de poche),
          Louis Malle (Au revoir les enfants), Fantsen (La
          fracture du myocarde), etc.
          ¥ parce que ce film vous expose ˆ une langue simple,
          celle des enfants, une langue parl*e qui nÕexclut pas
          cependant certains mots vulgaires, tels que ÒconneÓ pour
          Òb*te / imb*cile / stupideÓ (jerk) ou Òse d*merderÓ au
          lieu de Òse d*brouillerÓ (to manage).

          3. Essayez de dire votre r*action personnelle ˆ ce film:

          ¥ Je crois que jÕai tout aim* dans ce film, depuis le
          jeu des ÒacteursÓ, qui ne paraissent pas *tre des
          acteurs -  celui extraordinaire de Ponette en
          particulier - jusquÕˆ la musique discr*te dÕAlain Sarde
          et la fa*on dont la directrice de la photographie (une
          femme) a su contraster lÕintimit* des visages des
          enfants avec lÕimmensit* du paysage environnant.
          ¥ JÕai beaucoup aim* les explications des enfants, ce
          que cÕest quÕun juif, ce que cÕest quÕun arabe, ce que
          cÕest quÕun c*libataire, ou encore que Mathiaz d*teste
          les suppositoires alors que Victoire les adoreÉ
          ¥ Edwin Jahiel se demande si la fin du film est Òpour de
          vraiÓ Òis the ending hokey or is it a convincing
          culmination of a childÕs imagination?Ó Je nÕai pas *t*
          surpris par la sc*ne finale de la r*surrection, qui
          correspond ˆ ce que nous savions d*jˆ de lÕimaginaire de
          Paulette  (ÒOui, elle vole avec son miroir magique,Ó
          r*pond-elle ˆ son p*re qui lui demande si elle sait ce
          que cela veut dire que sa m*re est morte)  et de tout ce
          quÕelle a entendu dire sur la r*surrection de J*sus par
          sa pieuse tante Claire.

          4. Dites aussi en quoi ce film est diff*rent des films
          am*ricains auxquels vous pourriez le comparer, ou alors
          semblable ˆ tel ou tel film que vous avez vu.
          Dit dÕune fa*on globale, les films dÕHollywood montrent
          les enfants de la fa*on dont les adultes les voient ou
          d*sirent quÕils soient vus. Les films fran*ais, au
          contraire, montrent plut™t les enfants tels quÕils sont
          en eux-m*mes, et surtout du point de vue des enfants
          eux-m*mes.

          5. Dites enfin ce que vous avez appris ou retenu et si
          cÕest un film que vous recommanderiez ˆ vos amis.
          ¥ Ce que je retiendrai surtout cÕest lÕexemple que nous
          donne ce film de la resilience (le fran*ais nÕa pas
          dÕ*quivalent pour traduire en un seul mot Ôr*sistanceÕ
          et Ô*lasticit*Õ, un mot emprunt* ˆ la physique ) des
          enfants. Je retiendrai aussi la r*ponse r*confortante de
          la m*re, laquelle donne sa finalit* au film, apporte la
          consolation ˆ Ponette, et que Doillon souligne tout ˆ la
          fin: ÒEssaie dÕ*tre heureuse.Ó
          ¥ CÕest certainement un film que je recommanderais ˆ mes
          amis, quÕils soient catholiques ou agnostiques.

          --------------------------------------------------------

          2. Mondo (1996)  Written by J. Tony Gatlif. From a short
          story by Jean-Marie Le Cl*zio - 4765

          The film is based on a short story by Jean-Marie Gustave
          Le Cl*zio, the award-winning author of some 27 books,
          who is considered by some to be a master of contemporary
          French literature.

          Lisons d'abord l'histoire  Mondo et autres histoires
          (Texte de Jean-Marie Gustave Le Cl*zio, 1978)

          En voici quelques extraits pour notre lecture en classe

          Personne n'aurait pu dire d'o* venait Mondo. Il *tait
          arriv* un jour, par hasard, ici dans notre ville, sans
          qu'on s'en aper*oive, et puis on s'*tait habitu* ˆ lui.
          C'*tait un gar*on d'une dizaine d'ann*es, avec un visage
          tout rond et tranquille, et de beaux yeux noirs un peu
          obliques. Mais c'*tait surtout ses cheveux qu'on
          remarquait, des cheveux brun cendr* qui changeaient de
          couleur selon la lumi*re, et qui paraissaient presque
          gris ˆ la tomb*e de la nuit.

          On ne savait rien de sa famille, ni de sa maison.
          Peut-*tre qu'il n'en avait pas. Toujours, quand on ne
          s'y attendait pas, quand on ne pensait pas ˆ lui, il
          apparaissait au coin d'une rue, pr*s de la plage, ou sur
          la place du march*. Il marchait seul, l'air d*cid*, en
          regardant autour de lui. Il *tait habill* tous les jours
          de la m*me fa*on, un pantalon bleu en denim, des
          chaussures de tennis, et un T-shirt vert un peu trop
          grand pour lui.

          Quand il arrivait vers vous, il vous regardait bien en
          face, il souriait, et ses yeux *troits devenaient deux
          fentes brillantes. C'*tait sa fa*on de saluer. Quand il
          y avait quelqu'un qui lui plaisait, il l'arr*tait et lui
          demandait tout simplement:

          Ç Est-ce que vous voulez m'adopter? È

          Et avant que les gens soient revenus de leur surprise,
          il *tait d*jˆ loin.

          Qu'est-ce qu'il *tait venu faire ici, dans cette ville ?
          Peut-*tre qu'il *tait arriv* apr*s avoir voyag*
          longtemps dans la soute d'un cargo, ou dans le dernier
          wagon d'un train de marchandises qui avait roul*
          lentement ˆ travers le pays, jour apr*s jour, nuit apr*s
          nuit. Peut-*tre qu'il avait d*cid* de s'arr*ter, quand
          il avait vu le soleil et la mer, les villas blanches et
          les jardins de palmiers. Ce qui est certain, c'est qu'il
          venait de tr*s loin, de l'autre c™t* des montagnes, de
          l'autre c™t* de la mer. Rien qu'ˆ le voir, on savait
          qu'il n'*tait pas d'ici, et qu'il avait vu beaucoup de
          pays. Il avait ce regard noir et brillant, cette peau
          couleur de cuivre, et cette d*marche l*g*re,
          silencieuse, un peu de travers, comme les chiens. Il
          avait surtout une *l*gance et une assurance que les
          enfants n'ont pas d'ordinaire ˆ cet ‰ge, et il aimait
          poser des questions *tranges qui ressemblaient ˆ des
          devinettes. Pourtant, il ne savait pas lire ni *crire.
          .../...
          Ç Je voudrais que vous m'appreniez ˆ lire et ˆ *crire,
          s'il vous pla”t È, dit Mondo.

          Le vieil homme restait immobile, mais il n'avait pas
          l'air *tonn*.

          Ç Tu ne vas pas ˆ l'*cole? È

          Ç Non monsieur È, dit Mondo.

          Le vieil homme s'asseyait sur la plage, le dos contre le
          mur, le visage tourn* vers le soleil. Il regardait
          devant lui, et son expression *tait tr*s calme et douce,
          malgr* son nez busqu* et les rides qui coupaient ses
          joues. Quand il regardait Mondo, c'*tait comme s'il
          voyait ˆ travers lui, parce que ses iris *taient si
          clairs. Puis il y avait une lueur d'amusement dans son
          regard, et il dit :

          Ç Je veux bien t'apprendre ˆ lire et ˆ *crire, si c'est
          *a que tu veux. È Sa voix *tait comme ses yeux, tr*s
          calme et lointaine, comme s'il avait peur de faire trop
          de bruit en parlant.

          Ç Tu ne sais vraiment rien du tout ? È

          Ç Non monsieur È, dit Mondo.

          L'homme avait pris dans son sac de plage un vieux canif
          ˆ manche rouge et il avait commenc* ˆ graver les signes
          des lettres sur des galets bien plats. En m*me temps, il
          parlait ˆ Mondo de tout ce qu'il y a dans les lettres,
          de tout ce qu'on peut y voir quand on les regarde et
          quand on les *coute. Il parlait de A qui est comme une
          grande mouche avec ses ailes repli*es en arri*re; de B
          qui est dr™le, avec ses deux ventres, de C et D qui sont
          comme la lune, en croissant et ˆ moiti* pleine, et 0 qui
          est la lune tout enti*re dans le ciel noir. Le H est
          haut, c'est une *chelle pour monter aux arbres et sur le
          toit des maisons; E et F, qui ressemblent ˆ un r‰teau et
          ˆ une pelle, et G, un gros homme assis dans un fauteuil;
          I danse sur la pointe de ses pieds, avec sa petite t*te
          qui se d*tache ˆ chaque bond, pendant que J se balance;
          mais K est cass* comme un vieillard, R marche ˆ grandes
          enjamb*es comme un soldat, et Y est debout, les bras en
          l'air et crie : au secours! L est un arbre au bord de la
          rivi*re, M est une montagne; N est pour les noms, et les
          gens saluent de la main, P dort sur une patte et 0 est
          assis sur sa queue; S, c'est toujours un serpent, Z
          toujours un *clair; T est beau, c'est comme le m‰t d'un
          bateau, U est comme un vase. V, W, ce sont des oiseaux,
          des vols d'oiseaux; X est une croix pour se souvenir.

          Avec la pointe de son canif, le vieil homme tra*ait les
          signes sur les galets et les disposait devant Mondo.

          Ç Quel est ton nom ? È

          Ç Mondo È, disait Mondo.

          Le vieil homme choisissait quelques galets, en ajoutait
          un autre.

          Ç Regarde. C'est ton nom *crit, lˆ. È

          Ç C'est beau! È disait Mondo. Ç Il y a une montagne, la
          lune, quelqu'un qui salue le croissant de lune, et
          encore la lune. Pourquoi y a-t-il  toutes ces lunes ? È

          Ç C'est dans ton nom, c'est tout È, disait le vieil
          homme. Ç C'est comme *a que tu t'appelles.
          .../...
          C'est environ ˆ cette *poque-lˆ que Mondo avait
          rencontr* Thi Chin, quand les journ*es *taient belles et
          les nuits longues et chaudes. Mondo *tait sorti de sa
          cachette du soir, ˆ la base de la digue. Le vent ti*de
          soufflait de la terre, le vent sec qui rend les cheveux
          *lectriques et fait br*ler les for*ts de ch*nes-li*ges.
          Sur les collines, au-dessus de la ville, Mondo voyait
          une grande fum*e blanche qui s'*talait dans le ciel.
           .../..
          Ç Qui es-tu? È demandait la voix aigu‘.

          Maintenant, devant Mondo, il y avait une femme, mais
          elle *tait si petite que Mondo avait cru un instant que
          c'*tait une enfant. Ses cheveux noirs *taient coup*s en
          rond autour de son visage, et elle *tait v*tue d'un long
          tablier bleu-gris.

          Elle souriait.

          Ç Qui es-tu ? È

          Mondo *tait debout, ˆ peine plus petit qu'elle. Il
          b‰illait.

          Ç Tu dormais? È

          Ç Excusez-moi È, dit Mondo. Ç Je suis entr* dans votre
          jardin, j'*tais un peu fatigu*, alors j'ai dormi un peu.
          Je vais partir maintenant. È

          Ç Pourquoi veux-tu partir tout de suite ? Tu n'aimes pas
          le jardin ? È

          Ç Si, il est tr*s beau È, dit Mondo. Il cherchait sur le
          visage de la petite femme un signe de col*re. Mais elle
          continuait ˆ sourire. Ses yeux brid*s avaient une
          expression curieuse, comme les chats. Autour des yeux et
          de la bouche, il y avait des rides profondes, et Mondo
          pensait que la femme *tait vieille.

          Ç Viens voir la maison aussi È, dit-elle.

          Elle montait le petit escalier en demi-lune et elle
          ouvrait la porte.

          Ç Viens donc! È

          Mondo entrait derri*re elle. C'*tait une grande salle
          presque vide, *clair*e sur les quatre c™t*s par de
          hautes fen*tres. Au centre de la salle, il y avait une
          table de bois et des chaises, et sur la table un plateau
          laqu* portant une th*i*re noire et des bols. Mondo
          restait immobile sur le seuil, regardant la salle et les
          fen*tres. Les fen*tres *taient faites de petits carreaux
          de verre d*poli, et la lumi*re qui entrait *tait encore
          plus chaude et dor*e. Mondo n'avait jamais vu une
          lumi*re aussi belle.

          La petite femme *tait debout devant la table et elle
          versait le th* dans les bols.

          Ç Est-ce que tu aimes le th* ? È

          Ç Oui È, dit Mondo.

          Ç Alors viens t'asseoir ici. È

          Mondo s'asseyait lentement sur le bord de la chaise et
          il buvait. Le breuvage *tait couleur d'or aussi, il
          br*lait les l*vres et la gorge.

          Ç C'est chaud È, dit-il.

          La petite femme buvait une gorg*e sans bruit.

          Ç Tu ne m'as pas dit qui tu *tais È, dit-elle. Sa voix
          *tait comme une musique douce.

          Ç Je suis Mondo È, dit Mondo.

          La petite femme le regardait en souriant. Elle semblait
          plus petite encore sur sa chaise.

          Ç Moi, je suis Thi Chin. È

          Ç Vous *tes chinoise ? È demandait Mondo. La petite
          femme secouait la t*te.

          Ç Je suis vietnamienne, pas chinoise. È

          Ç C'est loin, votre pays ? È

          Ç Oui, c'est tr*s tr*s loin. È

          Mondo buvait le th* et sa fatigue s'en allait.

          Ç Et toi, d'o* viens-tu ? Tu n'es pas d'ici, n'est-ce
          pas ? È

          Mondo ne savait pas trop ce qu'il fallait dire.

          Ç Non, je ne suis pas d'ici È, dit-il. Il *cartait les
          m*ches de ses cheveux en baissant la t*te. La petite
          femme ne cessait pas de sourire, mais ses yeux *troits
          *taient un peu inquiets soudain.

          Ç Reste encore un instant È, dit-elle. Ç Tu ne veux pas
          partir tout de suite ? È

          Ç Je n'aurais pas d* entrer dans votre jardin È, dit
          Mondo. Ç Mais la porte *tait ouverte, et j'*tais un peu
          fatigu*. È

          Ç Tu as bien fait d'entrer È, dit simplement Thi Chin. Ç
          Tu vois, j'avais laiss* la porte ouverte pour toi. È

          Ç Alors vous saviez que j'allais venir? È dit Mondo.
          Cette id*e le rassurait.

          Thi Chin faisait oui de la t*te, et elle tendait ˆ Mondo
          une bo”te de fer-blanc pleine de macarons.

          Ç Tu as faim? È

          Ç Oui È, dit Mondo. Il grignotait le macaron en
          regardant les grandes fen*tres par o* entrait la
          lumi*re.

          Ç C'est beau È, dit-il. Ç Qu'est-ce qui fait tout cet
          or? È

          Ç C'est la lumi*re du soleil È, dit Thi Chin.

          Ç Alors vous *tes riche ? È

          Thi Chin riait.

          Ç Cet or-lˆ n'appartient ˆ personne. È

          Ils regardaient la belle lumi*re comme dans un r*ve.

          Ç C'est comme cela dans mon pays È, disait Thi Chin ˆ
          voix basse.

          Ç Quand le soleil se couche, le ciel devient comme cela,
          tout jaune, avec de petits nuages noirs tr*s l*gers, on
          dirait des plumes d'oiseau.È

          La lumi*re d'or emplissait toute la pi*ce et Mondo se
          sentait plus calme et plus fort, comme apr*s avoir bu le
          th* chaud.

          Ç Tu aimes ma maison È demandait Thi Chin.

          Ç Oui madame È, disait Mondo. Ses yeux refl*taient la
          couleur du soleil.

          Ç Alors c'est ta maison aussi, quand tu veux. È
          ../...
          Thi Chin lui donnait ˆ manger du riz et un bol de
          l*gumes rouges et verts ˆ moiti* cuits, et toujours du
          th* chaud dans les petits bols blancs. Quelquefois,
          quand la nuit *tait tr*s noire, Thi Chin prenait un
          livre d'images et elle lui racontait une histoire
          ancienne. C'*tait une longue histoire qui se passait
          dans un pays inconnu o* il y avait des monuments aux
          toits pointus, des dragons et des animaux qui savaient
          parler comme les hommes. L'histoire *tait si belle que
          Mondo ne pouvait pas l'entendre jusqu'au bout. Il
          s'endormait, et la petite femme s'en allait sans faire
          de bruit, apr*s avoir *teint la lampe. Elle dormait au
          premier *tage, dans une chamber *troite. Le matin, quand
          elle se r*veillait, Mondo *tait d*jˆ parti.
          .../..
          Les ann*es, les mois et les jours passaient, maintenant
          sans Mondo, car c'*tait un temps ˆ la fois tr*s long et
          trop court, et beaucoup de gens, ici, dans notre ville,
          attendaient quelqu'un sans oser le dire. Sans s'en
          rendre compte, souvent, nous l'avons cherch* dans la
          foule, au coin des rues, devant une porte. Nous avons
          regard* les galets blancs de la plage, et la mer qui
          ressemble ˆ un mur. Puis nous avons un peu oubli*.

          Un jour, longtemps apr*s, la petite femme vietnamienne
          marchait dans son jardin, en haut de la colline. Elle
          s'asseyait sous le massif de laurier-sauce o* il y avait
          beaucoup de moustiques tigr*s qui dansaient dans l'air,
          et elle avait ramass* un dr™le de caillou poli par l'eau
          de mer. Sur le c™t* du galet, elle avait vu des signes
          grav*s, ˆ demi effac*s par la poussi*re. Avec
          pr*caution, et le cÏur battant un peu plus vite, elle
          avait essuy* la poussi*re avec un coin de son tablier et
          elle avait vu deux mots *crits en lettres capitales
          maladroites:  TOUJOURS   BEAUCOUP  © Gallimard, 1978

          On Mondo

          One review

          Mondo relates the parable of a 10-year-old homeless boy
          who wanders onto the streets of Nice, France, one day
          and proceeds to drift in and out of the lives of its
          shopkeepers, panhandlers and street performers. TheÊ
          film is luminously shot, imparting a dreamy, post-card
          glow to the avenues, markets and docks of seaside
          France. Mondo's greatest grace lies in its freedom from
          the constraints of plot. Throughout its 80-minute run,
          we are treated simply to a view of the world as seen
          through the eyes of this mysterious child. And what a
          world of small wonders it is: statues stare stone-eyed
          in an abandoned park, dew drops glow like diamonds on
          leaves, sunlight turns a kitchen table the color of
          gold. Innocence is one of the most honest filters
          through which we are able to perceive the world around
          us. Gatlif spins a warm, inviting web around us by
          showing not only what young Mondo sees, but how he sees
          it. As Mondo goes about his daily rounds, he sees the
          ugliness as well as the beauty that surrounds us:
          dogcatchers hunt down strays, police harass illegal
          immigrants. "Mondo" means nothing less than "the world,"
          and perhaps that's exactly what Le Cl*zio's unadorned
          little fable is trying to show us.

           By centering on the exploits of a wide-eyed waif, Mondo
          could have wandered dangerously into the territory of
          the cute and mawkish. ByÊ casting its protagonist
          (11-year-old Rumanian gypsy Ovidiu Balan) as a
          mysterious Peter Pan without a past, Mondo exudes the
          surrealist air of a modern fairy tale. Thankfully, Mondo
          imparts its moral without proselytizing. Everything in
          Mondo is delivered "under the radar."

              Stepping out of the theater, though, you may find
          your senses a little sharpened by the whole experience.
          Your eyes may take in a little more of your environment.
          Your mind may dwell a little longer on certain vistas.
          Awareness is perhaps the first step in any sort of
          understanding. Can we truly understand provincial
          problems like homelessness or global problems like war
          without first being aware of them?Ê It's hard for me to
          imagine someone being immune to the charms of this
          exquisite little gift of a film. Mondo is beautifully
          shot, meticulously realized and perfectly acted by its
          cast of nonprofessionals. In times to come, I am sure
          that Mondo will be regarded as a cinematic classic.  ©
          Reviewed by  Devin D. O'Leary

          Another Review

          All the performers are amateurs. Mondo is played by
          Ovidiu Balan, a Rumanian gypsy about whom I know nothing
          except that after the movie was made he and his family
          [mother and grandmother] were deported back to Rumania.
          He lives by what is commonly known as "his wits,"  but
          without all the tricks  and illegalities this expression
          may imply. First he is seen at one of those great farmer
          markets where he scrounges for discards. He sleeps
          outdoors on the grass. (In a surreal sequences, he is
          near statues of famous men and there's a voice-off
          commentary. One of the busts is Balzac's). One of the
          first locals he meets is a man on a bench, reading
          Flaubert. Out of a blue sky the kid asks him "Will you
          adopt me?" It's a brief, heart-rending moment that will
          be repeated later to a passerby. (In both cases the boy
          runs off). Mondo is curious, friendly, lovable. His
          smile is infectious, irresistible. I would adopt that
          boy without thinking twice about it. He then encounters
          a kindly ex-sailor who is fishing, teaches the  child,
          discusses exotic ports with him, and later teaches him
          the alphabet in the most ingenious way. In succession,
          Mondo also meets aged Dadi  (aka Dove Man, as he keeps
          two birds) who is played by real homeless Scot; a
          magician played by famous tighrope walker Philippe
          Petit; an older  woman, Thi Chin in her big house and
          garden (of Eden?) who cares for him when he has a fever
          and befriends him. Seeing her garb he asks "Are you
          Vietnamese?" "No, I am a Jew born in Vietnam and I came
          here years ago." The cast includes a Turkish Kurd woman,
          a political refugee, who sings beautifully and adds to
          the splendid variety of music here; a postman who is a
          real postman; and other "real people."

          As Mondo explores the world around him, looks and
          listens, asks questions, tries his first elevator, gets
          soaked in rain and still scrounges for food, the persons
          he comes in contact with are just about all kind,
          including a bakery lady who repeatedly offers him bread.
          There's something both subtle and obvious as Mondo is
          placed in an environment of enticing French foods,
          supermarkets, fresh fruit and vegetables--yet at times
          has to get his sustenance from nature.

          Jean-Marie Le Cl*zio has found an ideal director in Mr.
          Gatlif. Their collaboration results in something
          entirely fresh, novel, yet in the great French tradition
          of films in which children are seen with undertsanding,
          love, realism but also imagination. As, for example,  in
          Jean Vigo's "Zero for Conduct" or in the films of
          Fran*ois Truffaut  and several filmmakers of all
          periods.  Is it an accident that a welfare officer says
          that Mondo is "a wild child," the title of a Truffaut
          movie? Or that in Truffaut's "The 400 Blows" the child
          hero worships Balzac whose statue we see and who is also
          the author of "Colonel Chabert," a name that appears on
          a prospectus that the  postman hands Mondo as "mail for
          you"?

              The appeal, the warmth of the boy Mondo and of the
          movie "Mondo" cannot be described. Tony Gatlif, the
          filmmaker of Rom (Gypsy) lineage who made, among other
          Rom-themed movies, "Latcho Drom," combines in with much
          talent and in credible ways, fact and imagination,
          emotion  without sentimental schlock, selective realism
          --extremely well photographed and edited --without
          cheating. Mondo disappears as mysteriously as he had
          appeared. His absence, like Gypsy magic, causes odd
          perturbances. The last words of the film's are
          voice-off: "We looked for Mondo everywhere.  Then we
          forgot a little."  © [Extracts] by Edwin Jahiel
          --------------------------------------------------------
 3.  Au revoir les enfants (Goodbye children) (1988)
Louis Malle  104 mins. - 2073

              Janvier 1944. Julien, 11 ans, est pensionnaire dans
          une *cole catholique. Un jour, un nouvel *l*ve, Jean
          Bonnet, arrive au coll*ge.  Il est brillant, r*serv* et
          semble cacher un lourd secret. Julien et Jean deviennent
          amis.

          Louis Malle returns to the days of German occupation
          during World War II to recount the story of the
          friendship between two schoolboys, one Jewish and the
          other Catholic.

          Au Revoir Les Enfants  is a touching and nostalgic film
          about the loss of innocence. Julien Quentin is an
          awkward, fanciful adolescent who is sent by his doting
          mother to a provincial Catholic boarding school. Set in
          1940's war-torn France, there is an underlying sense of
          hardship and uncertainty in this idyllic countryside:
          German-patrolled streets, food rations, and air raids.
          The children, oblivious to the crisis plaguing their
          nation, react with contempt and cruelty at the adults
          around them who are desperately trying (with their
          extremely limited resources) to protect them. One day,
          three new students are introduced to the class,
          including an unassuming young man named Jean Bonnet.
          Julien is initially envious of the silent, enigmatic
          Jean, who seems to excel in everything he tries, but
          gradually cultivates a friendship with him. They sneak
          into the music room to play the piano, team up for a
          treasure hunt in the woods (and subsequently, get
          hopelessly lost), and secretly read Arabian Nights
          (undoubtedly a pensive and literate adolescent's
          erotica).  However, there are also fragments of Jean's
          actions whose significance eludes the naive Julien. It
          is his moment of realization that shatters Julien's
          innocence and has profound consequences for Jean. Au
          Revoir Les Enfants  is a visually stunning and
          emotionally devastating story of innocence, friendship,
          and regret.

          Quelques mots dÕabord pour situer le film dans son
          contexte historique.

          Entre 1940 et 1944, la France a *t* envahie, puis
          occup*e, par lÕAllemagne. Cette p*riode sÕappelle
          lÕOcupation, durant laquelle le gouvernement du Mar*chal
          P*tain, install* en zone libre ˆ Vichy, devient de plus
          en plus soumis aux Allemands, en ce qui concerne en
          particulier la d*nonciation des Juifs. Aussi choquant
          que cela puisse para”tre, les Juifs fran*ais vivant en
          France ou en Alg*rie nÕ*taient plus consid*r*s comme
          citoyens fran*ais. Ainsi vous entendrez Gestapo Muller
          dire aux enfants ˆ propos de Jean Bonnet: ÒCe gar*on est
          un Juif; il nÕest pas fran*ais.) De plus, les jeunes
          Fran*ais qui avaient vingt ans en 1944 *taient dans
          lÕobligation dÕaller travailler en Allemagne au titre de
          STOs (Service du Travail Obligatoire). De nombreux
          jeunes refus*rent dÕob*ir et durent se cacher (exemple
          de Moreau, le moniteur dÕ*ducation physique.)

          Quelques mots d'introduction: L'enfance, l'adolescence
          et la transition difficile ˆ l'‰ge adulte sont des
          th*mes constants dans l'oeuvre de Louis malle.

          Th*se de l'omnipr*sence du mal et l'*quivalence de ses
          manifestations : que ce soit au fonds des bois, lorsque
          les deux gar*ons sont perdus et que Bonnet demande s'il
          a des loups dans cette for*t ; ou encore le mal de
          lÕAllemagne nazie et de sa Gestapo (la police politique
          du troisi*me Reich) pers*cutant les Juifs.

          Le centre moral du film reste avec le pr*tre, le
          directeur de l'*cole, le P*re Jean. Les deux d*cisions
          cruciales du film sont siennes: d'abord de cacher Bonnet
          et les deux autres gar*ons juifs sous des faux noms;
          ensuite, deuxi*mement, de punir Joseph, le gar*on de
          cuisine infirme qui fait du march* noir avec plusieurs
          gar*ons, dont Julien, tout en ne mettant pas ˆ la porte,
          par consid*ration envers leurs parents, ses complices
          parmi les *l*ves (une discrimination dont l'injustice
          lui cause une peine *vidente.) Nous le voyons aussi
          refuser la communion ˆ Bonnet, sans crainte de le
          distinguer des autres ; nous voyons *galement comment il
          pr*che contre la duret* dc riches dans son sermon le
          jour de la f*te des parents ; nous le voyons encore
          rejeter l'int*r*t que manifeste Julien pour la pr*trise:
          ÒJe ne crois pas que vous ayez la vocation. De toute
          fa*on, c'est un fichu m*tier.Ó

          Bien qu'il y ait une forte touche de recherche
          autobiographique dans Au Revoir les enfants, ce nÕest
          pas une oeuvre d'autobiographie pure. "Mon imagination a
          utilis* la m*moire comme tremplin. J'ai r*invent* le
          pass*, par delˆ la reconstruction historique, ˆ la
          recherche d'une v*rit* ˆ la fois intemporelle et
          insistente. A travers les yeux de ce petit gar*on qui me
          ressemble, j'ai essay* de red*couvrir cette premi*re
          amiti*, la plus forte, qui a *t* d*truite si brutalement
          et cette premi*re rencontre avec le monde absurde des
          adultes, avec toute sa violence (la guerre) et ses
          pr*judices (le racisme, la haine et la pers*cution des
          Juifs par les Nazis."

          Faites attention, presque ˆ la fin du film, ˆ la br*ve
          sc*ne o Julien, regardant dans la direction de Jean
          Bonnet, est vu par l'officier allemand, (Gestapo
          Muller), par lˆ = de cette mani*re, accidentellement,
          involontairement, trahissant son ami juif, (de son vrai
          nom Hans = Jean Helmut Michael, qui mourut plus tard ˆ
          Auschwitz. "Je ne me suis jamais remis, dit Malle, de
          cet incident (i.e. de cette trahison accidentelle). Je
          suis encore un enfant... et je crois que le passage de
          l'enfance ˆ l'adolescence est le moment le plus
          int*ressant dans la vie d'une personne."

          Malle a fait de son mieux pour rendre toute l'authencit*
          de l'atmosph*re durant ce mois de janvier 1944, quand
          l'hiver fut extr*menent s*v*re, exemple l'absence de
          soleil et l'utilisation de "couleurs sans couleur".

          Malle a fait en sorte *galememt pour que son film *vite
          toute forme de manich*isme, (bien oppos* au mal / good
          versus evil ), ˆ savoir que les Fran*ais seraient tous
          bons et que les Allemands seraient tous mauvais. A ses
          yeux donc, la religieuse de lÕinfirmerie o* N*gus est
          cach* sous les draps est ˆ ses yeux aussi mauvaise que
          Joseph qui a d*nonc* le P*re Jean aux autorit*s de
          lÕOccupation.  Vous remarquerez *galement comment le
          jeune officier allemand ordonne ˆ la milice (donc ˆ des
          soldats fran*ais) qui collaboraient avec les Allemands.
          de laisser tranquille Monsieur Meyer, le vieux monsieur
          juif rencontr* au restaurant

          Vous noterez *galement que le film commence sur une
          image de Julien alors quÕil quitte Paris pour le coll*ge
          et se termine sur un autre gros-plan de Julien, larmes
          aux yeux, disant au revoir ˆ son ami. Ceci pour
          signifier que du d*but ˆ la fin du film, il sÕagit bien
          de SON histoire.

          Note:  Vous remarquerez quÕil d*die ce film ˆ ses trois
          enfants. Louis Malle, qui *tait le mari de Candice
          Bergen, est mort du cancer en 1995.

          A Film Review by Manavendra K. Thakur

          Every detail of the events on January 15, 1944, has
          become etched into Louis Malle's memory. On that tragic
          day, an 11-year-old Louis Malle and his fellow students
          in a Catholic school fifty miles south of Paris watched
          as the local Gestapo chieftain arrested three of their
          Jewish classmates along with Father Jacques, the
          school's headmaster who had hidden the Jewish boys for
          over a year.

          Now, more than forty years later after the Nazis sent
          the four to their deaths, Louis Malle shares this most
          intimate and troubling memory of his childhood in AU
          REVOIR LES ENFANTS, which he wrote, produced, and
          directed.  No other filmmaker in recent memory has bared
          his or her soul to the bone more movingly and more
          convincingly than Louis Malle has done in this film.  By
          focusing his film only on the specific events he
          witnessed that led up to that fateful day, Louis Malle's
          film becomes the rarest of rarities: a film that is
          intensely personal and deeply moving, yet does not
          degenerate into vacuous melodrama or political polemic.
          The simple and unrelenting honesty of his film
          transforms Louis Malle's personal catharsis into an
          experience of universal and profoundly human dimensions.

          Literally, the title refers to the farewell that Father
          Jacques (renamed Father Jean in the film) utters to the
          students as he's being led away by the Germans, but
          metaphorically it heralds the end of Louis Malle's own
          childhood innocence.  Through the eyes of Julien
          Quentin, Louis Malle depicts his introduction to the
          harsh realities from which his upper-middle class
          background had sheltered him.  The loss of innocence
          begins in the very first scene as Julien prepares to
          board the train that will take him to the school.  He
          can't stand the thought of leaving Paris, and he tells
          his mother that he hates her for making him go.  Her
          response is to hug and kiss him. It is a poignant
          moment, but Julien's outburst points to the tensions
          that have already been created within him by the war,
          tensions that will develop and express themselves later.

          From there, the film shifts to the school itself, where
          Julien forgets about the outside world and goes about
          being a studious and playful seventh grader.  He reads
          novels after hours with a flashlight, plays pranks on
          other children, and cavorts on stilts in the schoolyard
          during recess. During these scenes, Louis Malle creates
          an almost perfect aura of boarding school life, complete
          with the children's token adherence to religious rituals
          and gripes about the food being good only when parents
          come to visit. By relying on the natural responses of
          his young actors, Malle captures youthful bravados and
          mannerisms with the same astounding resonance of
          Fran*ois Truffaut's THE 400 BLOWS, and indeed a scene of
          the schoolchildren marching through the streets creates
          a powerful sense of d*jˆ vu.

          What primarily distinguishes Louis Malle's depiction
          from the spate of recent coming-of-age films, however,
          is that Julien is neither a child claiming to be an
          adult nor an adult pretending to be a child. When the
          three young boys arrive at the school, one of them, Jean
          Bonnet is assigned the bed next to Julien's. Julien acts
          just as a typical tough kid would: he introduces himself
          by saying "I'm Julien. Don't mess with me." But while he
          joins in the boys' pranks and teasing, Julien also finds
          himself intrigued by the quiet, reserved manner in which
          Jean bears all the abuse. Little by little, a shaky
          friendship with numerous ups and downs develops between
          them. Their friendship becomes cemented when the two
          find themselves lost in the woods as they search for a
          treasure during a scouting game. Frightened and cold,
          they are found on a highway by three soldiers on patrol
          in a jeep, who return them to the school. What Julien
          can't understand is why Jean tried to run when he
          realized that the soldiers were German.  After Julien
          discovers that Jean's real last name is Kippelstein, he
          eventually realizes that Jean is Jewish -- but even then
          has to ask his brother what it means to be Jewish.
          Julien is now at a seminal point in his maturity, where
          he cradles an already emerging adult awareness with his
          yet potent youthful exuberance.

          Louis Malle's heartfelt construction of this child/adult
          balance is at the core of the film's success. By the end
          of the film, the viewer does not merely sympathize with
          the two boys as the Gestapo make their arrests at the
          school. Rather, the audience empathizes so thoroughly
          with the two boys' experience that their ordeal becomes
          the viewer's as well. The film's final shots convey the
          full emotional weight of the bond between Julien and
          Jean that has been so sharply cut, but those shots do
          not degenerate into tearjerker sentiment because the
          audience feels the hurt caused by the arbitrariness and
          extent of the Nazi's evil as though it had been aimed
          personally against the viewer. Few films manage to link
          its characters with the audience so closely as Malle's
          convincing and even-handed portrayal of the array of
          human weaknesses and strengths.

          And Malle gives the film a tremendous thematic scope to
          the film as well as depth, which contributes further to
          Julien's loss of innocence. Joseph, an orphan who works
          in the school's kitchen, runs a black market where the
          children can trade their food from home for cigarettes
          and dirty books. When the scam is discovered, Joseph is
          fired while the students who collaborated with him are
          merely reprimanded due to their family prestige.  Joseph
          repays this acknowledged injustice by the same act that
          Louis Malle explored in his 1974 film LACOMBE LUCIEN,
          and it is just as inexplicable and appropriate here as
          it was in that film.  Julien cannot believe his eyes
          when he discovers what his friend has done.

          In another scene, Jean Bonnet joins Julien and his
          family for a Sunday lunch outing. While they are eating,
          two French militiamen enter and begin to harass an
          elderly distinguished gentleman who is in the restaurant
          illegally. While most of the patrons grumble some
          support for the gentleman, it is none other than a Nazi
          officer who seizes the initiative and throws the
          militiamen out. The enormous moral implications about
          the acquiescence to evil begin to dawn on Julien (and
          the audience) when a surprised diner's exclamation that
          not all Germans are bad is immediately followed by a
          cynical comment that the Nazi officer was really just
          grandstanding in front of Julien's attractive mother.
          Jean, meanwhile, remains still as a mouse; he's seen it
          all before, and he displays virtually no sign of how
          quietly desperate his life has become.

          It is through repeated scenes such as these that Louis
          Malle establishes unique and moral complexities within
          which Julien comes of age. Watching Julien explore these
          contradictions is never tiresome -- even though the
          audience knows in advance the inevitable outcome --
          because o the natural and believable ensemble
          performances. Louis Malle likes to work with
          inexperienced young actors, and in this film, he draws
          upon thei natural inclinations and reactions so
          masterfully that the distinction between actor and
          character is erased. Louis Malle's film creates not a
          flat stage for the actors to work on, but rather a fully
          articulated and three-dimensional world for the
          characters to inhabit and live in. The balance between
          the narrative and its context is impeccable.

          It is quite fortunate that Louis Malle waited all these
          years to make this film because the perspective gained
          from that experience enabled him to crystallize all his
          humanity and all his filmmaking skills into a solid film
          that defies trivialization or dismissal. And because he
          has fictionalized certain scenes and details while
          remaining thoroughly true to what he calls "the most
          tragic memory of my childhood," his film involves the
          audience in a manner that no documentary or polemic
          could hope to equal. Louis Malle has shown that despite
          the staggering amount that has been written already,
          there yet remains much to say and remember about the
          horrors of the Nazi era. One has to return to THE GRANDE
          ILLUSION, THE SEVEN SAMURAI, and the films of Ingmar
          Bergman and Satyajit Ray to find similarly moving
          portraits of the human condition. A film like AU REVOIR
          LES ENFANTS arrives only rarely, a precious event that
          will be remembered for years to come by those who
          witness its birth. © Manavendra K. Thakur
          --------------------------------------------------------

          4. Romuald et Juliette (Mama, There is a Man in your Bed
          )  Coline Serreau - 3392

               A white man, Romuald, who is an executive at a
          yogurt company falls in love with Juliette, the black
          woman who cleans his office. She has five children, all
          by different husbands, and does not have enough money to
          pay the rent. He has a beautiful wife, a beautiful
          girfriend, and children who are driven to school by a
          chauffeur. Together, the two solve a nasty office
          politicsintrigue; and despite the coincidence of their
          names, these two lovers do not end up committing suicide
          side by side.

              ÒThis hilarious comedy from the writer and director
          of the original Three Men and a Baby tells of the rise,
          fall and rise again of the powerful C.E.O. of a major
          corporation.  At the peak of his powers, Romuald becomes
          the victim of envious board members who plan a takeover,
          framing Romuald for insider trading.  But RomualdÕs
          rivals have an unexpected adversary and Romuald has an
          unexpected friend ? the cleaning lady Juliette.
          Juliette, working late at night, has witnessed just
          enough to piece together the conspiracy against
          Romuald.  She offers to help him and together they
          conspire to take back his company.  Romuald hides out in
          JulietteÕs cramped apartment and before long finds
          himself caught up in the complexities of JulietteÕs life
          including her five children and five ex-husbands.  With
          her help, it doesnÕt take Romuald long to stab the
          back-stabbers back and regain his place in the company.
          But happiness for Romuald is incomplete without the
          cleaning lady who won his heart ? and won back his
          company ? so Romuald proposes a merger, a merger of
          love.  ItÕs a contract heÕll never regret.Ó

                Colline Serreau, who came out of the 1968 protest
          tradition, uses the same light touchthat she perfected
          in her smash hit, "Three Men and a Cradle", to get her
          concerns about racism and social injustice across with
          sublety. Time Magazine said, "By film's end any skeptic
          will believe that natural combatants - rich and poor,
          white and black, man and woman can be made gracious
          allies. It takes just a little goodwill and a very good
          film."

          ... ou en fran*ais:

                Ils n'*taient pas faits pour se rencontrer.
          Romuald est le P-DG [Pr*sident Directeur G*n*ral] de
          "Blanlait", une grande entreprise de produits laitiers.
          Il *volue dans un univers mesquin o* l'argent fait la
          loi et r*gle les rapports. Il n'est ni pire ni meilleur
          que ses coll*gues. C'est un jeune loup avide de pouvoir.
          Sa vie personnelle est bas*e sur l'hypocrisie : il
          trompe sa femme et elle fait de m*me, mais tous les deux
          font comme si de rien n'*tait. Juliette Bonaventure fait
          le m*nage apr*s la fermeture des bureaux. Elle est
          noire, elle n'est plus tr*s jeune, elle a cinq enfants,
          de cinq maris diff*rents, qu'elle *l*ve seule dans un
          deux-pi*ces ˆ Saint-Denis. Leurs trajets sont
          absoluments parall*les pendant tout le d*but du film.
          Mais quelque chose est pourri chez Blanlait : il y a des
          all*es et venues bizarres la nuit, des chuchotements au
          t*l*phone. Juliette surprend des bribes de dialogues,
          ramasse des petits papiers qui tra”nent (apr*s tout,
          c'est son boulot) et finit par reconstituer la
          conspiration dans sa t*te: tout le monde trompe Romuald,
          tout le monde veut se d*barrasser de lui, ˆ commencer
          par sa femme et jusqu'ˆ ses subalternes. Et puis, un
          jour, (ou plut™t un soir), elle d*cide d'en souffler
          deux mots ˆ son patron. Lui commence par la prendre pour
          une folle puis, quand la situation devient vraiment
          coriace et qu'il est accus* de d*lit d'initi* (insider
          trading), c'est chez elle qu'il trouvera refuge, toutes
          les autres portes lui *tant ferm*es. Et lˆ, dans une HLM
          [habitation ˆ loyer mod*r*] de banlieue, Romuald, avec
          l'aide de Juliette, va pr*parer sa vengeance.

                   Le corps de Juliette est ainsi  introduit dans
          la vie de Romuald et dans le r*cit par l'entr*e de
          service. Pour occuper de plus en plus de place ; elle
          n'a rien d'une cr*ature de r*ve. Et pourtant elle va
          s'av*rer bien mieux que *a : c'est une force de la
          nature.  Firmine Richard s'impose dans le champ comme le
          nez au milieu du visage, sa carrure, son accent, ses
          coups de gueule, sa m*fiance face au monde et (pourquoi
          pas?) ˆ la cam*ra, sa tendresse font d'elle le premier
          extra-terrestre du cin*ma fran*ais. Face ˆ elle, Daniel
          Auteuil a la d*licatesse de rester un peu en retrait
          pour attendre le moment o* elle va se d*cider, enfin, ˆ
          l'apprivoiser. Et *a marche!  Ce qui devrait les r*unir
          n'est plus un coup de force de sc*nario, mais quelque
          chosee d' in*vitable.

                  Ce qui fait la force du syst*me Serreau, ce
          n'est pas tellement d'imposer aujourd'hui un couple
          improbable au sein du cin*ma fran*ais. Mais d'affirmer
          noir sur blanc sa croyance ˆ quelque chose qui va
          au-delˆ du "boy meets girl", quelque chose qui serait de
          l'ordre de l'utopie. Les cons*quences narratives de la
          rencontre d'un P-DG [Pr*sident- Directeur G*n*ral] et
          d'une femme de m*nage noire d*passent les limites de la
          formation d'un couple pour prendre l'ampleur du mythe,
          ce vieux mythe soixante-huitard revu et corrig* par SOS
          Racisme, o* tout le monde se retrouve dans une grande
          f*te d*di*e ˆ la fertilit*, tous sexes, toutes classes
          et toutes races confondus. © Iannis Katsahnias
          --------------------------------------------------------

          5.  Tatie Danielle (1990) - Etienne Chatiliez

                Meet the meanest old lady on earth. She Tatie
          Danielle, a demanding and manipulative woman who must be
          waited on hand and foot. When she moves in with her
          great nephew, he and his wife hope that Tatie will be
          the grand mother the children never had. It doesn't take
          long, however, for this cantankerous old lady to make
          everyone's life hell.

          ...ou en fran*ais:

              Tatie Danielle est une vieille dame acari‰tre qui
          martyrise sa bonne Odile dans sa trop grande maison
          remplie de souvenirs. Elle ne semble retrouver de la
          tendresse que lorsqu'elle s'adresse ˆ son mari d*funt et
          ˆ son chien, qui r*pond au nom de "Garde ˆ vous". Pour
          toute famille, Tatie Danielle a des neveux et ni*ces
          tr*s gentils, qu'elle m*ne par le bout du nez: Jeanne et
          son fr*re Jean-Pierre. Jeanne est c*libataire tandis que
          Jean-Pierre est mari* ˆ Catherine et est p*re de deux
          gar*ons. Tatie Danielle justement s'en va vivre aupr*s
          d'eux, leur rendant la vie insupportable: elle perd le
          petit gar*on de la famille, elle maltraite le chien,
          elle critique la cuisine et fait pipi au lit. Lorsqu'ils
          partent en vacances organis*es en Gr*ce, elle est gard*e
          par Sandrine. Lorsqu'elle est plac*e en maison de
          retraite, elle s'en *chappera pour aller la rejoindre.
          Tatie Danielle est parfois si affreuse avec ses neveux
          que c'en est jouissif!

          A film review by Ginette Vincendeau

          Auntie Danielle is an elderly widow living in the
          provincial town of Auxerre. She is mean and tyrannical
          towards her aged maid Odile, and she heartily dislikes
          her relatives (great-nephew Jean-Pierre Billard, his
          wife Catherine and their two sons, Jean-Christophe and
          Jean-Marie, as well as Jean-Pierre's sister Jeanne). She
          confides her thoughts aloud to a portrait of her
          deceased husband Edouard. When Odile dies from a fall
          for which Danielle is partly responsible, the latter
          goes to live with her family in Paris.

          The Billards' patience is sorely tried by life with
          Danielle, who hates the food they give her, is bored by
          the outings they organize, scoffs at gifts and wilfully
          loses their younger son in a park. The war of attrition
          escalates: Danielle makes herself sick on purpose and
          wets her nightgown in the presence of the Billards'
          dinner party guests. When the Billard family goes on
          holiday to Greece, a home help, Sandrine, is hired to
          look after the old woman. Danielle tries to bully
          Sandrine into submission, but soon discovers that her
          tactics do not work.

          Sandrine and Danielle strike up a friendship of sorts,
          though Danielle refuses Sandrine's request for a night
          off Sandrine goes out all the same and, out of spite,
          Danielle wrecks the apartment, smears herself with
          filth, eats dog food and sets the place on fire.
          Rescued, she becomes an overnight celebrity, while her
          relatives (still in Greece) are branded on TV and by the
          neighbours as uncaring monsters. After the scandal dies
          down, Danielle is sent to an old people’s home, where
          she tyrannizes other female inmates. One Sunday,
          however, she vanishes; she and Sandrine are discovered
          having a great time at a skiing resort.

          In the late 60s, Simone de Beauvoir wrote: "Old age is a
          problem on which all the failures of society converge.
          And this is why it is so carefully hidden." Times are
          changing, it seems, when a 1990 mainstream French comedy
          can tackle old age head-on via a cantankerous
          eighty-two-year-old heroine who behaves spectacularly
          badly, Tatie Danielle is the second feature by Etienne
          Chatiliez, the director of the hugely successful "La Vie
          est un long fleuve tranquille" (Life Is a Long Quiet
          River).  This is not the quaint and romantic France so
          beloved of the British: people eat frozen
          convenience-foods, watch American soaps dubbed into
          French, read Barbara Cartland, and go on holiday in a
          Club-Med-type village in Greece complete with
          "reconstructed Cretan chapel".

          Yet for French audiences, Tatie Danielle hits many
          familiar sore spots, such as the legendary meanness of
          the French provincial bourgeoisie and their obsession
          with inheritance, explored in literature since Balzac.
          The hypochondria of a medicine-obsessed,
          doctor-worshipping nation ("You know the doctor says no
          sugar") is touched on, as are racist habits like
          training dogs to attack black postmen. Most sensitive of
          all, the film tackles the issue of how an increasingly
          aging population is to be dealt with, given the
          vicissitudes of hectic urban life: in other words, what
          is to be done with inconvenient grannies (and dogs). The
          dog is disposed of in classic Parisian fashion by being
          left by the roadside. As for the granny, her destiny
          appears to be the old people’s home with its horror
          stories of emotional deprivation and out of control
          bodily functions.

          This bleak and unflattering picture is unusual in French
          comedies, which have by and large invoked the nostalgic
          and the cute rather than the grotesque (as in the work
          of Jacques Tati, for example, or recent films like
          "Trois hommes et un couffin" (Three Men and a Cradle)
          and "Romuald et Juliette". Etienne Chatiliez, however,
          touches on aspects of social reality most of us would
          rather not see on the screen, while still being
          extremely funny. This comedy - for instance, in the
          moment when Sandrine slaps Danielle, and in the scenes
          in the old people's home - has affinities with the
          post-68 vitriolic humour of cartoonists like Reiser, who
          drew memorably mean OAPs [Old-Age Pensioner] and
          alcoholic wrecks. And yet, in the end, cuteness
          resurfaces, in the fantasy ending, for instance, or in
          the occasional transformation of Danielle from vile
          'bitch' to the naughty girl who eats too many cream
          cakes and makes faces behind people's backs.

          More fundamentally, Chatiliez's decision to extend the
          film's derision to all the characters, leaving no
          positive point of identification - except possibly the
          working-class Sandrine - defuses the impact of his
          satire. It is also unfortunate that the mockery, often
          very precise and sociological, as with the Billards'
          petit-bourgeois tastes (their clothes, their passion for
          trendy cuisine, their language), has its reactionary
          side in, for instance, the treatment of the older son's
          homosexuality.

          Ultimately, the film cannot decide whether Danielle is
          an ungrateful virago, the bane of a well-meaning (if
          silly) family, or a subversive vieille dame indigne, an
          unruly older woman who flies in the face of convention.
          The ending, in which Danielle is rescued from the old
          people's home by Sandrine, seems to favour the latter
          interpretation, but the rest of the film does not really
          support this. There is little explanation offered as to
          why an old woman should behave in such a manner, even
          though this is a film scripted by a woman and almost
          entirely played out between women, in which men are
          either dead (Danielle's husband) or absent from the
          screen. Catherine is seen at work in her beauty parlour
          (where she specializes in hair removal), for example,
          but her husband is not. It is the women who discuss, and
          tackle, the problem of caring for the elderly.

          There are hints that sexual frustration, alluded to in
          the words of the song heard over the titles, the "Ballad
          of an Old Bitch"  and echoed in her passion for Barbara
          Cartland novels and TV soaps, may be one cause for
          Danielle's behaviour. In the old people's home near the
          end, the image of Danielle gazing out of the window for
          hours chimes with earlier shots of her peering from
          behind her curtains at the outside world, evoking a
          wasted life of appalling emotional isolation. Despite
          its upbeat ending, this dark quality casts enough of a
          shadow to make Tatie Danielle bitter rather than sweet.
          © Ginette Vincendeau

          Tatie Danielle [en traduction]

          Tatie Danielle est une veuve ‰g*e qui habite [= vivant]
          ˆ Auxerre (ville de province). Elle est m*chante et
          tyrannique envers sa vieille bonne Odile et elle d*teste
          [de tout son coeur] sa famille [*loign*e], (son
          petit-neveu Jean-Pierre Billard, sa femme et leurs deux
          fils, Jean-Christophe et Jean-Marie, ainsi que Jeanne,
          la soeur de Jean-Pierre). Elle confie tout haut (= ˆ
          haute voix) ses pens*es ˆ un portrait de son mari
          d*funt, Edouard.  Quand Odile meurt d'une chute pour
          laquelle Tatie Danielle est en partie responsable,
          celle-ci part habiter ˆ Paris avec sa famille.

          La patience des Billard est s*v*rement mise ˆ l'*preuve
          avec Danielle, qui d*teste la nourriture qu'ils lui
          servent, qui s'ennuie lors des sorties qu'ils organisent
          pour elle, qui se moque des cadeaux et qui perd
          d*lib*r*ment leur plus jeune fils dans un jardin public.
          La guerre d'attrition escalade: Danielle se rend malade
          expr*s et souille [mouille] sa chemise de nuit en
          pr*sence des invit*s ˆ diner des Billard. Quand la
          famille part en vacances en Gr*ce, une aide familiale,
          Sandrine, est embauch*e pour s'occuper de la vieille
          femme. Danielle essaie d'intimider Sandrine ˆ la
          soumission, mais elle d*couvre vite que sa tactique ne
          marche pas.

          Sandrine et Danielle se lient plus ou moins d'amiti*.
          Bien que Danielle refuse ˆ Sandrine sa demande d'[avoir]
          une nuit de cong*, celle-ci sort quand m*me et, par
          d*pit et malveillance, Danielle d*truit appartement, se
          couvre de salet*, mange de la nourriture ˆ chien et met
          le feu ˆ l'habitation. Sauv*e, elle devient du jour au
          lendemain, une c*l*brit*, alors que son neveu et sa
          ni*ce (toujours en Gr*ce) sont stigmatis*s ˆ la t*l* et
          par leurs voisins comme des monstres sans coeur. Apr*s
          que le scandale a diminu* / une fois que le scandale
          s'est apais*, Danielle est envoy*e dans une maison de
          retraite, o* elle tyrannise les autres femmes
          pensionnaires.  Un dimanche, cependant, elle dispara”t ;
          on les d*couvre, Sandrine et elle, s'amusant dans une
          station de ski.

          A la fin des ann*es soixante, Simone de Beauvoir
          *crivait: "La vieillesse est un probl*me vers lequel
          convergent tous les *checs de la soci*t*. Et c'est
          pourquoi ce probl*me est si soigneusement cach*."  Les
          temps sont en train de changer, semble-t-il, quand une
          com*die fran*aise grand public de 1990 peut aborder la
          vieillesse de plein front via [= par le biais d'] une
          vieille femme acari‰tre de 82 ans qui se conduit
          spectaculairement mal. Tatie Danielle est le second film
          d'Etienne Chatiliez, le directeur de "La Vie est un long
          fleuve tranquille", une com*die [qui a eu] un *norme
          succ*s. Ce film n'est pas [une description de] la
          vieille France romantique tant aim*e des Anglais: les
          gens mangent de la nourriture surgel*e [= du surgel*],
          regardent [ˆ la t*l*] des feuilletons am*ricains doubl*s
          en fran*ais, lisent [des romans de] Barbara Cartland, et
          vont en vacances dans un village de Gr*ce du genre
          Club-Med avec  "chapelle cr*toise reconstruite."

          Et cependant, pour un public fran*ais, Tatie Danielle
          fait mouche sur maints [de nombreux] points douloureux
          et familiers, telle que la m*chancet* l*gendaire de la
          bourgeoisie fran*aise de province et son obsession avec
          l'h*ritage, explor*e en litt*rature depuis Balzac.
          L'hypocondrie d'un pays obs*d* par la m*decine, offrant
          un culte aux m*decins ("vous savez, le docteur a dit pas
          de sucre"), est abord*e, de m*me que [certaines]
          habitudes racistes comme celle d'apprendre aux chiens ˆ
          attaquer les facteurs Noirs. Point le plus sensible de
          tous, le film aborde la question de comment agir face ˆ
          une population qui vieillissante *tant donn* les
          vicissitudes d’une vie urbaine trop agit*e: en d'autres
          termes, que doit-on faire des mamies (et les chiens)
          g*nants? La question du chien est r*solue ˆ la mani*re
          parisienne classique, en *tant laiss* au bord de la
          route. Quant ˆ la m*m*re, sa destin*e [= son sort]
          appara”t *tre celui de la maison de retraite [= des
          "petits vieux"] avec ses histoires d'horreur de manque
          affectif et de besoins corporels hors de contr™le.

          Cette image sombre et non flatteuse est inhabituelle
          dans les com*dies fran*aises, qui en r*gle g*n*rale font
          appel au nostalgique et au c™t* aimable et plaisant
          plut™t qu'au grotesque (comme dans les films de Jacques
          Tati), ou bien dans des films r*cents, tels que "Trois
          hommes et un couffin" et "Romuald et Juliette". Etienne
          Chatiliez, cependant, touche certains aspects de la
          r*alit* sociale que la plupart d'entre nous
          pr*f*reraient ne pas voir ˆ l'*cran,  tout en *tant
          extr*mement dr™le. Cette com*die, par exemple lorsque
          Sandrine donne une giffle ˆ Danielle, ou encore dans les
          sc*nes de la maison de retraite  - s'apparente ˆ
          l'humour vitriolique des ann*es d'apr*s 68 de
          caricaturistes tel que Reiser, qui a dessin* des images
          m*morables d'*paves alcooliques et de retrait*s
          ha•ssables. Et cependant, en conclusion, le c™t* comique
          et plaisant refait surface, par exemple dans la finale
          fantaisiste ou encore dans la transformation
          occasionnelle de Danielle, de garce inf‰me en vilaine
          petite fille, qui mange trop de choux ˆ la cr*me et qui
          fait des grimaces derri*re le dos des gens.

          Plus profond*ment, la d*cision de Chatiliez d'*tendre la
          moquerie du film ˆ tous ses personnages, ne laissant
          aucun point positif d'identification except*, peut-*tre,
          le personnage de Sandrine [et de sa classe-ouvri*re],
          diffuse l'impact de sa satire. Il est *galement dommage
          que la moquerie, souvent sociologique et tr*s pointue [=
          pr*cise], tels que les go*ts petits bourgeois des
          Billard (leur fa*on de s'habiller, leur raffolement de
          la cuisine ˆ la mode, leur fa*on de s'exprimer),
          contient  son c™t* r*actionnaire comme, par exemple,
          dans la fa*on dont est trait*e l'homosexualit* du fils
          a”n*.

          Finalement, le film est incapable de d*cider si Danielle
          est une m*g*re ingrate, la peste redout*e d'une famille
          bien intentionn*e (quoique [tourn*e en] ridicule), ou
          bien une vieille femme indigne et incontr™lable, qui
          lance un d*fi ˆ toute convention. La fin du film, o*
          nous voyons Sandrine venir ˆ la rescousse de Danielle
          dans la maison de retraite, semble favoriser la seconde
          interpr*tation, mais le reste ne supporte pas [cela]
          cette hypoth*se. Il y a peu d'explications qui nous sont
          offertes quant au pourquoi une vieille femme devrait se
          comporter ainsi [= agir d'une telle mani*re], m*me si
          c'est un film *crit par une femme et interpr*t* par des
          acteurs qui sont presque tous enti*rement des femmes,
          dans lequel les hommes sont soit morts (le mari de
          Danielle) soit absents de l'*cran. On voit Catherine au
          travail, par exemple, dans un salon de beaut* (o* elle
          se sp*cialise dans l'*pilation), mais on ne voit pas son
          mari. Ce sont les femmes qui discutent, et abordent
          [entre elles] le probl*me du soin [ˆ apporter] aux
          personnes ‰g*es.

          Il y a des traces qui pourraient sugg*rer que la
          frustation sexuelle, ˆ laquelle font allusion les mots
          de la chanson, la "Ballad of an Old Bitch",  entendue
          lors du d*roulement du titre et ˆ laquelle fait *cho sa
          passion pour les romans de Barbara Cortland et pour les
          feuilletons de t*l*vision, pourrait *tre une raison de
          la conduite de Danielle. Vers la fin du film, l'image de
          Danielle passant des heures ˆ regarder par la fen*tre de
          sa maison de retraite fait *cho ˆ une autre image [o* on
          la voit] regardant de derri*re ses rideaux le monde
          ext*rieur, sugg*rant une vie g‰ch*e et marqu*e d'un
          *pouvantable isolement affectif. Malgr* sa fin
          optimiste, ce c™t* sombre projette assez d' ombre pour
          faire de Tatie Danielle un film o* il y a plus d'*pines
          que de roses. [Ma traduction]
          --------------------------------------------------------

 6. La fille sur le pont - Girl On The Bridge. 1999 - A
          film by Patrice Leconte
          http://www.ParamountClassics.com/GirlOnTheBridge/

          "Rescued from Tragedy. Destined for passion.  92 min.
          B&W

          ÒShot in sumptuous black and white, replete with dizzy,
          swooping camera effects and gorgeous shots of Paris,
          Monaco, Athens and Istanbul, [the film] is like a pocket
          anthology of your favorite foreign movies ... a
          meticulous cut-and-paste collage of a half-dozen
          half-remembered, dreamed-up movies by Godard, Truffaut
          and, above all, Fellini.Ó A.O. Scott, The New York
          Times.

              Director Patrice Leconte introduces us to Vanessa
          Paradis at the very start, intercutting shots of her
          lively face between the main titles. It is an
          irresistible face: expressive, open, fine-boned, and
          carrying a gap-toothed smile - the flaw that renders the
          whole totally disarming. Paradis plays Adele, who
          believes that "making love is life," but hasn't yet
          learned the difference between making love and having
          sex. Adele suffers from low self esteem ("My ideas are
          always bad.") and has sex with almost any man who offers
          her attention. She is invariably disappointed and is
          discouraged to the point of leaping off of a bridge.
          Before she does, a stranger approaches, Gabor (Daniel
          Auteuil), who tries to talk her out of jumping. "Burned
          out women are my stock in trade," he tells her, "Trust
          me, I'll make you somebody who laughs and takes life
          with ease."

              Leconte tells the story of their love, framing it as
          a fable, exploring the nature of intimacy and passion.
          Gabor is a knife thrower and Adele becomes his target,
          restoring his fading career in the circuit of circuses,
          casinos, and cruise ships. The stakes grow higher as
          dangers are added to the act - Adele covered with a
          sheet, Adele spinning on a wheel, Gabor with eyes
          closed. And as the stakes grow higher, their passion
          becomes ever more intense; it is the intimacy of danger,
          vulnerability, and trust that charges the crackling
          electricity between them. They don't have sex (and
          Adele's eye keeps roving), but in performing their act
          they find a profoundly sensual connection; that intimacy
          is as sexual as if their bodies were connected as one.

              After each performance, Gabor gently bandages
          Ad*le's scratches - Leconte's metaphor for the wounds
          that intimacy inevitably brings, but wounds that are
          tended to by the caring lover, wounds that will heal.

              Leconte intertwines themes about luck with the
          exploration of intimacy. "Luck takes will power,
          effort," Gabor insists, and at another point, "You don't
          take it, you make it."  Easy for him to say, perhaps,
          because Gabor is clairvoyant and telepathic. Suspicious
          casinos have banned him from the tables, but now Adele
          acts as his surrogate. Together they prosper as they
          tour the European circuit. Gabor carries his tests of
          luck to dangerous extremes - he turns off the headlights
          of the car as they drive on a dark night. "Learn to lose
          or you'll take winning for granted," he cautions.

              In beautifully composed black and white, Leconte
          follows the fortunes of Adele and Gabor, each
          experience, each advance of the plot adding a twist or
          an insight into the connections between love and luck
          and destiny. Paradis is a marvel of natural charm, but
          it is the confluence of her performance and Auteuil's
          that is genuinely remarkable. In contrast with Paradis'
          charmingly transparent openness, Auteuil's Gabor is at
          first articulate, persuasive, but guarded. As events
          unfold, his vulnerability subtly emerges and the balance
          in the relationship becomes more complex.

              With serious themes that might have resulted in a
          ponderous scenario, Leconte bouys the proceedings,
          sustaining a tone of lightness. There is abundant wit
          and wry humor in the dialogue (screenplay by Serge
          Frydman). Even as Adele is poised to leap from the
          bridge, the music in the background is a cheery cha cha
          rhythm. Choices of music throughout are surprising and
          apt, in particular Marianne Faithfull singing "Who Will
          Take My Dreams Away?" as the knives fly and the passion
          ignites.

              While its Felliniesque touches inevitably evoke
          comparisons, Girl on the Bridge stands as a uniquely
          original and superbly accomplished work in its own
          right, surely one of the finest films released in the
          U.S. this year. - Arthur Lazere

          A Film Review by James Berardinelli

          It's ironic that a motion picture designed as
          mainstream, commercial entertainment in France will be
          viewed as an art house film during its American run. The
          movie in question is Patrice Leconte's The Girl On the
          Bridge, which made more than $20 million during its
          theatrical run in its native country (an astounding box
          office tally). However, because it is in black-and-white
          and has subtitles, the film has been acquired for U.S.
          distribution by Paramount's foreign and independent
          division, Paramount Classics, and will play primarily to
          upscale audiences who aren't intimidated by the
          experience of reading while watching a movie.

          The Girl On the Bridge follows standard romantic comedy
          guidelines with some interesting variations and rhythms.
          There are those who will immediately assume that because
          the film is French, it must contain deep philosophical
          musings, but that's not really the case. Leconte,
          working from a script by Serge Frydman, tickles the
          underbelly of things like fate and chance, but he never
          does much with these weighty issues. They are present as
          plot devices; this is not a deep exploration of the
          existential aspect of humanity's nature. Instead, it's a
          quirky love story that appeals more to the emotions than
          to the intellect.

          With the exception of a few supporting characters who
          make brief appearances, this is essentially a
          two-character movie. Adele (Vanessa Paradis) is a
          down-on-her-luck young woman who is convinced that she
          is afflicted with a Midas Touch in reverse. She's as
          unlucky in love as she is in life in general. A
          compulsive sex addict, she sleeps with almost any man
          she has eye contact with, but she falls in love easily
          and has had her heart broken on multiple occasions.
          Eventually, after deciding that things aren't going to
          get better, she walks out on a bridge crossing the Seine
          and prepares to jump. That's when she meets Gabor
          (Daniel Auteuil), who changes the course of her life.

          Gabor is a professional knife-thrower, and he offers
          Adele an alternative to suicide: become his assistant (a
          position which, he insists, might lead to the same end).
          She agrees, and the two begin a successful partnership.
          Of course, they fall in love, but neither admits it.
          Adele continues her trysts with attractive men, and,
          although she and Gabor never consummate their
          relationship, they develop a deep psychic bond (they can
          hold conversations over long distances) and their
          knife-throwing exhibitions mimic sex in every way
          possible (except that they're not touching). Best of
          all, when they're together, they have tremendously good
          luck. But, when their paths diverge, their fortunes
          begin a downward spiral.

          The Girl On the Bridge is undoubtedly an artistic
          endeavor, but it is in no way obscure. The central
          metaphor - that of knife-throwing standing in for sex -
          is so obvious that it's impossible to miss (if nothing
          else, Paradis' orgasmic moans give it away). From a
          visual standpoint, The Girl On the Bridge is beautifully
          composed. The black-and-white cinematography is
          stunning. Leconte cleverly intermixes a variety of
          camera techniques ranging from the hand-held approach of
          cinema verite to the crane and helicopter shots of big
          studio productions. There are a large number of
          close-ups, but their placement is carefully chosen. The
          camera loves Paradis, and it's an experience to see her
          face gazing down from the big screen (especially since
          the movie was made in wide-screen). And Auteuil's
          features express emotions that his voice and dialogue
          never betray.

          Of the two stars, the 40 year-old Auteuil is by far the
          better known performer. Next to G*rard Depardieu, he is
          arguably France's most recognizable leading man, having
          appeared in dozens of movies, many of which have
          received international distribution. His subtle,
          effective work in The Girl On the Bridge won him a Cesar
          Award for Best Actor (his fifth nomination and second
          victory). Paradis, on the other hand, is not an
          established thespian. Her fame - and she is known
          world-wide - comes primarily from her singing career.
          Acting is a new field, but she acquits herself
          admirably, and it doesn't hurt that she has the kind of
          natural charisma that can camouflage a host of minor
          flaws. Like her co-star, she received a Cesar nomination
          for her performance here; unlike him, she did not win.

          The director, Leconte, has an international reputation.
          He is best known for a trio of features: Monsieur Hire,
          The Hairdresser's Husband, and Ridicule. The Girl On the
          Bridge is different from all three, although its closest
          cousin is The Hairdresser's Husband. Both are romantic
          fables; however, there is considerably more heft and
          melodrama in the earlier movie. The Girl On the Bridge
          is lighter and more humorous. Upon its French release,
          Leconte was blasted by a number of French critics. His
          response, which disagreed with the assertion that a
          commercially successful motion picture could not have
          artistic merit, touched off the latest brouhaha in
          French cinema. As much as at any time in the past, the
          question of art vs. entertainment has become a source of
          fodder for French critics and pundits.

          If subtitles were not so feared in the United States,
          The Girl On the Bridge might become one of the summer's
          biggest hits - an unpretentious romantic comedy that
          revels in the exuberance of new love. However, because
          it is not in English, the movie will never reach a wide
          American audience. But, for those who aren't scared off
          by the thought of entertainment in a different language,
          a rewarding experience awaits. The Girl On the Bridge is
          an appealing diversion.

           ... et en fran*ais

          Le film est un hymne po*tique sur l'amour et la chance.
          Le site d'Ecran Noir est donc le reflet de ce beau film,
          en 7 parties, qui se suivent, sans l'espoir d'en sortir.
          Un site ferm*, en huis-clos, qui vous fera d*couvrir
          l'univers de deux *tres *tranges, attir*s par leur
          malchance, et qui atteindront une certaine magie
          ensemble. Un site qui d*file un peu comme on raconte une
          belle histoire...

          Sur Vanessa Paradis
          http://perso.club-internet.fr/vatzhol/fillepontparadis.html

          Pour une analyse en fran*ais:
          Ad*le n'existe que dans la relation ˆ l'autre et,
          caract*ristique assez fr*quente du  sous-type sexuel
          d*sint*gr*, elle confond intimit* et sexualit*Ê:

          Un extrait du script:

          Ad*leÊ: A l'*poque j'avais rencontr* quelqu'un. C'est
          pour *tre avec lui que j'ai arr*t* mesÉ Que je suis
          partie de chez moi.

          Voix offÊ: C'*tait un besoin de libert*Ê?

          Ad*leÊ:  Ben, de libert*, je sais pas. C'*tait surtout
          pour coucher avec lui, voyez, parce que quand j'*tais
          plus jeune, je me disais que la vie *a devait commencer
          le jour o* on fait l'amour et qu'avant *a, on est rien.
          Alors, le premier qui a eu envie de le faire, je suis
          partie avec lui pour qu'on soit que tous les deux et que
          ma vie commence.

          Cela l'am*nera apr*s ce premier homme ˆ encha”ner un
          psychologue, un anesth*siste, un patron de restaurant,
          ses clients, un juge, un militaire dans un train, un
          contorsionniste, un serveur de bar, un grec en
          croisi*re, etc. A chaque fois, le m*canisme est le
          m*meÊ: elle veut se sentir aim*e et surtout, elle a
          besoin que l'autre ait besoin de son amourÊ: "Il avait
          l'air d'*tre tellement amoureux que je l'aurai suivi ˆ
          l'autre bout du monde." Et ce besoin de l'autre n'a pas
          ˆ *tre exprim* avec forceÊ:

          GaborÊ: Qu'est-ce qu'il y aÊ? Il vous pla”tÊ? Si vous
          voulez faire connaissance, les chiottes sont sur votre
          droite.

          Ad*leÊ: Il me sourit. Je suis polie.

          GaborÊ: AhÊ! Mais j'ai bien peur qu'avec vous la
          politesse finisse toujours au fin fond d'un plumard.

          La sc*ne du train est int*ressante ˆ cet *gard. Elle
          fait l'amour dans les toilettes d'un wagon avec un
          militaire rencontr* au bar et elle s'explique ainsi ˆ
          GaborÊ: "J'avais besoinÉ J'avais envie que quelqu'un me
          prenne dans ses bras, j'avais besoin d'un petit peu de
          douceur et bon, je me suis peut-*tre un peu emball*e,
          j'ai pas r*fl*chi."

          En termes d'Enn*agramme, on admirera cette tentative
          d'exprimer un besoin, interrompue et transform*e en une
          envie. En fait, Ad*le sait bien que son d*sir n'*tait
          qu'un *cho de celui du militaire puisqu'elle pr*ciseÊ:
          "J'ai pas encore l'habitude de dire non."

          Plus l'autre est ou fait semblant d'*tre dans la
          souffrance, plus Ad*le r*agit vite. C'est pour cela
          qu'elle va suivre Gabor. Elle per*oit sa blessure
          *motionnelle et malgr* sa peur, elle le suit d*s qu'il
          lui dit "Faites-moi confiance, s'il vous pla”t." Et que
          peut-elle donner de plus que, potentiellement, sa vieÊ?
          C'est pourquoi elle assimile le lancer de couteaux ˆ
          l'acte d'amour.

          La compulsion d'Ad*le est de ne pas reconna”tre ses
          besoins, mais elle ne l'emp*che pas d'avoir des besoins
          et de vouloir qu'ils soient satisfaits. Ad*le quitte
          donc Gabor pour un passager grec du bateau de croisi*re
          sur lequel ils font leur num*ro. Le grec a le double
          avantage d'*tre d*pressif et de lui donner un minimum
          d'attentionÊ: "Il n'y en a jamais aucun qui m'a regard*
          comme lui. Il n'y en a jamais aucun qui m'a demand* si
          je pr*f*rais le c™t* droit ou gauche du lit, si j'avais
          froid, si j'avais chaud, si j'avais faim ou si j'avais
          soif."

          Trait*e ainsi par les hommes, Ad*le n'a pas eu une vie
          tr*s plaisanteÊ: "Vous savez le papier collant qui
          attire les mouches, en spiraleÊ? Ben, c'est moi crach*.
          Les histoires moches, il y en a pas une qui me passe ˆ
          c™t*. Faut croire qu'il y a des gens comme *a qui font
          aspirateur pour soulager un peu les autres. Je tombe
          jamais sur le bon num*ro. Tout ce que j'essaie, *a rate,
          tout ce que je touche, *a se transforme en vacherie. (É)
          Peut-*tre que j'ai jamais m*rit* mieux. (É) Tout ce
          qu'on m'a promis, j'y ai toujours cru." On admirera dans
          cette tirade comment elle transforme sa malchance en un
          moyen d'aider les autres!

          Pourtant, cette "poisse" ne la rend ni "heureuse, ni
          m*me vraiment malheureuse". Le long plan du d*but du
          film nous la montre racontant sa vie sans la
          dramatisation *motionnelle.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          7. Le Placard (The Closet).  2000 - A film of Francis
          Veber.

          FranceÕs finest leading men - Daniel Auteuil and G*rard
          Depardieu - join forces with the writer of the classic
          La Cage Aux Folles to create a brilliant comedy of
          errors. Fran*ois (Auteuil), is a dull middle manager in
          a condom factory whose life is thrown into turmoil when
          he finds out that heÕs about to be sacked. In a
          desperate attempt to save his job he is persuaded to
          pretend to be gay. Suddenly everyoneÕs seeing Fran*ois
          in an altogether different and interesting new light -
          much to the annoyance of F*lix, the homophobic head of
          personnel...

          Film Reviews

          The basic story, clear and simple is that of Fran*ois
          Pignon (the same name as the protagonist's in "The
          Dinner Game,") played by Daniel Auteuil. For 20 years he
          has worked as an accountant in a super-modern firm of
          rubber items, especially condoms. Francois has been a
          good employee but his personality is, to say the least,
          unremarkable. He blends in with the wallpaper, so to
          speak. And he is something of a sad sack these days
          because his wife had left him and their teen-age boy
          studiously avoids him. He finds that Dad is "chiant," a
          strong French word for "supremely dull."

          Unexpectedly, the firm decides to retrench -minimally
          that is--which means that just one employee will be let
          go. Fran*ois find out that he is that person.

          What with his gloom about his ex-wife and his son,
          Fran*ois goes to his apartment and contemplates suicide.
          A new, older neighbor comes to the rescue. This wise man
          thinks up a way to save Fran*ois's job: make the firm
          believe that Fran*ois is gay. Firing him would be
          politically incorrect, perhaps bring on a lawsuit,
          certainly create much bad publicity to the firm.

          How this is done is an utter delight, but I will not
          spoil it for my readers. Suffice it to state that there
          are laughs galore, that the acting is first-class, that
          Fran*ois never adopts any gay characteristics, that the
          technical aspects are excellent, the music first-rate
          and appropriate, and that there is, in the cast, the
          loveliest Scottish kitten you'll ever see. All the
          details are perfect and planned with energy as well as
          superior clarity throughout the delicious twists of
          characters and plot.

          The tempo is perfect. Everything moves fast, but not in
          a speeded-up way. The camera and the editing know when
          to mini-linger, when to cut away.

          Daniel Auteuil is a great performer. So is G*rard
          Depardieu. In a most un-Hollywoodian way, those
          superstars are not exactly pretty fellows-- to put it
          mildly. But then there is the unspoken, humanizing
          French tradition of often using leading as well as
          supporting actors who are not beauty kings -- call it
          the Michel Simon syndrome.

          Depardieu's role here is a supporting one, and that's
          the sign of real trouper. He plays the factory's most
          openly homophobic employee, a man hoisted on his own
          p*tard who ends up as a simpatico character.  More I
          cannot disclose. See for yourself.  ©  Edwin Jahiel

          Another Review

          What happens when you find yourself watching an
          ostensibly "gay movie" in which only one gay character
          appears, and in a secondary role? Does it still qualify?
          And what, exactly, constitutes a lesbian or gay film
          anyway? The answers to these questions are, of course,
          complicated and related to each other. These questions
          are further complicated by Francis Veber's new French
          bedroom farce, The Closet. The film demonstrates just
          how a movie may be directly concerned with questions of
          sexual minority rights and social enfranchisement,
          without being overtly "gay," in terms of featuring
          stereotypical characters, visual homoerotics,
          outraged/morose AIDS sentiment, a camp sensibility, or
          all the above.

          The Closet attests to the cultural and political
          advances made by sexual minorities in the recent past in
          being a gay movie almost entirely evacuated of gay
          characters. In fact, Veber is no stranger to "gay films"
          that are a bellwether of the changing place of sexual
          minorities in and in relation to
          "mainstream"/heterosexual communities. He wrote the
          original screen version of La Cage Aux Folles, as well
          as its U.S. version, directed by Mike Nichols, The
          Birdcage. Both of these films (despite embracing I would
          call some pretty terminal clich*s about gay folk) can be
          read as reflective and productive of both heterosexual
          perceptions of gayness as "lifestyle" and as community.
          And the same can be said for The Closet. You see, The
          Closet isn't so much (or at all, really) about queer
          people living queer lives in queer communities, but
          rather about some of the ways in which gayness functions
          as a social category. More to the point, the film is
          about how gayness is experienced, interpreted, and "made
          sense of" by non-gay individuals and communities. At the
          same time that gay individuals and cultures are
          disappeared from most of The Closet, the film recognizes
          that even if sexual minorities have become politically
          and legally enfranchised in most Western nations, overt
          homophobia, social intolerance, and physical violence
          against gays and lesbians continues to be a fact of
          daily life in these same countries.

          The pervasive threat of homophobia and violence
          experienced by many gay men and women every day suffuses
          The Closet and the new "gay" life of its hero. Fran*ois
          Pignon (Daniel Auteuil) is a staff accountant at a
          prophylactic factory. Sounds like the start of some sexy
          romp, no? Well, Pignon (as he is called by everyone in
          the film) is actually something of a bore. His wife left
          him two years prior, claiming he was a "drag" and taking
          their teenage son with her. He's been working the same
          job for twenty years, but times being what they are, the
          company is in the process of downsizing, and Pignon
          finds himself about to be jobless in addition to
          wife-less and family-less. As he considers throwing
          himself off his high-rise balcony, he's interrupted by
          his new neighbor, an older gent named Belone (Michel
          Aumont). After hearing of Pignon's woes, Belone devises
          a plan for him to at least keep his job: he's to start a
          rumor that he is gay and don't do anything to deny it,
          that way the company won't fire him for fear of a sexual
          discrimination lawsuit. To help him, Belone offers to
          digitize Pignon's face onto some photos of leather-boys
          in compromising positions he has handy, and to mail them
          to Pignon's boss anonymously.

          When Pignon protests that he isn't gay, Belone assures
          him that the fact is immaterial; all that matters is
          that other people believe he is gay. Pignon's enactment
          of "being gay" proceeds not as some flamboyant "flamer,"
          which would be, according to Belone, "vulgar in the
          extreme," but rather by behaving in the same manner as
          he always has, and letting his co-workers and family
          read him how they will in light of this new information.
          Belone is exactly right, and this is The Closet's most
          pointed insight. While identity is personal, it is also
          intersubjective; while it is a function of who/what we
          claim to be, it is also produced by external
          interpretation. This is not necessarily news. Anyone who
          is non-traditionally gendered -- whether gay, straight
          or otherwise sexually inclined -- can tell of the
          harassment, bullying, and violence they suffer at the
          hands of peers who perceive them to be "gay."

          Still, it's a revelation to Pignon, who experiences all
          this firsthand, perhaps most acutely when two macho
          co-workers, threatened by the presence of a presumably
          gay man in their midst, follow him home one evening and
          bash him in the parking garage of his apartment
          building. Belone's insight into how our own identities
          are experienced through other people's reactions and
          interpretations is exactly right. He is, after all, the
          film's single gay character and thus, I suppose more
          familiar with identity politics. And as an older man (in
          his early 60s would be my guess), he has presumably
          endured the social and political changes affecting
          sexual minorities over the latter half of the twentieth
          century. Indeed, when asked why he is being so helpful
          to Pignon, he replies that it is because, "thirty years
          ago, I was fired for the same thing that is going to
          save your job." Belone understands that today, being gay
          is no longer necessarily anathema to hetero-normative
          cultures. Of course, one of the film's blind spots is
          that this inclusiveness is really only for some gay men.
          It is questionable whether the "vulgar" flamer Belone
          speaks of, or an m-t-f trans individual might find the
          same congeniality among the managerial business culture
          of which Pignon is a part.

          Nonetheless, the effects of Pignon's "coming out" on
          this rather small and tight-knit business community are
          The Closet's primary concern, and provide its humor.
          Somewhat refreshingly, the film does not use gay
          characters acting like "flamers" for comic relief, but
          rather finds its humor in the spectacle of perplexed
          straight folk and how they relate personally to Pignon's
          "gayness." So, his Accounts Department co-worker Ariane
          (Armelle Deutsch) declares that she "always knew" he was
          gay, and that he is much more sexy and interesting now
          that he is out. His departmental boss, Mlle. Bertrand
          (Mich*le Laroque), while startled by the announcement,
          refuses to believe it and eventually becomes Pignon's
          love interest (hey, it's a romantic comedy, it's gotta
          have a love interest for our non-gay "gay" hero). The
          company CEO, Mr. Kopel (Jean Rochefort), initially
          flummoxed and homophobic, comes around to see that this
          turn of events can be an excellent marketing tool for a
          condom manufacturer, and commissions a float for the
          Paris Gay Pride Parade, atop of which he places Pignon.
          On seeing the parade on the news, Pignon's son Franck
          (Stanislas Creviller) experiences a renewed interest in
          his dad, whom he previously considered a dullard, to be
          avoided at all costs.

          The most complicated response to Pignon's "coming out"
          comes from his co-worker, F*lix Santini (G*rard
          Depardieu). Santini is the captain of the company rugby
          team and an all-around homophobe with no time for
          "sissy" men. When he is advised by some practical
          jokester co-workers that if his phobic rants against
          Pignon continue, he will get himself fired, Santini sets
          out to befriend Pignon and ends up courting him (he
          takes Pignon to a fancy restaurant and buys him a pretty
          pink cashmere sweater). Santini's relationship to Pignon
          becomes increasingly complex and it seems that through
          Pignon, he will be able to come to grips with his own
          homosexuality; at least until Pignon rejects his
          suggestion that they move in together. Following this
          rejection, Felix breaks down and ends up
          institutionalized.

          Though he recovers and returns to work, Santini's
          "crisis of identity" is never resolved. But this is a
          good thing. Santini's homophobia (and homophobia in
          general) cannot be so simplistically resolved as
          repressed homosexuality, just as homosexuality (or
          sexual identity in general) cannot be so simplistically
          defined as the gender to whom we are attracted.

          Ambiguously "gay" from beginning to end, The Closet
          challenges easy definitions of what constitutes gay and
          lesbian film, and yet nevertheless comes off (at least
          for me) as a decidedly "gay" film. More importantly, The
          Closet makes no claims to show what gayness "is," but
          rather how it functions socially and politically, how it
          is interpreted and understood by non-gay people, and how
          that function is not produced by a singular or
          individual act but through the subjective interactions
          of all of "our" communities.  - Todd R. Ramlow,Ê
          PopMatters Film Critic
          --------------------------------------------------------

          8.  Marius et Jeannette, 1997. A Film by Robert
          Guediguian
          Pour en savoir plus sur Marius et Jeannette

          Robert Guediguian's quietly spectacular, unlikely love
          story unfolds in Marseille, with the most striking
          moments taking place in close-ups that frame the faces
          of Marius, a guard at a condemned factory, and
          Jeannette, a volatile checkout woman with two children
          by two husbands, one who abandoned her, one killed by
          falling scaffolding. In the bleak Marseilles economy,
          where a lack of jobs and a profusion of immigrants have
          sown seeds of racism and xenophobia, it is all members
          of the struggling working class can do to steal small
          moments of happiness. Living literally on top of
          Jeannette, in an upstairs apartment, a staunch forty
          something Communist, Caroline, shells beans and reads
          the lefty tabloid "L'Humanit*"; Caroline's
          neighbor-erstwhile lover Justin reads "Le Monde
          Diplomatique," lecturing Jeannette's mulatto son Malek,
          who decides to observe Ramadan, on fundamentalism. This
          is a film of graceful moments, strung together,
          lingering long after the final credits: the hobbled
          Marius challenging Jeanette to a foot race along a dusty
          factory road, to a distant parasol; the pair breathing
          in the air under a clear blue Mediterranean sky after
          making love for the first time amid the cement factory's
          grassy ruins; Jeannette, Monique and Caroline buying
          Chinese silk underwear from Monsieur Ebrard, Jeanette's
          ex-boss at the supermarket, who fired her, then was
          fired himself after being caught stealing panties for
          his overweight wife--a woman so large, she wears through
          the crotch at an alarming rate, he tells the women, with
          all three doubled-over with laughter; Jeanette giving a
          blue-silk camisole set to her teenage daughter Magali,
          who says, "If I wore this out, I'd be pregnant by the
          time I got to the end of the street"; and concerned
          whispers, at half-time of a televised Marseille soccer
          match, when he stops--for his own tragic reasons--
          joining Jeannette, Malek and Magali for dinner. What
          saves these people, what makes this movie so
          exceptional, is the sense of humor, unbending even as
          hydraulic cranes smash down the cement factory. Caroline
          complains when she learns the papal villa at Avignon is
          going to be declared a national historic site. "Why not
          make a factory a historic site?" she demands.
          Guediguian's brilliant, funny, unsentimental "Marius and
          Jeannette" gives the workers of the world a memorable
          monument. --Sam JemielityÊ © NewCityNet Chicago,
          06-29-98
          Ê
          .. et en fran*ais:

          L'histoire: Le Monde... Marseille... Quartiers Nord...
          lÔEstaque.

          Synopsis:
          La vie d'un voisinage dans le quartier de l'Estaque ˆ
          Marseille, o* chacun apprend ˆ aimer l'autre, avec ses
          diff*rences et ses d*fauts. De crises de fou rire en
          engueulade vite oubli*e, comment reconstruire sa vie
          avec le poids des erreurs, et le souvenir des horreurs.

          A la gloire de nos m*res
          Le cin*ma r*serve quelquefois de bonnes surprises. Ce
          film - sans aucune pr*tention - la cr*e avec une sorte
          de syst*me D en apparence.
          Tout sent le copinage, la combine, les bouts de
          ficelles.....et pourtant la salle a ri, peut-*tre pleur*
          en silence, la salle a ovationn* l'*quipe. Le film ne
          poss*de aucune qualit* particuli*re au niveau technique.
          En cela c'est l'anti Luc Besson.

          L'histoire, en plus d'*tre agr*able, est joliment
          racont*e, et rejoint ainsi la narration du voisin
          d'Aubagne, Marcel Pagnol. m*me si le propos tient plus
          de Jean Renoir ou Ren* Clair.
          Les personnages sont tous attachants, et l'on ressent
          bien cette g*n*rosit*, cette chaleur, et ces coups de
          sang typiquement m*ridionaux. Les portraits sonnent
          justes, et gr‰ce en soit rendu au naturel des com*diens
          tous impeccables.

          Le film ne manque d'ailleurs ni d'accent, ni de voix. Le
          message, qui para”tra sans doute simpliste ˆ certains,
          voire communiste ˆ d'autres, n'en est pas moins efficace
          et direct. Avec ce film, c'est comme boire un verre de
          pastis frais sous les platanes.

          On y parle politique comme dans les bistros, de Le Pen ˆ
          Dieu, en passant par les camps de concentration et la
          futilit* du capitalisme. Pas de d*tail.

          La fille r*sumera m*me le probl*me social en une phrase
          :
          " C*zanne a peint des paysages et des quartiers o* les
          pauvres vivent. Mais les tableaux finissent sur les murs
          des riches."

          On parle de sentiments, de pr*carit* sociale, de
          bonheur......La fracture sociale fait place aux f*lures
          personnelles.

          Tr*s fid*le ˆ l'esprit marseillais, "Marius et Jeannette
          " scrute les disputes de quartier pour mieux parler de
          nos ennuis ˆ tous. Ici place ˆ l'int*gration sous toutes
          ses formes. Un v*ritable *loge ˆ l'amour, et
          sous-jascente une vitriolique critique du fascisme. Un
          vibrant playdoyer ˆ l'int*gration. Celle d'un quartier
          dans un pays, d'un homme dans une famille d*structur*e
          mais unie.

          Les femmes m*nent le combat de ces moments tr*s color*s,
          tandis que les hommes cuvent leurs faiblesses dans
          chacune des failles et des pi*ges qu'on leur tend.

          Banal film en apparence qui a la saveur d'un plat relev*
          ˆ l'ail.

          Marius et Jeannette sont au milieu de leur vie.

          Marius vit seul dans une immense cimenterie d*saffect*e
          qui domine le quartier. Il est le gardien de cette usine
          en d*molition.

          Jeannette *l*ve, seule, ses deux enfants avec un maigre
          salaire de caissi*re. Elle habite une minuscule maison
          ouverte sur une courette typique de lÔhabitat
          m*diterran*en. Ses voisins de cour, Caroline et Justin,
          Monique et D*d*, lÔencouragent avec force, *clats de
          rire et coups de gueule.
          La rencontre de Marius et de Jeannette ne sera pas
          simple car, outre les difficult*s inh*rentes ˆ leur
          situation sociale, ils sont bless*s par ... la vie.
          Le film d*crit la renaissance de leur capacit* ˆ *tre
          heureux. Cette romance populaire se terminera bien
          car... Il le faut.Ê ÇIl faut r*-enchanter le monde.È
          Robert Gu*diguian & Jean-Louis Milesi.

          Conte populaire de la vie quotidienne. Les personnages
          authentiques sont des touches de lumi*re qui viennent
          ensoleiller le quartier pauvre de l'Estaque. A travers
          des le*ons de choses sur la religion, l'amour ou m*me la
          recette de l'aioli, Robert Gu*diguian nous offre une
          tranche de vie. Nous ouvrant la porte d'une cour
          int*rieure o* des gens plein de vie partagent leur
          quotidien avec humour, sans pudeur, *voquant l'actualit*
          (les gr*ves, Le Pen...), mais aussi leurs sentiments.

          Le sc*nario -Ê Extraits :

          Note d'intention h‰tive :Ê Tout ce qui est petit *tant
          par d*finition joli, il s'agit d'*crire un petit conte
          contemporain.

          Marius et Jeannette ont quarante ans. Ils sont ouvriers
          et vivent ˆ l'Estaque, le quartier de Marseille connu
          gr‰ce aux impressionnistes (et aux films de Robert
          Gu*diguian). Outre les difficult*s li*es ˆ leur
          situation sociale (et le film en parlera abondamment),
          ils sont bless*s par... la vie. Ce conte ne va d*crire
          qu'une chose, la renaissance de leur capacit* ˆ *tre
          heureux.

          Le r*cit se structurera dans deux th*‰tres : une usine
          d*saffect*e, immense, qui domine la mer, et une courette
          typique de l'habitat traditionnel du Sud.

          Dans l'usine d*saffect*e, Marius vit seul. Dans la
          courette, Jeannette est "soutenue" par ses voisins, deux
          autres "couples". Ces deux autres couples nous
          permettront de parler de Castro, de Le Pen, de la
          d*portation, des gr*ves, du foot et aussi... du favisme
          (maladie mortelle li*e ˆ l'ingestion de f*ves fra”ches).

          Bien s*r, cette histoire se terminera bien car... il le
          faut.Ê Il faut r*-enchanter le monde.

          G*n*rique

          Port de Marseille. Un globe terrestre flotte sur l'eau
          et rentre au port sur la chanson :

          ÇIl pleut sur Marseille, le port rajeunit
          il pleut sur Marseille, Notre-Dame sourit
          il pleut, eh oui il pleut, le soleil se languit
          il pleut, beaucoup, un peu,
          ma ieu m'en fouti,
          ma ieu m'en fouti....Ê

          1. Cimenterie - Extrait

          Des engins d*molissent une usine, arrachent la ferraille
          comme on *tripe un lapin... Sous le regard de Marius, la
          quarantaine, en salopette rouge, un fusil ˆ lunette ˆ la
          main. C'est le vigile de cette ancienne cimenterie,
          long*e par une voie ferr*e. Au loin on aper*oit un bout
          de mer.

          Jeannette s'agrippe ˆ des tuyaux et escalade. C'est une
          femme de quarante ans, v*tue en jeans (pantalon et
          blouson). Elle s'approche d'un amoncellement de pots de
          peinture de vingt kilos, plus ou moins en train de
          rouiller. Elle en prend un dans chaque main....

          Jeannette : Putain, je me ruine le dos...

          Une voix : H* ! Lˆ-bas ! Arr*te-toi !

          Jeannette : Merde ! Y'manquait plus que *a. Un gardien !

          Ê
          Elle pose les pots et attend.

          Marius s'approche dans son dos, le fusil toujours ˆ la
          main, boitant de la jambe droite. Elle se retourne.
          Ê
          Jeannette : Ma maison va tomber en ruine si je mets pas
          une couche de blanc sur les murs, elle est ferm*e depuis
          six mois cette usine, tout le monde les a oubli*s ces
          malheureux pots de peinture. Si je les prends pas, ils
          vont pourrir sur place!... Tu pourrais me les donner?

          Marius : Mais elle est barjo. T'i'es barjo ou quoi ! Tu
          crois qu'ils sont ˆ moi ces pots de peinture? On me paye
          pour les garder . Donne-moi tes papiers.

          Jeannette : Mes papiers !

          Marius : Oui, tes papiers.

          Jeannette : Et en plus, tu vas me d*noncer aux flics !
          B*, garde tes pots et l‰che-moi, elle est pas ˆ toi
          cette usine, tu viens de le dire ! J'ai pas de sou pour
          la peinture. Je vais pas aller en t™le pour *a ! Je suis
          pas la fille de Jean Valjean, moi. Alors, je te rends
          tes pots et je me barre.

          Marius : Dis, arr*te un peu de parler et donne-moi tes
          papiers, je te dis.
          Ê
          Jeannette lui tend son portefeuille. Il lit les papiers.

          Ê
          Jeannette (ˆ voix basse) : Fasciste.

          Marius : Quoi ! Qu'est-ce que t'i'as dit!

          Jeannette (criant) : J'ai dit "fasciste"!  T'i'es un
          ouvrier comme moi, non ! Qu'est ce t'i'en as ˆ foutre de
          cette peinture, merde! Heureusement que je suis pas
          arabe, sinon tu m'aurais tir* dessus.

          Marius : Stop ! Tais-toi ! Prends tes papiers et
          va-t'en, hein!...

          Jeannette : Ben, c'est gent...

          Marius : Chut ! Chut! Tais-toi ! Va-t'en en silence...
          En silence.
          Ê
          Elle recule lentement.
          Ê
          Jeannette : Et la peinture?

          Marius : Allez, allez!

          Il la regarde s'*loigner.

          2. Supermarch* - Int*rieur - Jour

          Deux pots de peinture avancent sur le tapis roulant
          d'une caisse de supermarch*. Jeannette est bizarrement
          assise derri*re sa caisse. Elle est toute tordue sur son
          si*ge, et c'est en fait la seule position qui lui permet
          de rester assise sans avoir mal au dos. Elle tire les
          pots de peinture pour les faire passer devant le rayon
          lumineux qui lit le code-barre... Un chef, Monsieur
          ƒbrard, passe dans son dos et lui ditÊ:

          Monsieur ƒbrard : H*! lÔestropi*e!

          Jeannette se retourne.

          Jeannette : C'est ˆ moi que vous parlez, Monsieur ƒbrard
          ?

          Monsieur ƒbrard : Tenez-vous droite, Jeannette.

          Jeannette : J'y arrive pas. Quand je me tiens droite,
          j'ai mal.

          Monsieur Ebrard : ‚a va, *a va, vous ralentissez la
          caisse.

          Jeannette (se mettant droite): Aucun client ne s'est
          plaint. Y'a que vous, h*!  (Monsieur ƒbrard s'*loigne.)
          Ê
          Jeannette (pour elle-m*me) : Tortionnaire!
          Ê
          Caissi*re : Jeannette, si tu continues comme *a tu vas
          te faire virer, fais gaffe.

          Jeannette : Et qu'ils me virent ! Je les emmerde ! J'ai
          toujours fait mon boulot, y'a jamais eu une plainte
          contre moi ! Si y me virent c'est pas parce que je me
          tiens de traviole, c'est parce qu'y supportent pas que
          je ferme pas ma gueuleÊ! Et moi je les emmerde tous ! Si
          je ferme ma gueule, en plus du mal au dos j'aurai
          l'ulc*re. Et je gagne pas assez pour me payer des
          maladies de riches...

          3. Chez Jeannette - Int*rieur - Cr*puscule

          Un panoramique nous r*v*le l'endroit o* vit Jeannette :
          un ensemble de maisons basses dans un vieux quartier de
          l'Estaque. Jeannette habite dans une de ces maisons,
          divis*es en appartement, donnant sur une courette
          int*rieure tout en longueur.

          Assise sur le pas de sa porte, Jeannette reprise des
          chaussettes. Le jour d*cline.

          Dans son dos, sa fille Magali, dix-neuf, vingt ans, de
          type europ*en, essuie la vaisselle.

          Assis ˆ table, son fils Malek fait ses devoirs. Il a
          dix, onze ans, de type arabe. C'est que son p*re *tait
          d'origine arabe.

          Jeannette : Qu'est -ce que tu vas devenir ? T'y
          arriveras jamais. Ton p*re, il *tait fort. Mais toi avec
          ta mauvaise sant*... tu pourras jamais travailler sur un
          chantier.

          Malek : M'am, j'ai eu quatorze...

          Jeannette : Et la derni*re fois, t'i'as eu dix-huit !
          Quatre points en moins, *a compte, non ? Tu vas
          redoubler.

          Malek : Mais non, on passe avec dix.

          Jeannette : Tu t'en sortiras pas si t'i'as pas un bon
          m*tier, t'i'es trop faible.

          Magali (muette jusqu'alors) : Maman a raison.

          Jeannette : Tous les sacrifices que je fais pour lui. Je
          vais jamais au coiffeur, je travaille jour et nuit ! Et
          voilˆ ! R*sultat quatorze.

          Malek : M'am, je suis troisi*me de la classe. Arr*te,
          maintenant.

          Magali : Tais-toi ! Tu vas pas engueuler ta m*re, non !
          Va te coucher ! Allez, va te coucher!

          Jeannette : Mais il a pas mang*!

          Magali : Qui dort d”ne.

          Jeannette : Tu veux qu'il soit malade ! Faut qu'il
          mange.

          Jeannette range sa couture et ferme la porte.

          Entrevue avec Robert Gu*diguian ˆ propos de Marius et
          Jeannette.

          Comment d*finiriez-vous votre film?
          CÔest une histoire dÔamour. Pas Sissi et lÔArchiduc.
          JÔai beau mÔ*vanouir devant Romy Schneider, les
          histoires dÔamour chez les riches, je nÔy crois pas. Ce
          sont des histoires de domaine, dÔalliance, dÔargent...
          De pouvoir.

          Non, une histoire dÔamour chez les pauvres, lˆ o* il nÔy
          a vraiment aucun int*r*t en jeu dans le fait de vivre
          ensemble... YÔaurait plut™t des soucis suppl*mentaires.
          Ê
          Pourquoi un conteÊ?
          Parce - que ce nÔest pas vrai. Que tout se passe aussi
          bien et aussi simplement que cela, cÔest faux. La vie
          nÔest pas comme cela. Et croyez-moi, jÔen suis conscient
          (sourire). CÔest donc une proposition, une envie de
          lumi*re, dÔair frais, de bonheur, malgr* tout, possible.

          La com*die, le burlesque, le m*lodrame, bref les
          "contaminations stylistiques" sont lˆ pour produire un
          enchantement, pour g*n*rer de la vitalit*.

          "LÔargent fait le bonheur" *tait d*jˆ signal* comme un
          conte.
          CÔest vrai. Ce sont des films vifs, rapides,
          dÔintervention, de circonstances, qui, selon moi,
          doivent faire rigoler, pleurer et r*fl*chir. Des films
          de galopins, espi*gles... Cela me fait penser ˆ du
          th*‰tre berlinois, dÔAgit-Prop.
          Ê
          A propos du th*‰tre, la cour ressemble *trangement ˆ une
          sc*ne de th*‰tre.
          Absolument. Les voisins de Jeannette constituent le
          choeur antique. Ce qui me permet dÔintervenir dans le
          d*bat crucial de la recette de lÔa•oli (1), de faire de
          la publicit* pour ?ÊlÔHumanit*ÊÒ (qui va mal) et pour
          ?ÊLe Monde DiplomatiqueÊÒ (qui va bien), dÔinsister sur
          le fait que voter Le Pen ne serait-ce quÔune fois est
          une fois de trop, que les grandes religions monoth*istes
          ont une origine commune... Bref, de situer dans son
          contexte actuel cette histoire dÔamour.
          Ê
          Vous ne trouvez pas que sur tous ces th*mes, vous *tes
          un peu ... h‰tif?
          Pire, je dis des *vidences. Des choses compr*hensibles,
          quoique non comprises. Pour qui je fais des filmsÊ? Pour
          vous qui en savez long sur les risques de lÔint*grisme
          religieux, par exemple, ou pour des gens pour qui ce
          nÔest pas encore *videntÊ?

          JusquÔo* doit-on *tre subtil? NÔy a t Ôil pas des choses
          quÔil faut sans cesse r*affirmer sous des formes sans
          cesse renouvel*es? LÔart nÔa tÔil pas une fonction
          p*dagogique, politique, sociale...
          Cela pose quelques questions qui, je crois, nÔont pas de
          r*ponses d*finitives. Selon les moments de lÔhistoire du
          cin*ma, mais aussi de lÔHistoire tout court, les
          artistes r*pondent dÔune mani*re ou dÔune autre. Ici et
          maintenant cÔest ma mani*re de r*pondre.
          Ê
          Que signifie pour vous le ballon repr*sentant la terre
          qui arrive ˆ lÔEstaque?
          Cela signifie que toutes les histoires du monde peuvent
          se raconter nÔimporte o*... Cela signifie aussi que tout
          individu porte en lui tous les r*ves du monde... Cela
          signifie aussi que lÔinfiniment petit est infiniment
          grand...

          (1) LÔail est une plante qui prouve que les classes
          existent encore, au moins au niveau du go*t.

          Robert Gu*diguian et Marseille

          ÊÇJÔaime Brecht, Capra, Pasolini et Ken Loach pour ne
          citer quÔeux. Je ne travaille quÔavec des amis qui
          partagent mon point de vue. Cela me permet de perp*tuer
          ma tribu originelle. Comme tous les pauvres, la solitude
          me tuerait. Marseille est mon langage (lumi*res et
          couleurs, architectures et costumes, mer et collines,
          corps et gestes...). LÔart que jÔaime le plus est
          ench‰ss* dans la r*alit*. Voilˆ pourquoi je ne tourne
          quÔˆ Marseille.È

          Marseille, source d'inspiration ?

          Voilˆ une question qui me laisse muet. Ce sont les
          "non-Marseillais" qui, peut-*tre, pourraient apporter
          des *l*ments de r*ponse. Certains l'ont fait de Flaubert
          ˆ Cendars, en passant par Walter Benjamin et Albert
          Londres...

          Je suis n* ˆ Marseille. Cette cit* ne m'inspire pas ;
          elle me fonde. Comme tous les Marseillais, mes origines
          sont m*l*es : mon p*re est arm*nien, ma m*re est
          allemande. Mais comme tous les Marseillais, aussi, mes
          origines me pr*occupent peu.

          Lorsque je me demande qui je suis, je r*ponds : je suis
          un fils d'ouvrier n* ˆ l'Estaque dans les quartiers Nord
          de Marseille en 1953 (le quartier passe toujours en
          premier dans cette ville). Voilˆ mon identit*, ma
          culture et ma morale. Et ma langue.

          Si l'on veut bien admettre qu'en cin*ma comme en
          litt*rature, l'artiste travaille avec une langue qui lui
          est impos*e parce qu'il ne l'a pas choisie et parce
          qu'elle l'a constitu*, je dirai que Marseille est ma
          langue. Par exemple, si l'on me demandait d'*crire un
          court m*trage dans lequel un vieux monsieur explique ˆ
          un gamin sa passion pour la p*che, ce vieux porterait un
          bleu de chauffe repass* avec virtuosit* et le gamin
          serait v*tu de son seul maillot de bain. L'enfant aux
          pieds nus serait kabyle, le vieux serait un ancien
          docker italien. Il enseignerait la p*che au sard et sous
          un soleil de plomb, il pousserait sa chaise ˆ l'ombre
          d'un figuier sorti furieusement d'une roche blanche et
          s*che. Loin sur la mer, un p*trolier semblerait d*sol*.
          Enfin, bref, pas de pantalons de velours, de bottes en
          caoutchouc, de brochets, de peupliers, de prairies, ou
          m*me d'usines de p‰te ˆ papier. (Cette comparaison entre
          litt*rature et cin*ma n'a aucune valeur th*orique (les
          linguistes veuillent me pardonner) mais c'est un moyen
          commode d'illustrer mon sentiment.

          J'ajoute ˆ cela que toute histoire peut s'incarner
          n'importe o*. C'est ce "n'importe o*" qui lui donnera
          son caract*re unique. C'est probablement, et pour
          l'essentiel, de lˆ que viennent les diff*rences entre
          les oeuvres et je pense qu'il faut r*solument pr*server
          ces diff*rences face ˆ la pr*tention totalitaire des
          industries audiovisuelles de programme. Ce mot lui-m*me
          fait fr*mir . Un dernier motÊ: Jean Genet disait :
          "Ecrire, c'est trahir." Avec tout le respect que je lui
          dois, pour ma part, je voudrais *crire pour *tre fid*le.

          --------------------------------------------------------

          9.  Western
          Pour en savoir plus sur Western

          ÊWestern on the Web:
          http://www.france.diplomatie.fr/culture/france/cinema/fictions/100films/fr/087.html

          Winner of the 1997 Grand Jury Prize at Cannes, this
          subtle, comic road film follows a traveling shoe
          salesman and a Russian immigrant as they meet, fight and
          eventually become friends while traveling along the
          western coast of France. "Using every inch of his wide
          screen, Poirier creates a breathtaking series of
          wide-open spaces, images of a Europe without borders
          that has room for everyone. It's a vision as seductive
          as it is willfully naive..." (Dave Kehr, New York Daily
          News).

          Synopsis
          From under the most unlikely of circumstances, a
          bumbling drifter and a chick magnet from Spain pair for
          one of the most refreshing roadmovies to hit the screen
          in a long time

          - ou, si vous pr*f*rez:   Quand Paco le grand Catalan
          rencontre Nino le petit Russe dans un Grand Ouest r*duit
          aux dimensions d'un canton du Finist*re... L'un pla”t ˆ
          toutes les femmes, l'autre aimerait plaire ˆ une femme.
          Ils marchent et r*vent ˆ haute voie sur les routes
          secondaires, et flirtent avec l'utopie d'un phalanst*re
          plein d'enfants.

          While down on his luck, a travelling shoe salesman from
          Spain (Catalonia, more precisely) - Paco - happens upon
          a beautiful maiden - Marinette - with a heart of gold.
          Although this chance encounter with the lovely Marinette
          promises a new beginning for Paco, the two young lovers
          agree to test the fate of their affair with a trial
          separation. His life again turned upside down, Paco
          befriendsÊ broken hearted drifter named Nino and is
          persuaded to spend his time away from Marinette on a
          road trip through Western FranceÊÊ (namely Brittany's
          Finist*re) . During a three-week journey that never
          breaks ten miles, the unlikely duo's quirky escapades
          and hilarious misadventures form the bond of a warm and
          touching friendship that will ultimately determine the
          fate of Paco's love for Marinette and Nino's life on the
          road.

          En fran*ais

              J'ai envie de revendiquer l'utopie comme un *l*ment
          n*cessaire ˆ la r*alit*, tout comme le r*ve qui ne se
          d*finit qu'en rapport ˆ elle.
          = I want to claim utopia as a necessary element of
          reality, the same as dreams are only defined in relation
          to reality itself. (Manuel Poirier, L'Humanit*, 27 ao*t
          1997)

          Deux hommes parcourent la Bretagne (ˆ l'ouest de la
          France) ; deux *trangers solitaires qui vont devenir
          solidaires. Un Espagnol tr*s Don Juan. Et un Russe qui
          aimerait plaire ˆ une femme. Road movie contemporain
          narrant l'aventure d'une amiti*, et des rencontres. Des
          portraits de femmes, et en cin*mascope une Bretagne
          rurale "bout-du-mondesque".

          Paco - Il y a forc*ment une femme pour toi...Une femme
          amoureuse de toi, mais qui ne le sait pas encore. Je
          suis s*r que dans chaque ville de France il y a une
          femme qui tomberait amoureuse de toi en te connaissant.
          Quand je dis une femme c'est au minimum, alors quand tu
          comptes le nombre de villes qu'il y a en France, *a fait
          un potentiel *norme!\

              Si Western est un film d'homme sur deux hommes,
          c'est aussi un incroyable film aveu en faveur des
          femmes, dont le cin*aste peint, l'une apr*s l'autre,
          toute une galerie, dans le moindre d*tail de leur fa*on
          d'envisager, pour chacune, leur rapport aux hommes.  =
          If Western is a man's movie about two men, it's also an
          extraordinary testimony in favor of women, of whom the
          filmmaker portraits, one after the other, an entire
          gallery, on how each one of them conceives of her
          relationship toward men. - Olivier S*guret, Lib*ration,
          27 ao*t 1997

          Reviews by three veteran film critics.

          "Two for the Road in Utopian France"

              What a tenderhearted delight is Western,Êthe
          best-kept secret in town. Don't be put off by that
          misleading title: Manuel Poirier's road movie is
          actually set in western France, where two funny and
          hapless outsiders wind up joining forces and embarking
          on a wonderfully droll journey. The story begins when a
          salesman from Spain is outsmarted by a wily little
          Russian hitchhiker. It's an introduction that hardly has
          the makings of a beautiful friendship. But that's
          exactly what develops in a funny, romantic film filled
          with cozy intimacies and lovely, wide-screen images of
          the French countryside.

              The title of Manuel Poirier's warm and glowing
          Western has nothing to do with the American frontier but
          refers instead to the ruggedly beautiful west coast of
          Brittany. What's more, the terrain it covers is not
          geographic but that of the human heart. Winner of the
          grand prize at Cannes last year, among other key awards,
          "Western" is a delightfully subtle and perceptive blend
          of romantic comedy and road movie. Paco (Sergi Lopez), a
          shoe salesman born in Catalonia, is driving toward the
          port town of Le Guilvenec when he stops to give a pretty
          hitchhiker a lift -- only to have her replace herself
          swiftly with a slight, wistful-looking man, Nino (Sacha
          Bourdo), who she explains has been trying to thumb a
          ride for more than two hours.

              In short order, Paco has his life turned upside
          down.  Nino gets Paco to make a stop -- and drives off
          with his car, which is loaded with shoes. Paco is
          sitting by the road in a daze when Marinette (Elisabeth
          Vitali) stops to fix a loose license plate, and he
          shamefacedly asks her for a ride into town. Paco loses
          his job but commences an affair with the lovely
          Marinette. But no sooner has an idyll begun for Paco
          than Marinette insists that they take a three-week
          breather from their relationship to discover how
          seriously they feel about each other. Meanwhile, Paco
          has spotted Nino, and after a couple of plot twists, the
          two end up friends. Nino, a Russian *migr*, persuades
          Paco to hit the road with him during that three-week
          break.

              So sure is Poirier's sense of humor and pathos that
          all this elaborate but swiftly unfolding plotting
          becomes an amusing comment on the workings of fate and
          human nature. The film shifts gears as it covers Paco
          and Nino's aimless rambling over the countryside. Nino,
          it turns out, has been drifting in this manner for two
          years, since a Frenchwoman - whom he met in Russia and
          came to France to marry - stood him up.

              Although they instinctively seek contact with as
          many people as they can, what Paco and Nino are really
          looking for is love. The need for people, men in this
          instance, to find someone to love in order to anchor
          their lives, is what "Western" is all about.

              That both men are foreigners inherently heightens
          their sense of isolation. Yet "Western" doesn't attack
          the French - or Bretons in particular -- for being
          insular. To the contrary, most everyone the two meet is
          friendly and helpful. The dark, stocky, boyish-looking
          Lopez and the diminutive Bourdo are immensely likable
          guys, and their adventures are matters of both humor and
          pain.

              American audiences, so conditioned to a fast clip,
          may find the film's leisurely paced 123 minutes taxing.
          But so consistently fresh is Poirier's take that it's
          worth it to sit back and go with the flow.  - Kevin
          Thomas - Los Angeles Times.

          Western is a road movie about a friendship between two
          men, and their search for the love of the right woman.
          The roads they travel are in western France, in the
          district of Brittany, which looks rough and dour but, on
          the evidence of this film, has the kindest and most
          accommodating women in the world.

              The Meet Cute between the men occurs when Paco, a
          shoe salesman from Spain, gives a lift to Nino, a
          Russian who lived in Italy before moving to France. Nino
          tricks Paco and steals his car, and when the stranded
          Paco sees him on the street the next day, he chases him
          and beats him so badly Nino lands in the hospital. Paco
          visits him there, says he is sorry to have hit him so
          hard, and the men become friends. Since Paco has lost
          his job along with his car, they hit the road.

              Road movies are the oldest genre known to man, and
          the most flexible, since anything can happen on the road
          and there's always a fresh supply of characters. Paco,
          who has always been a ladies' man, in fact has already
          found a woman: Marinette (Elisabeth Vitali), who
          befriended him after his car was stolen and even let him
          sleep overnight on her sofa-bed. Soon they've kissed and
          think they may be in love, but Marinette wants a 30-day
          cooling-off period, so the two men hitch around
          Brittany, depending on the kindness of strangers.

              If Paco has always had luck with women, Nino has had
          none. He's a short, unprepossessing man with a defeatist
          attitude, and one day Paco stands next to him at the
          roadside, points to a nearby village, and says,  ''I'm
          sure that in that town, there has to be a woman for
          you.'' Really?''  ''Yes, there is a minimum of one woman
          in every town in France for you.''

              This belief leads them to conduct a phony
          door-to-door survey as a ruse for finding the right
          woman for Nino, and along the way they make a new
          friend, Baptiste (Basile Sieouka), an African from
          S*n*gal, in a wheelchair. He teaches them the bonjour
          game, in which they get points every time a stranger
          returns their greeting. ``Go back where you came from!''
          one man snarls at Baptiste, who laughs uproariously; all
          three are strangers in a foreign land.

              The emotional center of the story comes when Paco
          meets a woman named Nathalie (Marie Matheron), who
          invites them home for dinner, likes the way Nino cooks
          chicken, and unexpectedly goes for Nino rather than
          Paco. This woman's lifestyle seems unlikely (she is a
          male daydream of an earth mother), but she provides the
          excuse for the film's ending -- which is intended as
          joyous, but seemed too pat and complacent to me.

              Western, directed and co-written by Manuel Poirier,
          won the grand jury prize, or second place, at the 1997
          Cannes Film Festival; that's the same prize ''Life Is
          Beautiful'' won in 1998. I think that's because it was
          set in France, and so absorbed a certain offhand flair.
          The same material, filmed in America, might seem thin
          and contrived; the adventures are arbitrary, the
          cuteness of the men grows wearing, and when Nino has an
          accident with a chainsaw, we can see contrivance shading
          off into desperation.

              The movie is slow-going. Paco and Nino are the kinds
          of open-faced proletarian heroes found more often in
          fables than in life. Their luck as homeless men in
          finding a ready supply of trusting and hospitable women
          is uncanny, even unbelievable. The movie insists on
          their charm, instead of letting us find it for
          ourselves. And although the leading actresses are sunny
          and vital, they are fantasy women, not real ones (who
          would be smarter and warier).

              One of the women in the film collects children
          fathered by an assortment of men, who capture her fancy
          and then drift away, apparently with her blessings. The
          movie smiles on this practice, instead of wondering how
          she found so many men so indifferent to their own
          children. By the end of the film she has given birth to
          her own orphanage and could hire the family out as a
          package to the casting director for ''Oliver Twist.''
          The jury at Cannes loved this, but I squirmed, and
          speculated that the subtitles and the European cachet
          gives the film immunity. In English, with American
          actors, this story would be unbearable. - Roger Ebert -
          © Chicago Sun-Time.
          --------------------------------------------------------
 10. La Promesse, A film byÊ Jean-Pierre and Luc
          Dardenne, 1996

          Synopse du film

          Igor travaille comme apprenti dans un garage mais il
          aide surtout son p*re qui h*berge des *trangers
          clandestins. Son p*re les exploite et les fait
          travailler au noir. Il les loge dans des taudis et leur
          fait payer des sommes incroyables.Ê Igor aide mais
          n'approuve pas son p*re. Il n'est d'ailleurs pas ˆ sa
          place dans ce milieu car il n'a que 14 ans. Un jour,
          l'un des ouvriers clandestins, Amidou, d*gringole de
          l'*chaffaudage et se tue.Ê Mais avant de mourir il a
          fait promettre ˆ Igor de s'occuper de sa femme et de son
          enfant. Roger, le p*re d'Igor, n'est pas au courantÊ de
          cette promesse et dissimule le corps d'Amidou pour ne
          pas avoir de probl*me. Il fait ensuite croire ˆ la femme
          d'Amidou que ce dernier est parti pour fuir des dettes.
          Roger se rend compte qu'Igor veille sur Assita et lui
          interdit de l'approcher. Un jour pourtant, Igor tient sa
          promesse et d*fie son p*re.

          La Promesse ou lÕ*veil d'une conscience

          Extrait de France-Am*rique:

          La Promesse, un film de Luc et Jean-Pierre Dardenne,
          relate l'initiation ˆ la conscience morale d'un garcon
          de quinze ans qui exploite, avec son p*re, un r*seau de
          main-d'oeuvre immigr*e clandestine.

          La Promesse, qui a *t* tourn* en Belgique en 1996 et
          coproduit par ce pays avec la France, le Luxembourg et
          la Tunisie, est le troisi*me long m*trage de fiction de
          deux cin*astes form*s ˆ la riche *cole du
          documentaireÑ*colede probit* - en cela que le genre m*me
          qu'elle illustre oblige ceux qui la pratiquent ˆ se
          poser quelques questions fondamentales vis-ˆ-vis de leur
          sujet, particulierement si celui-ci.touche ˆ l'humain ou
          ˆ des probl*mes de soci*t*.

          C'est pr*cis*ment ce qui se passe avec La Promesse,Ê qui
          retrace, selon les propres termes de ses auteurs,
          Òl'initiation ˆ la conscience morale d'un gar*on de
          quinze ans, exploitant avec son p*re un r*seau de
          main-d'oeuvre immigr*e clandestine.Ó

          Le probl*me social qu'aborde le film est
          particuli*rement aigu dans l'Europe des Quinze, mirage
          du Nord pour un Sud en manque end*mique de travail
          r*mun*rateur ; mais il peut tr*s ais*ment *tre transpos*
          sous nos latitudes sans que son acuit* et les
          prolongements moraux qu'il induit en perdent le moins du
          monde de leur actualit* et de leur int*r*t.

          Montrer la vie au plus juste

          Le jeune h*ros de La Promesse, Igor, confront* pour la
          premi*re fois de sa vie ˆ un probl*me de justice
          *l*mentaire et de conscience individuelle par un pur
          encha”nement de circonstances (son p*re qui vit du
          commerce douteux du travail clandestin n'est pas
          directement la cause de la trag*die qui va bouleverser
          leur vie), va d*couvrir en lui-m*me sous nos yeux les
          enseignements fondamentaux de cette conscience morale
          qui est comme la charpente de toute vie humaine digne de
          ce nom.

          La promesse qu'il a faite ˆ un mourant, un immigr*
          africain clandestin tomb* d'un *chafaudage, il l'a
          faite.sans avoir le temps d'y penser ou d'en mesurer les
          cons*quences sur la vie de l'adolescent tr*s ordinaire ˆ
          partir d'une peinture sans joliesse comme sans s*v*rit*
          inutile de faits tr*s ordinaires, d'assister ˆ
          l'*closion de cette consciece. Et le sentiment que cette
          *closion provoque chez le spectacteur est un sentiment
          tr*s rare de jubilation int*rieure, comme un don fait ˆ
          notre intelligence par deux cin*astes en prise directe
          avec leur temps.

          Pl*nitude du film et impression de v*rit*

          Que Luc et Jean-Pierre Dardenne soient par ailleurs
          parfaitement ˆ l'aise pour diriger un ensemble de
          personnages dont des acteurs non-professionnels aussi
          bien que des com*diens de m*tier assument l'identite ˆ
          lÕ*cran, n'est pas un facteur indifferent ˆ la pl*nitude
          du film ni a l'impression de v*rit* qui s'en d*gage. Le
          style de leur mise en sc*ne est exemplaire dans sa
          modestie, dans une simplicit* voulue qui ne distrait
          jamais de lÕessentiel qui est de montrer la vie au plus
          juste des individus et des circonstances. Un mot
          s'impose ˆ la fin de la projection: authenticit*.
          Authenticit* dans la peinture d'une violence sociale
          tr*s contemporaine et qui nous touchent tous,
          authentcit* surtout, dans celle de sentiments humains
          qui nous r*unissent et qui sont ˆ travers ce film un
          message d'espoir comme le cin*ma nous en donne
          rarement.. © France-Am*rique - Par Jean VALLIER - 17-23
          mai, 1997.   La Promesse ou comment conqu*rir sa dignit*
          humaine"

          Extrait du Journal Fran*ais

          Le Journal Fran*ais a rencontr* les fr*res belges Luc et
          Jean-Pierre Dardenne, de passage ˆ San Francisco dans le
          cadre du Festival international du film. Sereins, tout
          de jeans v*tus, ils allaient fumer de temps ˆ autre, ˆ
          lÕext*rieur du b‰timent, une ÇpetiteÈ cigarette entre
          deux interviews. ÇIci, cÕest dr™le, on ne peut fumer
          nulle partÈ, constate Luc en souriant. Quelques
          bouff*es, deux trois mots sur leur voyage, le d*cisif
          ÇBon, on y va, on a eu notre doseÈ, et les voilˆ tr*s
          professionnellement en train de commenter La Promesse.

          LÕhistoire se d*roule ˆ Li*ge (Belgique). Roger (Olivier
          Gourmet, excellent dans ce r™le ingrat), ouvrier au
          ch™mage, vit du trafic des immigr*s. Il les fait venir,
          leur procure de faux papiers, les loge et les fait
          travailler clandestinement, tout cela bien s*r ˆ un prix
          *lev*. Igor (J*r*mie R*nier, au jeu tr*s touchant), 15
          ans, le fils de Roger, lÕaide dans ce commerce ill*gal,
          et est habile lui-m*me ˆ voler et r*clamer leur d* aux
          Africains, Roumains et autres Croates. P*re et fils
          vivent relativement en bons termes, malgr* quelques
          violences de la part de Roger.

          Un jour, un ouvrier, Hamidou (Rasman* Ouedraogo), tombe
          dÕun *chafaudage et est gri*vement bless*. Igor demande
          ˆ son p*re de lÕemmener ˆ lÕh™pital. Celui-ci refuse car
          les inspecteurs du travail sont sur les lieux, il ne
          faudrait pas quÕils trouvent un clandestin. Hamidou
          meurt, mais auparavant il aura eu le temps de faire
          promettre ˆ Igor de prendre soin de sa femme Assita et
          de leur b*b*, qui vivent tous deux dans le foyer des
          ouvriers.

          Roger enterre Hamidou et cette affaire. Il tente aussi
          de les faire oublier ˆ Igor et de chasser Assita (Assita
          Ouedraogo) par diff*rents moyens. Cependant, la tension
          monte entre p*re et fils, et lÕadolescent se retrouve
          d*s*quilibr*, partag*. Comment *tre fid*le ˆ son p*re et
          ˆ Hamidou? Cela devient de plus enplus impossible,
          dÕautant quÕil assiste ˆ la bataille dÕAssita pour
          retrouver son mari et savoir la v*rit*. Aussi
          douloureuse soit-elle, Igor en arrivera ˆ prendre une
          d*cision, celle qui lui permettra de devenir un homme
          libre, d*sormais.

          ÇJÕaimerais que les spectateurs am*ricains soit touch*s
          par la r*volte dÕIgor, affirme Luc Dardenne. CÕest une
          r*volte difficile, pas du m*me type que celle des ann*es
          60 o* les jeunes envoyaient leur p*re au diable pour
          trouver leur libert*. Igor doit se r*volter pour trouver
          un vrai p*re, pour devenir vraiment lui-m*me. Il nÕa
          rien ˆ quoi sÕopposer car son p*rene repr*sente rien. Il
          doit sÕen s*parer et trouver un moyen de devenir un *tre
          humain, de respecter les autres et de se respecter
          aussi.È

          Les fr*res Dardenne ne condamnent pas pour autant le
          personnage du p*re, Roger, (m*me sÕils nÕexcusent pas ce
          quÕil fait), car, disent-ils, cÕest un Ç*gar*, et il
          souffre aussiÈ. Ils expliquent en partie son
          comportement comme une des cons*quences de lÕ*croulement
          de lÕindustrie. ÇNormalement, Roger devrait *tre
          solidaire de ces immigr*s, parce quÕil y a une histoire
          li*e ˆ la classe ouvri*re qui est une histoire de
          fraternit*. Quand les Italiens sont arriv*s en Belgique
          au moment du fascisme et surtout apr*s la guerre, ils
          ont *t* int*gr*s tr*s vite parce quÕils travaillaient
          sur les m*mes machines, vivaient dans les m*mes
          conditions. Mais au-jourdÕhui le march* du travail ne
          permet plus dÕint*grer les immigr*s. Et Roger a perdu la
          m*moire de la culture ouvri*re, il nÕa pas dÕh*ritage ˆ
          transmettre ˆ son fils. Il r*agit ˆ des situations et
          nÕa aucun discours qui justifie ses pratiques.È

          Luc et Jean-Pierre Dardenne, r*alisateurs dÕune dizaine
          de documentaires sur lÕhistoire du mouvement ouvrier,
          sÕint*ressent aux Çgens, ceux qui sont exclus par la
          production socialeÈ. Ils essayent de comprendre comment
          chacun peut Çdevenir un salaud ou un angeÈ, et observent
          la fa*on quÕont certains Ñ et dÕautres pas Ñ de
          Çregagner leur dignit* humaineÈ. Tout un programme!  ©
          Sonia Benjamin

          Reviews

          Moral Rebellion at Heart of 'La Promesse'

          Morality is a given in the movies; everyone, even the
          worst of creatures, knows if they're bad or good. In "La
          Promesse," an exceptional film from Belgium, all of that
          is reversed as a sense of right and wrong struggles to
          emerge in a young man who never knew there was a
          difference. The conflicts involved are intense and
          absorbing, proving that compelling moral dilemmas make
          for the most dramatic cinema.

          An exciting discovery at both last year's Directors'
          Fortnight at Cannes and the New York Film Festival, "La
          Promesse" makes being politically relevant and
          philosophically thoughtful so simple and involving that
          the story seems to be telling itself. Written and
          directed by Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne, a pair of
          filmmaking brothers, it is made with such unobtrusive
          sureness that it's able to exert great power without
          forcing anything.

          Though relatively new to features, the Dardenne brothers
          have 20 years of documentary work in Belgium behind
          them, and their use of hand-held cameras and probing
          close-ups gives "La Promesse" the urgency and immediacy
          of total authenticity. Toss in unknown but persuasive
          actors and characters whose reality is unmistakable and
          you get an idea why this film is as bracing as it is.

          Ê"La Promesse" is set on the outskirts of the Belgian
          city of Li*ge and centers on a 15-year-old apprentice
          auto mechanic named Igor . An opportunistic sneak thief
          and smooth liar, Igor is like a small animal with dirty
          blond hair, casually amoral because in his world the
          opposite has never been presented as an option.

          ÊIgor's universe is completely controlled by his father,
          Roger (Belgian stage actor Olivier Gourmet). A pudgy,
          bearded and petty despot, Roger has a lie or a threat or
          a beating for every occasion. Hot-tempered, violent, a
          master of casual betrayals, Roger puts together scams
          without end, but he also cares for his son and values
          their almost symbiotic relationship.

          Roger's business is dealing in illegal
          immigrants--Turks, Ghanaians, Romanians and Koreans--who
          sneak into Belgium looking for a better life. Roger
          hides them in a clandestine rooming house, charging them
          exorbitant fees for false identity papers while
          collaborating with the police when a raid is needed to
          satisfy the local politicians.

          In all of this, Igor, made in his father's image and
          hardened by sharing his lifestyle, is a willing
          second-in-command. Part man, part boy, he spends the
          spare moment when he's not conniving with the old man
          putting together a go-kart with his young friends.

          Igor's life begins to change when Assita (Assita
          Ouedraogo) and her small child arrive from Burkina Faso
          to join husband and father Hamidou (Rasmane Ouedraogo)
          in Roger's boarding house. Assita's individuality
          intrigues Igor, and then a jolt of fate shoves their
          lives closer. Hamidou has an accident working illegally,
          Roger refuses to take him to the hospital, and he dies
          after making Igor agree to take care of his wife and
          child, the promise of the title.

          ÊIt's difficult to do justice to how subtly the film
          develops from here, how unflinching it depends on
          documentary-style realism and expressive faces to make
          its points. Though the question of romance never arises,
          Igor becomes increasingly protective of Assita, which
          puts him in conflict with his father, the only person
          who's ever cared about him. It's a predicament that is
          as difficult as it is compelling.

          "La Promesse's" actors have differing levels of
          experience, with J*r*mie Renier, an impressive natural,
          having the least and Assita Ouedraogo (whose first trip
          to Europe was to make this film) having appeared in
          three films of fellow countryman Idrissa Ouedraogo. But
          they all work so seamlessly here we feel we're
          eavesdropping on a moral rebellion that is being played
          out for the highest possible stakes.

          ÊAmong the many things it does right, "La Promesse"
          refuses to even consider glib solutions. This film
          understands that moral choices are a painful,
          troublesome business, that decisions to do the right
          thing are not simple to take and hardly make things
          easier. Nothing in life takes more courage, and no kind
          of filmmaking offers greater rewards.  © By Kennth Turan
          - Times Film Critic.

          Another Review

          La Promesse, a rare import from Belgium, indicates how
          grim the mood of a film can become when there's almost
          no comic relief. Excepting one or two moments of gallows
          humor, there's little to break the relentlessly bleak
          tone. Fortunately, the script is written with such
          intelligence and the characters are developed so
          believably that, irrespective of the downbeat approach
          (or, perhaps, because of it), it's difficult not to be
          moved by the plight of 15-year old Igor (an unforced
          performance by newcomer J*r*mie Renier), who is trapped
          into choosing between his father, Roger (Olivier
          Gourmet), and the demands of his conscience.

          When the film opens, Igor is already wise beyond his
          years. He's an active participant in his father's shady,
          "immigration service" business. Roger is one of those
          crooks who makes his money by preying on the desperation
          of others. For exorbitant fees, he smuggles illegal
          immigrants into Belgium, forges false work permits for
          them, and sets them up in slum-like apartmentsÊ (for
          which he charges unreasonably high rents). Many of the
          immigrants also work at Roger's construction site, where
          they are paid a pittance for hard,
          occasionally-dangerous work. Igor, who also works as an
          apprentice at a garage, serves as his father's
          assistant, and has learned to lie, cheat, and steal just
          as well as his old man.

          ÊIn addition to being a criminal, Roger is also a bully.
          When his son does something to displease him, he beats
          him mercilessly.Ê Despite all that, there's little doubt
          that he loves Igor, although he's unable to express his
          affection effectively. In addition, he has trained
          himself to objectify the men and women he smuggles into
          the country, adopting the same basic philosophy as the
          Belgian police: "Illegals don't exist." To Roger, the
          immigrants are a less-than-human source of income, and
          that is a philosophy he attempts to pass on. (This
          reminded me of a subplot in John Singleton's RosewoodÊ
          in which a father taught racism to his son.)Ê Dad's
          lessons are leaving an impression upon Igor until an
          event occurs that forces him to re- evaluate what he has
          learned.

          One of Roger's workers, Amidou (Rasmane Ouedraogo),
          falls from a scaffold and is critically injured. As he
          lies dying, he extracts a promise from Igor to care for
          his wife, Assita (played with quiet dignity by Assita
          Ouedraogo), and infant boy, both newly arrived from
          Bugina Faso. Rather than taking Amidou to a hospital
          (where all sorts of difficult questions would arise),
          Roger elects to let the man bleed to death, then buries
          him under a thick layer of cement. He encourages Igor to
          forget the incident, but the boy cannot, and his
          attempts to honor his promise to the dying Amidou
          generate friction between himself and his father. Worse
          still, Assita is often a grudging, if not openly
          unwilling, recipient of Igor's aid.

          ÊEssentially, La PromesseÊ is a variation of that motion
          picture staple, the "coming of age" story. The
          difference here, however, is that the choices faced by
          Igor are more complex than is the norm. Becoming an
          adult does not mean, as his father asserts,Ê learning
          how to drive and "getting laid" -- it means assessing
          the value of his word and heeding the call of his
          conscience, regardless of the price. No matter what Igor
          does, he will betray someone -- the crux of the matter
          for him is determining which betrayal he can live with.
          Although La Promesse presents a resolution, it makes it
          clear that there are no easy answers for Igor or for us.

          ÊAs directed by brothers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne
          (who have been making documentaries in their native
          country for more than two decades), La PromesseÊ has a
          "you are there" style that favors a cinema v*rit*
          approach to polished photography. In concert with a
          quartet of natural performances and a persuasive,
          insightful script, this method results in a film that
          one could easily accept as non-fiction. Indeed, while
          this particular story is an invention of the
          writer/directors, a host of universal truths can be
          found just beneath the surface.

          ÊLa PromesseÊ is designed to challenge an audience.
          There are numerous instances throughout when viewers
          will find themselves wondering what they would do in
          similar circumstances. On each of these occasions, the
          directors proceed in a logical, intelligent manner, and
          rarely stray into melodrama (although there are a few
          minor slips here and there). Despite being a low-key
          production, La Promesse speaks volumes about how we
          treat other human beings and what it means to truly grow
          up.  © 1997 James Berardinelli

          Another Review

          Those whose Latin extends beyond "E Pluribus Unum" might
          just remember "homo homini lupus" (man is a wolf to
          man). That's what the first part of "La Promesse" tells
          us. But it is followed by "homo homini agnus" (man is a
          lamb to man). At least that's my reading of the third
          feature by the Belgian Dardenne brothers.

          The movie, premiered in a parallel section of the 1996
          Cannes Festival, has been highly praised by American
          reviewers. It is mostly set in or near the city of Li*ge
          (Belgium). It is essentially a two plus two character
          drama. The first duo consists of young Igor and his
          father Roger. Igor is 15 -- as per information I gleaned
          in various documents. (The film proper is rather
          frustratingly vague about times, places and other
          factual information). The boy, already a heavy smoker
          and beer guzzler, but still a virgin, is something of a
          Peeping Tom, works in a gas station as an apprentice
          mechanic. He swipes the customers' wallets and shows up
          at the station fitfully --which results in his
          dismissal.

          Igor is his father's main helper in an illegal operation
          of illegal immigrant workers, African, Eastern European,
          Korean, etc., whom the ring, for a high price, spirits
          into Belgium hidden inside automobiles carries on
          car-transport vehicles. Then Roger, charging
          outrageously again, gets the immigrants fake papers and
          houses them in stinking, disgusting hovels within
          decrepit buildings.

          The traffickers know no decency. When, for example,
          there is political pressure on the gang, the operators
          sacrifice some of the aliens by pretending they'll be
          sent to America (after due payment), but betray them to
          the authorities.

          The story then focuses on an African couple (Amidou and
          Assita) and their baby. Amidou, working for Roger, falls
          off a scaffolding and dies, but not before exacting from
          Igor the promise that he will watch over Assita and her
          child. Since the body would cause an investigation,
          father and son dispose of it by burial in concrete.

          (It was unclear to me whether or not Amidou might have
          survived if taken to a hospital -- which Roger refused
          to do as unsafe for his business. So Amidou's death, may
          have to a killing by omission).

          The man's death is not revealed to his wife. She is told
          instead that Amidou had disappeared, run off perhaps to
          avoid paying debts. Roger now tries to get rid of Assita
          by sending her to nearby Cologne (Germany) where he
          would arrange for the woman to work as a prostitute.

          About 40 minutes into the movie, Igor begins to feel
          pangs of guilt that keep increasing. He defies his
          father and attempts to come to the woman's help. The
          process of a rising conscience and consciousness takes
          up the rest of the film. It is intermingled with some
          local touches of racism and xenophobia.

          The entire process is filmed like a documentary, with a
          constantly mobile, moving and often handheld camera.
          There is obviously a desire by the filmmakers to keep a
          realistic look and tone, which is understandable and
          adds power to the movie. This technique is valid in
          principle. It distances the work from the smooth and
          slick Hollywood-type films. But it often goes overboard
          and could induce fatigue in the viewers. A modicum of
          using the Steadycam system might have helped. ( This
          gyroscope-like method, introduced in the mid-70s, puts a
          special harness on the operator and allows moving the
          machine without jiggling).

          The episodes are done with naturalness, economical
          dialogue and no traditional verbal elaboration. The
          burden is on telling details, on implications and on the
          facial expressions of the performers. Roger, and above
          all Igor, acquit themselves nicely, with the latter's
          gradual transformation following a credible development.

          "La Promesse" is as far as one can go from commercial
          movies. It is well-meaning but also well-handled, never
          showing any traces of glop, sentimentalizing or
          romanticizing. Among its virtues is that if you imagine
          that this subject had been filmed in routine ways, it
          might have made of Assita a colorful --perhaps even wise
          -- character. Here, she is rather attractive but, like
          her drab surroundings, a sad figure. In a good touch, to
          find out if her husband is alive or dead, she consults
          the entrails of a chicken and later is taken by an older
          African lady to a witch doctor.

          Both Assita and Amidou come from Burkina Faso (the
          former Upper Volta), a small, poor country where,
          surprisingly, there is Africa's greatest ferment of
          movie-making, partly encouraged by the regular Pan
          African festivals in Ouagadougou, the capital. Director
          Idrissa Ouedraogo, a winner of major awards (e.g. at
          Cannes) is widely known internationally.

          Their real family names of Assita and Amidou are also
          Ouedraogo. It must be Burkina Faso's equivalent of Smith
          or Jones or else Idrissa's dozens of relatives have made
          it in cinema. A year or two ago, when Idrissa's latest
          film was shown at the Cannes Festival, the credits had
          such an unending list of Ouedraogos that at the press
          screening the critics kept bursting into laughter
          exponentially.  © Edwin Jahiel
          --------------------------------------------------------

          11. Cyrano de Bergerac (1990) (138 min.) Jean-Paul
          Rappeneau   (VHS No longer available)

            Cyrano est passionn*, g*n*reux, h*ro•que et il a de
          l'esprit. Il a aussi un nez pro*minent qui le force ˆ
          cacher ses sentiments pour sa cousine Roxane. Il pr*te
          alors son *loquence et sa plume ˆ son rival Christian
          pour s*duire la belle jeune fille. Le film a lieu en
          1640, la fin en 1655.

          L'action se situe au XVIIe si*cle ˆ Paris. Cyrano de
          Bergerac, escrimeur redoutable et po*te mais afflig*
          d'un long nez, est secr*tement amoureux de sa cousine,
          Roxane. Il n'ose lui d*clarer sa flamme. Or le cÏur de
          celle-ci ne bat que pour le beau Christian. Cyrano et
          Christian vont servir dans le m*me r*giment et
          deviennent amis. Mais Christian ne sait pas parler aux
          femmes, alors Cyrano va lui pr*ter son *loquence...

          Synopse du film

          Cyrano de Bergerac a vraiment exist*. Il a v*cu ˆ
          l'*poque de Louis XIV. C'*tait un soldat et un *crivain
          qui a laiss* un curieux roman de science-fiction o* il
          d*crit un voyage dans la lune. Ce personnage historique
          serait cependant rest* dans une tranquille obscurit*
          s'il n'avait pas *t* transform* en h*ros de l*gende et
          immortalis* dans une com*die c*l*bre du 19e si*cle.
          Cette com*die, intitul*e Cyrano de Bergerac, *crite il y
          a cent ans par Edmond Rostand, a connu un tr*s grand
          succ*s ˆ son *poque. Depuis, elle a *t* mise en musique,
          adapt*e ˆ l'*cran, et maintes fois transform*e et
          parodi*e. Le dernier film en date (1990), dans lequel
          G*rard Depardieu joue le r™le principal, est une
          reproduction assez fid*le de la pi*ce originale.

          Cyrano de Bergerac est essentiellement une histoire
          d'amour, bas*e sur un gigantesque quiproquo
          tragico-comique. Cyrano aime Roxane qui aime un autre
          homme, Christian. Mais si Roxane a d'abord *t* attir*e
          par la beaut* physique de Christian, c'est pour la
          beaut* de sa po*sie qu'elle l'aime vraiment. Or, cette
          po*sie n'est pas celle de Christian mais de l'infortun*
          Cyrano.

          Cyrano, le h*ros de l'histoire, est un vaillant soldat
          du r*giment des Cadets de Gascogne. Il est brave,
          courageux, t*m*raire ˆ l'extr*me. C'est aussi un po*te ˆ
          l'‰me tendre. Il est bon, loyal, g*n*reux, intelligent,
          spirituel, sensible et il *crit de magnifiques vers. Il
          a toutes les qualit*s possibles sauf une: il n'est pas
          beau.

          Cyrano est en effet afflig* d'une infirmit* incurable:
          il a un nez monstrueusement long. Cette infirmit* le
          rend tr*s susceptible aupr*s des hommes, et tr*s timide
          aupr*s des femmes. Personne en sa pr*sence ne peut
          mentionner le mot "nez". Cyrano est secr*tement amoureux
          de sa cousine Roxane, mais il sait qu'il n'a aucune
          chance, pr*cis*ment ˆ cause de cet immense nez qui le
          d*figure...

          L'action de la pi*ce se passe dans la France du 17e
          si*cle. Dans la premi*re sc*ne, une foule se presse pour
          assister ˆ un spectacle de Montfleury, com*dien en
          vogue, mais ennemi de Cyrano. Dans cette foule, on
          reconna”t tous les personnages principaux de l'histoire,
          et d'abord Roxane. Elle est belle, coquette, romanesque
          et *prise de po*sie. Tous les hommes sont amoureux
          d'elle. ce jour-lˆ, elle est accompagn*e du Comte de
          Guiche, un seigneur noble et puissant qui lui fait la
          cour. Mais Roxane pense secr*tement ˆ un jeune homme
          qu'elle a aper*u un jour et dont elle est tomb*e
          secr*tement amoureuse. C'est le beau Christian, qui lui
          aussi est lˆ dans la foule ˆ la recherche de Roxane. Le
          public s'impatiente.

          On attend Montfleury, mais on attend aussi Cyrano qui a
          promis de lancer un d*fi ˆ Montfleury. Montfleury entre
          en sc*ne. Est-ce que Cyrano viendra? Oui, il arrive!
          D'une voix *clatante, il ridiculise Montfleury et le
          chasse de sc*ne.

          Tous les spectateurs ne sont pas contents de
          l'interruption du spectacle, en particulier de Guiche et
          son neveu Valvert. Celui-ci va d*fier Cyrano en lui
          disant "Monsieur, vous avez un grand nez"! Stimul* par
          cette insulte supr*me, Cyrano se lance alors dans la
          fameuse tirade (voir ajout) o* il fait l'*loge de son
          appendice nasal. Puis, il traite Valvert de sot et
          engage celui-ci dans un duel, tout en composant des
          vers. Tout cela se passe sous les yeux de la belle
          Roxane, tr*s fi*re de la bravoure et de l'intelligence
          de son cousin.

          Apr*s le duel, Cyrano va accompagner un ami chez lui. Il
          tombe dans une embuscade d'o* il sort victorieux ˆ un
          contre cent. L'histoire de cet exploit fait le tour de
          la ville et Cyrano devient le h*ros du jour.
          Entre-temps, Roxane lui a envoy* sa dame de compagnie
          pour lui demander un rendez-vous. Intimid*, mais
          reprenant espoir, Cyrano va au rendez-vous. Apr*s-un
          long pr*ambule o* elle *voque leur enfance pass*e
          ensemble et leur longue amiti*, Roxane d*clare son amour
          pour ... Le visage de Cyrano s'illumine. Pour lui?
          H*las, non! Ce n'est pas lui que Roxane aime, mais le
          beau Christian. Oui. c'est lui qu'elle aime et si elle
          est venue voir Cyrano, c'est pour lui demander de
          prendre Christian sous sa protection. Celui-ci va, en
          effet, entrer au r*giment des Cadets de Gascogne, le
          r*giment de Cyrano.

          Cyrano promet de prot*ger Christian, mais c'est d**u et
          triste qu'il va rejoindre ses compagnons d'armes. Tout
          le monde le salue en h*ros. Cyrano trop pein* ne fait
          pas attention. Soudain, Christian, la nouvelle recrue du
          r*giment, entre dans la salle. Ne connaissant pas
          Cyrano, il se moque de lui, r*p*tant sans cesse le mot
          "nez". L'assistance est p*trifi*e! Que va-t-il se
          passer? Est-ce que Cyrano va tuer Christian? Non! Fid*le
          ˆ la promesse faite ˆ Roxane, Cyrano traite son rival en
          ami et en fr*re.

          D*s lors, Cyrano va assister Christian dans toutes ses
          d*marches amoureuses aupr*s de Roxane. Christian avoue
          qu'il est sot, qu'il n'a pas d'*loquence, qu'il ne sait
          pas parler aux femmes. QuÕˆ cela ne tienne! C'est Cyrano
          qui sera sa voix, son porte-parole. C'est lui qui *crira
          ˆ Roxane les lettres d'amour que Christian ne sait pas
          *crire. L'inspiration lui est facile puisque, lui aussi,
          il aime *perdument Roxane.

          Les lettres de Cyrano, sign*es Christian, enflamment de
          plus en plus le coeur de Roxane qui consent ˆ accorder
          un rendez-vous au beau Christian. Celui-ci va seul au
          rendez-vous, mais sans l'*loquence de Cyrano, il ne dit
          que des banalit*s. Roxane, qui s'attendait ˆ des
          torrents de d*clarations lyriques, est d**ue et renvoie
          le jeune homme. Christian obtient un nouveau
          rendez-vous, mais cette fois, avec l'assistance de
          Cyrano, qui lui souffle chaque mot de sa d*claration
          d'amour, il r*ussit ˆ conqu*rir Roxane dans la fameuse
          sc*ne du balcon. Au cours de cette sc*ne, Christian
          monte au balcon de Roxane, entre chez elle o* les deux
          amants sont mari*s par un pr*tre envoy* par de Guiche,
          toujours amoureux de Roxane. De Guiche arrive lui-m*me
          chez Roxane o* il apprend le mariage. Furieux et jaloux,
          il annonce qu'il vient d'*tre nomm* commandant de
          l'arm*e fran*aise charg*e de d*loger les Espagnols de la
          ville d'Arras. Il d*cide d'y envoyer sur le champ le
          r*giment des Cadets de Gascogne, s*parant ainsi
          Christian de sa nouvelle femme.

          L'action change de lieu. Nous sommes maintenant ˆ Arras
          o* le r*giment de Christian et de Cyrano est cantonn*.
          La guerre a mal tourn* pour les Fran*ais. Assi*g* par
          les Espagnols, les fougueux soldats de Gascogne meurent
          de faim. Cyrano veut tenir la promesse qu'il a faite ˆ
          Roxane. Chaque jour elle re*oit une lettre de Christian.
          En r*alit*, c'est toujours Cyrano qui lui *crit,
          *videmment ˆ l'insu de son ami, des billets d'un lyrisme
          magnifique.

          Dans le camp fran*ais, la situation est maintenant
          d*sesp*r*e. Sur les ordres de de Guiche, le r*giment de
          Gascogne doit *tre sacrifi*. Cyrano *crit ˆ Roxane une
          derni*re lettre d'adieu, toujours sign*e du nom de
          Christian. Entre-temps, *mue par l'intensit* des lettre
          po*tiques de son mari, Roxane d*cide de tout risquer
          pour le rejoindre ˆ Arras. Elle traverse les lignes
          espagnoles et arrive dans le camp quelques heures avant
          la bataille finale. En pr*sence de Cyrano, elle avoue ˆ
          Christian que ce n'est plus pour sa beaut* qu'elle
          l'aime, mais pour sa po*sie, et qu'elle l'aimerait m*me
          s'il *tait laid. D*concert* par cet aveu, Christian part
          ˆ l'assaut. Au cours de l'engagement, il est bless*. Il
          meurt, r*confort* par l'amour de Roxane et l'amiti* de
          Cyrano. La bataille finale a lieu. Pendant cette
          bataille, Cyrano et de Guiche combattent h*ro•quement.
          Christian est mort, mais sa femme et ses amis sont
          sauv*s.

          Quinze ans ont pass*. Roxane a pris le deuil de
          Christian et s'est retir*e dans un couvent. Lˆ, elle
          re*oit r*guli*rement la visite de ses deux amis, de
          Guiche, devenu duc et mar*chal de France, et Cyrano,
          pauvre, mais toujours aussi fier. Un jour, celui-ci
          arrive en retard au rendez-vous. I1 a *t* bless* dans
          une embuscade tendue par ses ennemis et il va mourir.

          Ce jour-lˆ, Roxane comprend enfin que c'est bien lui
          l'auteur des merveilleuses lettres d'amour qu'elle
          recevait de Christian. Cyrano meurt dans ses bras,
          finalement aim* par celle qu'il avait aim*e toute sa
          vie.

          La fameuse tirade du nez

          The nose diatribe...
          Enorme, mon nez! [ ... ] C'est un roc! ... c'est un pic!
          ... c'est un cap!
          Que dis-je, c'est un cap? ... Cest une p*ninsule!'

          My nose, sir, is enormous [ ... ] A rock, a bluff, a
          cape!
          - No, a peninsula in size and shape!"'

          et son poignant monologue final:

          Oui, vous m'arrachez tout, le laurier et la rose!
          Arrachez! Il y  a malgr* vous quelque chose
          Que j'emporte, et ce soir, quand j'entrerai chez Dieu
          Mon salut balaiera largement le seuil bleu,
          Quelque chose que sans un pli, sans une tache,
          J'emporte malgr* vous, et c'est ... Mon panache.

          You take everything - the rose and the laurel too!
          Go on, take them! But, in spite of you,
          One thing goes with me now and tonight,
          When I at last God behold ...
          My salute will sweep His blue threshold ...
          With something spotless, a diamond in the ash ...
          Which I take in spite of you
           And that is ... My panache.

          A Film Review by Roger Ebert

           It is entirely appropriate that Cyrano - whose very
          name evokes the notion of grand romantic gestures -
          should have lived his life bereft of romance. What is
          romanticism, after all, but a bold cry about how life
          should be, not about how it is? And so here is Cyrano de
          Bergerac, hulking, pudding-faced, with a nose so large
          he is convinced everyone is laughing at him - yet he
          dares to love the fair Roxane. I have made it one of my
          rules in life never to have anything to do with anyone
          who does not instinctively love Cyrano, and I am most at
          home with those who identify with him.

           The "real" Cyrano, if there was such a creature beneath
          the many layers of myth that have grown up around the
          name, lived in France from 1619 to 1655, and wrote
          stories about his magnificent voyages to the moon and
          the sun. He inspired the Cyrano we love, a more modern
          creation, the work of Edmond Rostand, who wrote a play
          in 1897 that may not have been great literature, but has
          captured the imagination of everyone who has read it,
          and has been recycled countless times.

           Steve Martin and Daryl Hannah starred in the wonderful
          modern-dress comedy "Roxane" (1987), inspired by the
          outlines of Rostand's story, and now here is a
          magnificently lusty, brawling, passionate and
          tempestuous classical version, directed by Jean-Paul
          Rappeneau. Cyrano is played by G*rardDepardieu, the most
          popular actor in France, who won the best actor award at
          the Cannes Film Festival last May.You would not think he
          would be right for the role. Shouldn't Cyrano be
          smaller, more tentative, more pathetic - instead of this
          outsized, physically confident man of action? Depardieu
          is often said to be "wrong" for his roles. His physical
          presence makes a definite statement on the screen, and
          then his acting genius goes to work, and transforms him
          into whatever is required for the role - into a
          spiritual priest, a hunchbacked peasant, a medieval
          warrior, a car salesman, a businessman, a sculptor, a
          gangster.  Here he plays Cyrano, gadfly and
          rabble-rouser, man about town, friend of some, envied by
          many, despised by a powerful few, and hopelessly, oh,
          most painfully and endearingly, in love with Roxane
          (Anne Brochet).   But his nose is too large. Not quite
          as long as Steve Martin's was, perhaps, but long enough
          that when he looks in the mirror he knows it would be an
          affront to present the nose anywhere in the vicinity of
          the fair Roxane with an amorous purpose attached to it.

           Now here is the inoffensive clod Christian de
          Neuvillette (Vincent Perez), Cyrano's friend. He is a
          romantic, too, but not in Cyrano's league. For him, love
          is a fancy. For Cyrano, a passion. Yet if Cyrano cannot
          have Roxane, then he will help his friend, and so he
          ghostwrites letters and ghost-recites speeches in the
          moonlight, and because Roxane senses that the words come
          from a heart brave and true, she pledges herself to
          Christian. The irony - which only the audience can fully
          appreciate - is that anyone with a heart so pure that
          she could love a cheesy lump like Christian because of
          his language could certainly love a magnificent man like
          Cyrano for the same reason, and regardless of his nose.

          The screenplay by Rappeneau and the skilled veteran
          Jean-Claude Carri*re spins this love story in a web of
          court intrigue and scandal, with Cyrano deeply involved
          on the wrong (that is, the good) side. And all leads up
          to the heartbreaking final round of revelations and
          truth-telling, and at last to Depardieu's virtuoso dying
          scene, which has to be seen to be believed.  What other
          actor would have had the courage to go with such
          determination so far over the top, to milk the pathos so
          shamelessly, to stagger and groan and weep and moan
          until it would all be funny? Only the French could
          conceive and write, and perhaps only Depardieu could
          deliver, a dying speech that rises and falls with pathos
          and defiance for so long, only to end with the assertion
          that when he is gone, he will be remembered for . . .
          what? His heart? Courage? No, of course not. Nothing
          half so commonplace: For his panache.

          "Cyrano de Bergerac" is a splendid movie not just
          because it tells its romantic story, and makes it
          visually delightful,and centers it on Depardieu, but for
          a better reason: The movie acts as if it believes this
          story. Depardieu is not a satirist - not here, anyway.
          He plays Cyrano on the level, for keeps.

          Of course, the material is comic. But it is the frequent
          mistake of amateurs to play comedy for laughs, when the
          great artists know there is only one way to play it, and
          that is very seriously indeed. But with panache.© Roger
          Ebert
          --------------------------------------------------------

          12. Ridicule (1996) Patrice Leconte

          A note on King Louis XVI (1774-1792)

          Louis XVI, though far superior in personal habits than
          his grandfather [Louis XV] and possessed with a genuine
          desire to govern, was pious and virtuous, but he was
          fat, rather clumsy and lacked sustained willpower. He
          also ate in excess so that he would often fall asleep
          during meetings or other functions in Versailles.
          Contrary to Louis XIV, Louis XVI had a very common
          appearance and, even when dressed in the best garments,
          never looked elegant. His big love was hunting and aside
          from this sport, Louis XVI had little taste for the arts
          and music, and he was too clumsy to dance. In spite of
          these drawbacks, Louis XVI was liked by the French
          people. He appeared to have a good heart and to be
          worthy of trust His wife, Marie-Antoinette, was
          beautiful, charming and at ease in society, in contrast
          with Louis XVI, who was clumsy and very ill at ease with
          people. Louis XVI adored his wife to a fault, while
          Marie-Antoinette had only contempt for him, seeking
          frivolous pleasures away from him. She was also a
          spendthrift, so much so that she was soon nicknamed
          "Madame deficit." The fact that she was the daughter of
          the Austrian empress alienated her from the affection of
          the French, who remembered that for three hundred years
          Austria had been France's enemy. In fact,
          Marie-Antoinette never became French. She looked at the
          French from an Austrian point of view, and so the French
          were very unhappy, not only because they hated the
          queen, but because France faced crisis after crisis,
          mostly due to the national debt, which was huge and
          which tripled after 1774. Between 1775 and 1778 there
          were many violent riots because of food shortages and
          heavy taxes. Louis XVI was faced with an emergency
          situation, but he could not cope with it. The finances
          of the state were further drained by France's
          involvement in the American War of Independence, a way
          for France to get back at England. Of course there was a
          more positive aspect to France's assistance to young
          America. A number of young noblemen, the famous Marquis
          de Lafayette among them, went to the help of the
          American patriots. Soon Benjamin Franklin came to France
          and dazzled the Court, its women and Parisian salons.
          But when the war ended in America, France did not gain
          much. First of all the Americans signed a unilateral
          treaty with England, and France only managed to recover
          later a few minor territories, the islands of St. Pierre
          et Miquelon off Newfoundland, that it had lost through
          the Treaty of Paris in 1763. The consequences of the
          American war were serious for France, particularly
          because it showed the French people a model of
          government founded on democratic principles. In addition
          it drastically emptied the coffers of France to the
          point that it required a meeting of the Estates-General
          to examine what measures could be taken. Ironically,
          this meeing did not do much for France's finances, but
          more importantly, it precipitated the fall of the Old
          Regime. © Guy Mermier  Historical Background of the
          French Revolution, p.59-60

             Ridicule

              Gr*goire Ponceludon de Malavoy, un jeune noble
          provincial, *clair* mais na•f, arrive ˆ Versailles avec
          l'espoir d'obtenir l'aide du roi pour faire ass*cher les
          marais qui tuent ses paysans,  Gr*goire d*couvre alors
          le monde de la cour, le best esprit, les intrigues
          politiques, l'amour et les compromissions.

          In 1783 Baron Ponceludon de Malavoy lives in a southern
          area of swamplands that breed mosquitoes that have been
          killing hordes of people. He is an engineer with a grand
          plan of draining the swamps. Lacking the wherewithal, he
          gets on his horse and rides up to Versailles where the
          court lives its dolce vita. The French Revolution is
          only six years away, but no aristocrat shown seems
          conscious of its coming or of anything except
          entertainment and being noticed by the King.

          The King is Louis XVI, who will be guillotined in a few
          years, as will his wife Marie-Antoinette and many of the
          courtiers. Ponceludon na•vely hopes to gain access to
          His Majesty and ask him for life-saving funds. He is
          rapidly taken in hand by a protector, the Marquis de
          Bellegarde, who is also a doctor  (his talents are
          gently mocked by the movie) and a scientist. His
          experiments have impoverished him, but he is nonetheless
          in good standing at Versailles.

          The Marquis opens the idealist visitor's eyes to the
          facts of life at the court. One needs not only sponsors
          but wit in a high society where people constantly play
          games and are deadly bored by anything approaching
          serious issues. They only take seriously unseriousness,
          "l*g*ret*" (lightness) superficiality.  They practice
          "esprit" (wit), "mots" (bons mots), puns, paradoxes,
          cutting remarks, rapier repartees, quotable quips or
          amusing verse. The Marquis himself is strong along those
          lines. Nothing upsets him more than when after a
          gathering he thinks of a witticism he could have made
          earlier.

          A clever quip and your fortune may be made. A bad one or
          one at your expense, and you are covered with ridicule
          and disgraced. Luckily, Ponceludon is not a titled
          bumpkin from the provinces, but is well read and has a
          great gift for words. The Marquis introduces him to the
          nobility, especially to a beautiful Countess, Madame de
          Blayac, one of many passing mistresses of the king. She
          sleeps with her household clergyman, the Abb* de
          Vilecourt.

          Both the Countess and her Abb* have a fearful talent for
          "esprit. " This goes beyond games. Wit can be --and
          often is-- used cruelly, to put down people and insult
          them, to exact private vengeance, sometimes to reduce
          them to a form of dishonor through verbal dueling. Words
          are like swords dipped in honey or perfume, but still
          lethal. It's all done with exquisite elegance that never
          includes the use of vulgar epithets or even ordinary
          insults. "Imb*cile" and "idiot" are reserved for social
          inferiors.

          All this goes hand in hand with promiscuity, amorality
          and immorality --and with highly amusing situations,
          among them a blase nobleman returning from England where
          he has discovered "humour. " A pity the film does not
          dig deeper in comparisons between wit and humour.

          Ponceludon is a hit at Versailles, but must conform to
          the rules. In just days he spends on clothes his income
          for a year. He starts using foppish powder and lipstick.
          His mentor advises him not to laugh at his own jokes
          and, whenever he laughs, not to do it with his mouth
          open. Yet if Ponceludon meets with success, the King is
          still hard to reach. Among other stumbling blocks is the
          necessity to prove to the court genealogist that his
          nobility does go back to the year 1199!

          Meanwhile back at the Marquis's country home the Baron
          has met, argued with and predictably fallen in love with
          Mathilde, the daughter of the Marquis,  a scientist
          herself (she works on diving suits), a pure young woman
          who is the opposite of the corrupt courtiers, a daughter
          whom her father brought up by the precepts of
          Jean-Jacques Rousseau, with naturalness and freedom.
          (She's really an anachronistic, late 20th Century young
          lady).

          Matters get complicated. Mathilde, needing funds for her
          experiments, has almost accepted to marry a rich old man
          who is looking forward to becoming a widower. The scene
          of a cynical prenuptial contract is a howl. Ponceludon
          is tempted by his new milieu, but he holds steady in his
          plans to rescue his people back home. Finally, he does
          get into the King's good grace...

          There's a surprising amount of plot, but it is
          subservient to the minute-by-minute details. The
          developments include the main figures, a duel, a
          touching sequence around the Abb* de l'Ep*e (a real
          figure) and his school for deaf-mutes, in which the
          court's snobs get their comeuppance, and more...

          The movie was the opener at the 1996 Cannes Festival. It
          is beautifully photographed and scored, with a profusion
          of beautiful interiors, exteriors,  costumes and
          artifacts. The casting is perfect, as are all the
          delicious performances. Remarkably, the film has three
          newcomers to the screen: Berling (Ponceludon), Godr*che
          (Mathilde) and scriptwriter Waterhouse.

          Director Leconte, known in France for comedies not
          exported to the USA, has a sense of humor that he sneaks
          even into such films as the thriller "Monsieur Hire, "
          and the very offbeat love story "The Hairdresser's Wife.
          " He has stated that he did not attempt to catch with
          total authenticity the looks, moods, sounds or
          lifestyles of the period. Or to draw parallels between
          that society and ours. No matter. His quirky recreation
          is convincing, his subject is original and the film
          drips with Frenchness as much as any I can think of. ©
          By Edwin Jahiel
          --------------------------------------------------------

          13. Le fabuleux destin dÕAm*lie Poulain (Jean-Pierre
          Jeunet)  2000

          Am*lie (Audrey Tautou) is a winsome young woman who
          works as a waitress in a small Parisian bistro. Raised
          by a nervous mother and a doctor father (Rufus), the
          only attention she was given as a child was when he
          would give her an annual medical check-up. This fleeting
          display of love would make her heart beat so fast that
          her parents believed she was sick, too sick to go to
          school, so Amelie created her own fantasy world, filled
          with danger and adventure. Am*lie glides through her
          adult life unaware that the loneliness she carried as a
          child is slowly building inside her, until one day,
          after hearing of the death of Princess Diana, Am*lie
          decides she must do something to help herself.

          This she does, by helping other people. After finding a
          small box hidden in the wall of her apartment, Am*lie
          decides she will find the original owner and return it
          to them. This she does anonymouslyÉ Watching from afar,
          Am*lie sees the overjoyed impact this has on the old
          man, who is reunited with his prized childhood
          possessions, and from this, she is hooked, hooked on
          helping the people closest to her. However, when Am*lie
          sees an old friend, who as a child was an outcast
          similar to herself, Am*lie's beating heart once again
          goes into overdrive. The man is Nino (Mathieu
          Kassovitz). Nino works for the most part in a sex shop
          in the lower part of town, but his major hobby is
          collecting the discarded pictures from public photo
          booths, and assembling the images in his scrapbook.

          Both Am*lie and Nino would appear to be made for each
          other, but still Am*lie is unable to approach him.
          Instead she decides to follow him around; playing mental
          games similar to the ones she played on the people whose
          lives she was able to sort out. All of this is secondary
          however to Jeunet's striking depiction of Paris as a
          rose-tinted, candy cane world, in which the clouds are
          shaped like bunnies and love conquers all. It is through
          this empty majesty of photography, production design,
          and one of the most adorably different leading ladies in
          the from of Tautou, that we allow ourselves to be pulled
          into this world.

          The film coasts along from one good deed to another,
          with one glorious shot after another, so detailed in its
          execution that just thinking about a scene later will
          make you wont to re-experience the film all over again.
          Certainly there are some minor flaws to the film, a
          little too sugary in some places, but nothing too
          distracting, and it certainly isn't the dumbing down of
          foreign cinema that some critics hailed it as. Am*lie is
          nothing more than a sweet natured film about, for the
          most, a sweet natured character, and is a film so
          entertaining and enjoyable, that after viewing Am*lie
          once you will no doubt be intoxicated by the joy that
          the film transmits.

          Le pari d'Am*lie c'est Paris.

          Car c'est bien Paris que Jean-Pierre Jeunet voulait
          filmer.

          " Am*lie est un film sur la victoire de l'imagination,
          ce qui m'amusait, c'*tait de retrouver, d'imaginer, de
          r*inventer un Paris id*al... ", d*clare-t-il.

          C'est d'autant plus vrai qu'avant de finaliser ce
          projet, la FOX l'appelle pour r*aliser le quatri*me
          Alien, et qu'apr*s une ann*e sous les palmiers, il ne
          r*ve que de Paris... Un Paris recr**, pour l'occasion :
          sans *poque, m*me si l'histoire se passe ˆ la fin des
          ann*es 90, un peu r*tro (citro‘n DS), sans embouteillage
          ou stationnement sauvage, relativement printanier, avec
          des affiches belles et color*es, coh*rentes entre elles,
          aucun graffiti, et un ciel constamment bleut*. " Chaque
          plan doit *tre un tableau " se justifie-t-il en citant
          Kurosawa. Cette exigence esth*tique a demande un travail
          de post production chez Dubois (Le Pacte des loups,
          Ast*rix, Alien IV). L'*talonneur *tait constamment sur
          le tournage pour assister le directeur photo, Bruno
          Delbonnel, un copain de 25 ans de Jeunet. C'est aussi le
          premier film sans Khondji pour Jeunet. Le r*sultat est
          saisissant.

          Ce cocktail donne une tonalit* diff*rente des autres
          opus du cin*aste, o* il remplace la noirceur romantique
          par une po*sie amoureuse plus optimiste.

          C'est aussi la premi*re fois que Jeunet tourne en
          ext*rieur. Comme il l'avoue lui-m*me, il fallait bien y
          passer un jour. Il n'a pas aim*, d'ailleurs. Trop
          incontr™lable : les gens, le temps, l'argent que cela
          fait perdre...

          Et donc de ce m*lange de tournage rue Lepic, rue des
          Trois Fr*res et Gare de l'Est, il y a un an, de ces
          images piqu*es au zapping de Canal + (l'hallucination du
          cheval dans la course cycliste), de la d*couverte de
          Jamel au temps de Radio Nova, ou encore d'un CD de Yann
          Tiersen *cout* par une stagiaire, de ces Foutaises est
          n* Am*lie.

          Ce que j'aime bien c'est quand les histoires se
          finissent bien.

          Le film est fait pour rendre les gens heureux. Il
          transpire une nouvelle maturit* de la part de Jeunet,
          qui souhaitait un film positif, o* l'on construit plut™t
          que l'on d*truit.
          " J'avais envie de faire un film qui soit l*ger, qui
          fasse r*ver, qui fasse plaisir.... "

          N.B.:  The above videos cannot be taken out for
          individual viewing during the semester.
          --------------------------------------------------------
Additional Films to choose from for your individual
          presentation:

          0. Jeux interdits (Forbbiden Games)   (1952)  90 mins.
          (Black & White) - Ren* Cl*ment  - 0730

             "One of the most important films ever made on the
          horrors of war."

                Five-year old Paulette witnesses the killing of
          her parents and her dog by a German bombardment at the
          beginning of WWII. A peasant family takes her in, and
          she grows close to the youngest son Michel. Together
          they become fascinated with death and steal crosses from
          the cemetery to adorn her pet dog’s grave. Because of
          their ‘crime’, the children are separated, and Paulette
          is sent to an orphanage.

                Cl*ment wanted his film to be a true portrait of
          childhood. The children are treated as complicated human
          beings, neither "good" nor "bad", but certainly affected
          by the violence around them. None of the actors had
          considerable experience. Brigitte Fossey, whom Cl*ment
          chose to play Paulette, was vacationing with her family
          in Nice when the director was testing children for her
          part, and her parents appear in the film as Paulette’s
          parents.

                  When it was awarded the Grand Prix Ind*pendant
          at Cannes in 1952, it was heralded "for having known how
          to raise up, with a singular lyric purityand an
          exceptional force of expression, the innocence of
          childhood over the tragedy and desolation."
          --------------------------------------------------------

          1. Olivier Olivier  Agnieszka Holland - 3390

                 If it weren't so good, it would be glib fun to
          dismiss "Olivier Olivier" as a fractured fairy tale for
          recondite adult tastes; it's about a little boyon his
          way to grandmother's house with a food basket who is set
          upon by a wolf. Yet that symbolic overlay is never
          intrusive or self-conscious; it's part of the quiet,
          clammy art of the film which advances through horror on
          intimate detail after another. Directed by the legendary
          Agnieszka Holland ("Europa, Europa"), the film is an
          existential thriller as chilly and dislocating as
          anything by Chabrol or Sluizer or Hitchcock, other
          masters of the art.

            "Olivier Olivier," begins with a bright and happy
          family that, under it all, is not very bright and happy.
          Rural bourgeois, the Duvals, Dr. (he's a veterinarian)
          and Mrs. and their two kids live in a picturesque
          farmhouse amid prosperity and content. But the family
          seethes with secret currents of dysfunction: The two
          children, Olivier and Nadine, vie for attention from
          their parents; mama Elisabeth secretly prefers Olivier
          to Nadine while holding her ineffectual husband Serge in
          contempt; Serge, for his part, yearns for freedom from
          this batch of whiners.

                  Then one day, like every other day, Olivier
          disappears, as if off the face of the earth. Holland, as
          it turns out, isn't terribly interested in making a
          police procedural, so the details of investigation, the
          documentary aspects of the film, seem somewhat
          lackadaisical, and that may cost the movie a bit. (One
          suspect, who in reality would be grilled like a cheese
          sandwich, isn't even interrogated). She is interested in
          what the tragedy reveals about the family, and watches
          how, in the aftermath of the disappearance, it all but
          unravels, to reinvent itself. Serge uses the loss as an
          excuse to take off; Elisabeth uses it as an excuse to
          drive him away; Nadine uses it as an excuse to get close
          to her mother. In a strange way, each of them has
          profited from the crime.

                  Six years later, however, the provincial cop who
          failed to solve the case, now transferred to Paris,
          comes across a particularly smug 15-year-old male
          hustler with provocative knowledge about the case. He
          concludes the boy is somehow Olivier. And the boy is
          amazingly convincing. It soon develops that everyone
          involved has a vested interest in believing that Olivier
          has been restored.

                  The film therefore has icy parallels to that
          other European classic of possible false identity,"The
          Return of Martin Guerre," but it proceeds in much more
          unsettling ways. It tells us less about society than the
          strange culture of dysfunctional families. This young
          man is feral and cunning and superficially charming and
          an exceedingly quick study. But, despite the
          considerable weight of delusion that supports the
          interpretation, the question remains: Is he Olivier?

                  Holland draws this game out superbly and
          finishes it with a stunning conclusion. Part mystery,
          part myth and part cunning psychological thriller,
          "Olivier Olivier" is superbly riveting.
          --------------------------------------------------------

                    2.  La fracture du myocarde (Cross my heart) (1990)
105min. - Jacques Fansten  - S-VT 3387

               A French comedy which became a cult hit. Martin
          conceals his mother's death to avoid the soulless French
          social services or anonymous orphanage. His classmates
          enter into a pact to withhold the information from the
          authorities and tension is established through their
          intricate efforts to preserve all signs of normalcy. "A
          comic essay on the desperate ingenuity of youth." (Time
          Magazine)

          A Film Review by Hal Hinson

              Limitless numbers of filmmakers have attempted to
          evoke the spirit of Francois Truffaut in their work, and
          nearly as man have failed. Jacques Fansten's poignantly
          funny "Cross My Heart" is that rare exception; it not
          only captures the human Truffaut spirit, but the
          Truffaut grit as well.

              The film deals with one of Truffaut's favorite
          subjects, childhood. In particular, it tells the story
          of a group of brash eighth-graders who attempt to save
          their friend, Martin (Sylvain Copans), from an orphanage
          by keeping the sudden death of his mother a secret. At
          its heart, the film is a drolly macabre tribute to the
          infinite resourcefulness of children. None of Martin's
          classmates wants to see Martin put up for adoption;
          they've all seen the programs on television about the
          horrors of foster homes, and so they decide to secretly
          bury his mother and, banding together to provide food
          and other necessities, construct a fa*ade of domestic
          normalcy to disguise the mother's absence.

              The film's comedy grows out of the absurd
          conspiratorial extremes to which the children are driven
          to make their scheme work. First, a coffin must be
          found, and notes are passed around class, asking if
          anyone has a wooden crate at least six feet tall. One
          young girl offers a grandfather clock stored away in her
          parents' attic, but only upon one condition -- that she
          be told what it's to be used for. Extra muscle, too, is
          needed to transport the coffin and dig the grave. And,
          of course, a car has to be "borrowed."

              In this manner, the once-small group of plotters
          grows exponentially, until half the school, family
          members and even a teacher become accomplices. As the
          secret society of conspirators grows, the dynamics
          within the group become more complicated. Crushes and
          petty jealousies blossom; the air is thick with puppy
          love. At times, the movie seems to hover on the edge of
          kiddie surrealism, especially when the children begin
          shopping around for candidates to adopt their friend.
          But Fansten, to his credit, never allows the story to
          slip past the point of plausibility. Truffaut, for all
          his love of children, was rigorously unsentimental about
          them, and so is Fansten.  His characters confront their
          ever-mounting challenges in a spirit of clinical
          amorality. The end justifies all means, no matter how
          bizarrely far-fetched they may be. These aren't tender,
          big-hearted innocents; they're practical-minded and
          sublimely devious, and the love putting one over on the
          adult

              Throughout all this, Martin is more a shell-shocked
          observer than a participant. He's the movie's suffering
          center, and Fansten never allows us to forget the young
          boy's pain. Martin, who has the woebegone eyes of a lost
          spaniel, is the source of the film's soulful melancholy;
          his emotional loss, and his confusion, anchor the
          movie's spirited sense of comic play and give it depth.

              Fansten has created a world where adults are the
          "other," the enemy. And, in the course of telling his
          story, he examines the secret bond of children, the
          defiant us-against-them mentality that seems part play
          and part genuine warfare.genuine warfare. What they're
          protecting, Fansten suggests, is their own, uncorrupted,
          pre-adult view of life. Childhood is their paradise, and
          they've taken up arms, so to speak, to preserve it.
          There's an obstinate ferocity in their attempts to
          defend Martin, and Fansten doesn't soften it. His view
          of children is cleareyed; he acknowledges both their
          innocence and their latent cruelty. That, as it turns
          out, is this shrewdly hilarious movie's most salient
          virtue. © 1999 The Washington Post Company
          --------------------------------------------------------

          3. Le grand chemin - S-VT 1931

          ƒt* 1959.  Louis, 9 ans, est envoy* pour les vacances en
          Bretagne, chez un couple d'artisans, Pelo et Marcelle.
          En compagnie d'une amie de son ‰ge, Martine, le peit
          parisien d*couvrira les jeux de la campagne, mais il
          sera aussi le t*moin, et l'enjeu, des tensions qui
          d*chirent les adultes, donnant ainsi ˆ Pelo et Marcelle
          l'occasion d'une remise en question de leur vie.

          Le grand chemin is set in one of those villages in rural
          France where, from the church steeple, all you see is
          another village and church steeple across a wide, lush
          valley. Upon arriving in the village (circa 1960) a
          frightened, Parisian ten-year-old, Louis (Antoine
          Hubert, son of the director), sees a rabbit clubbed and
          skinned, hardly a genial prelude.

          As in My Life as a Dog, the child's perspective
          dominates; here, however, there is nothing poetic about
          him, no soliloquies, no na•ve existentializing about
          fate. The child is passive, almost frail; when he is
          "farmed out' to the village by his pregnant mother (who
          has been abandoned by the father), he expresses his
          feelings by crying into her dress at a bus stop.

          His new society in the village is also not so sweet;
          there are no funny rural eccentrics, unless one counts
          the long-winded cur* and his-long limbed walks around
          the village, prayerbook in hand, like some cop on a
          spiritual beat. In his adopted ''home" (overlooking a
          cemetery) the child is treated well by his mother's
          girlfriend Marcelle (An*mone), but is terrified by her
          surly, alcoholic, carpenter husband PeloÑthe dour
          veteran actor, Richard Bohringer.

          The toughest scene in the film (and because of its
          realism, the toughest in many a recent film) involves
          marital rape, which the child overhears while clutching
          his bed sheets at night. This terrible scene is pivotal.
          Set in a nursery filled with toysÑwhich had been locked
          up, as in a Dickens novel, ever since Marcelle and Pelo
          lost an infant sonÑthe assault begins the convincing
          changes traced in the film's second half. Louis responds
          less passively to his terror than we expect, and Hubert
          makes credible the way the child's sensitivity works a
          small domestic miracle. Homes are seen honestly in this
          film, with all their warts; accordingly, its final
          sentiment is earned.

          Le grand chemin charms by quiet significance. Hubert
          manages to insinuate all ages and relations into the
          screenplay: the celibate priest, the widow (an old woman
          who constantly waters and weeds the grave of her
          husband), children at different stages of development,
          marriages starting, marriages barely surviving,
          marriages broken up. This survey of life, backed up by
          inclusion of the cemetery in many shots, provides a
          symbolic resonance to the title; the grand highway
          involves a pilgrimage.

          Two elements are overdone: the child's active
          questioning of Pelo and Marcelle about their dead son
          and his sexually wild, little girl companion, Martine
          (Vanessa Guedge). The plot calls for some
          precociousness, but both examples seem excessive. One
          scene where Martine sings arias for the Queen of the
          Night rang untrue. But Hubert gives her some
          delightfully naughty lines, especially on the church
          roof where she uses the steeple gutters so grotesquely
          and comically that it might make one of the gargoyles
          blush. If he could take his eyes off the view.

          The French, like the Italians, deal with their religion,
          nuns, priests, church, God, heaven with humor. Unlike in
          the U.S., they feel that a priest is only a human doing
          his best in his chosen field and not an angel sent by a
          mysterious God. They are more up tight about violence
          than they are about sex.

          Directed by Jean-Louis Hubert, the real-life father of
          Antoine.

          --------------------------------------------------------

          4.  Milou en mai  / May FoolsÊ-  A film by Louis Malle
          (1932-1995), 1989 - Personal copy  (Video no longer
          available)

          A Preliminary Note on the events of May Õ68

          They were two distinct groups with distinct motives and
          aspirations involved. On the one hand, there were the
          young people (students and others). Their social and
          economic importance had massively increased in France as
          it had in most other Western countries as a result of
          postwar demographic changes and of influence. The
          phenomenon of 'youth culture' had arisen in France, the
          United States and elsewhere, but changes in social
          relations had not occurred at the same time. On the
          other hand, there were the 'workers' who had not
          benefited as much as they felt they ought to have done
          from France's postwar economic success, particularly the
          expansion recorded in the ten years since De Gaulle had
          returned to power, either through an appropriate rise in
          their living standards or through new styles of
          management or labor relations. The analysis of the May
          Events in the cinema and elsewhere frequently turned on
          the relationship between these two groups and on the
          mise en sc*ne of what have been called the new social
          actors

          Synopsis

          The portrait of an upper middle-class provincial family
          living in Southern France at the height of the lovely
          month of May 1968. While Parisians are rioting in the
          streets, the wealthy, patrician Vieuzacs gather at their
          ancestral home to bury the family matriarch. Mirroring
          the social revolution occurring in the French capital,
          the Vieuzac clan stir up trouble between the generations
          and, in the process, unconsciously destroy the last
          vestiges of their aristocratic way of life.

          While national news can be heard on the radio, including
          De Gaulle's message and word of his departure from
          Paris, some family members want immediately to discuss
          what will happen to the estate. While waiting for the
          striking grave diggers, the group leaves the corpse in
          the house and goes out for a picnic. The sad family
          situation begins to seem like a party or a provincial
          version of the free-love and marijuana-smoking fun going
          on in Paris.

          Milou en Mai is, of course, a satire as well as a
          pantheist ode to nature. Milou quotes Voltaire: "J'ai
          d*cid* dÕ*tre heureux, parce que c'est bon pour la
          sant*." (I've decided to be happy, because it's good for
          your health.) Of course, are exalted the liberties of
          1968, namely the rejection of sexual taboos. There are
          moments that remind us of classic scenes from Renoir's
          The Rules of the Games (1939), one of the most beautiful
          scene is, as in RenoirÕs, an outdoor picnic. Yet, all
          this is caricatured: every character is a sort of
          archetype: Milou the sexagenarian in communion with
          nature; his niece, the lesbian Claire, who brought in
          her girlfriend; his sister, the doctor's wife, the
          reactionary little bourgeoise, ready to frolic in the
          hay with her former boyfriend while her husband-doctor
          is away; the pontificating journalist overcome by the
          events and whose wife of the moment is a de luxe hippy;
          there's also Pierre-Alain, Georges's son, the exalted
          student...

          Louis Malle is a keen observer of French society and the
          ÒvaluesÓ reflecting the hedonistic bent of what we call
          la France profonde (the "deep France", to copy the
          American simile), le fric (money), la bouffe (food), la
          "baise" (sex ? a word that must not to be confused with
          un baiser - a kiss). WeÕll note also MalleÕs
          environmental concerns and the importance that he gave
          to the scenery and the countryside.

          Malle is also a satirist with provocative tendencies,
          leading to caricatures and clich*s.

          To be noted as well the influence of his co-scenarist,
          Jean-Claude Carri*re, with his Bu­elian heritage (fable
          and onirism)

          Review

          Louis Malle's "May Fools" has a quality of mellow
          contentment. You feel in its images a sense of sunny
          embrace, a feeling of comfort and leisure and warm
          sensuality. You absorb it, the way you do the dappled
          light in the paintings of Renoir, or a clear, vivid day
          with a blanket laid out in the grass and wine rising in
          your blood. You bask in it.

          The movie is Malle's homage to those pleasures we think
          of as particularly French, and in making it, he is
          working out of the most affectionate, the most humane
          part of his nature; it's his most easy-flowing,
          bountiful movie. The film's spirit is one of
          affectionate satire, and its style suggests a
          commingling of Chekhov and Mozart and both Renoirs --
          the filmmaker, Jean, and his father, Pierre Auguste.

          The story it tells is projected against the events of
          May 1968 when, all over France, a wave of radicalism
          threatened to leave sweeping social changes in its wake.
          The film's setting, though, is far away from the strikes
          and the riots and the free-thinking students who led
          them. At the rather ramshackle old country estate where
          the movie takes place, these upheavals are threatening
          only in a distant, abstract way. Life for Milou (Michel
          Piccoli), the amiable older son who presides over the
          house with help of the family matriarch (Paulette
          Dubost) and their meager staff, is as it has been for
          most of his 60-odd years -- peaceful, unstructured and
          geared to the rhythms of nature. But with the mother's
          death and the gathering of the clan for her funeral,
          Milou's world teeters as precariously on the edge of
          revolution as the rest of the country. Everywhere,
          change is in the air.

          Though Malle and his co-writer, Jean-Claude Carri*re,
          draw these comparisons for us, they don't force them.
          Most of the information about what's happening back in
          the city comes by way of broadcasts on a battered old
          radio that sits irreverently close to where the body of
          the old woman has been laid out, or from members of the
          family as they arrive. For years, most of the family has
          remained distant from the family home, paying little
          attention to the estate or Milou, its ne'er-do-well
          custodian. Each one, though, has his own designs on the
          place. Most of them are united in the feeling that for
          too long Milou has benefited from their generosity. His
          daughter, Camille (Miou-Miou), the pampered wife of a
          doctor and mother of three, begins immediately to go
          through her grandmother's jewelry, while his brother,
          Georges (Michel Duchaussoy), and their niece, Claire
          (Dominique Blanc), plot the sale of the house and the
          division of the profits.

          Milou, meanwhile, looks on with horror, powerless as his
          way of life is systematically dismantled. Yet in the
          face of all this, a kind of giddiness overwhelms him.
          When Georges's son, Pierre-Alain (Renaud Danner), shows
          up, full of radical ardor and tales of a new order where
          people make love openly in the streets, "just for the
          pleasure of it," Milou's worries melt away. And the
          others are swept up in euphoria as well.

          Suddenly, new alliances are being forged. The casual
          flirting that Milou has indulged in with Lily (Harriet
          Walter), Georges's younger, liberal-seeming English
          wife, takes on a new urgency. Claire's lover (Rozenn Le
          Tallec) takes up with Pierre-Alain, and Claire with the
          randy trucker who gave Pierre-Alain a lift. For a
          moment, they all lose their inhibitions. Picnicking
          under a tree, they drink wine and smoke pot and let
          their fantasies soar. And in that idyllic instant,
          something new seems to be dawning.

          These sun-licked afternoon scenes have a dreamy lyricism
          and beauty; they're masterful in a quiet, understated
          way. Malle and Carri*re poke gentle fun at the fatuity
          of this bourgeois play-acting, but they don't begrudge
          the characters their kicks. There's a marvelous scene in
          which the group, flying high from their indulgences and
          all that talk of free love, treat themselves to a
          rambunctious conga (which just happens to snake around
          the mother's body). And another in which Claire, as the
          militant front line in the new sexual revolution, takes
          off her blouse (in front of everyone) and offers her
          body for experimentation.

          Malle has called "May Fools" a "divertimento," and
          throughout, his touch remains musical, delicate and
          precise. All the elements -- including Renato Berta's
          luxuriant images and Stephane Grappelli's kicky jazz
          score -- are kept in perfect balance. The acting too. At
          the center of it all is Piccoli's Milou, the rumpled
          hedonist, and this graceful, resonant actor gives him
          just the right touch of charming laziness and
          self-absorption. Piccoli is marvelously ingratiating in
          the role.

          Milou has never quite grown up, and there's a paunchy
          innocence in his simplicity that makes him seem
          compatible to the new shifts in the culture. He's a
          natural flower child. Ultimately, though, what he comes
          to represent is the resilience of tradition and the
          status quo. After the storm clouds of radicalism have
          passed, very little of real consequence has changed. And
          earlier in his career, this might have provoked rancor
          in Malle. But there's a generous acceptance in the
          director's point of view. With age (and perhaps the
          distance of living part time in America), he seems to
          have come to peaceful -- though clear-eyed -- terms with
          his Gallic roots. The last section of the movie falters;
          at just the point when we need some resolution for his
          ideas, some sense of closure, the picture dribbles away
          into vagueness. But the movie's spirit is infectious;
          its effects are the same as those of Grappelli's music
          -- it makes your limbs hang looser, your soul unclench.
          If this isn't a great movie, it's a radiant,
          pleasurable, nearly great one.  - Hal Hinson

          Another Review

          The month in which Louis -Malle's "May Fools" ("Milou en
          Mai") takes place isn't just a any old May. It's May,
          1968, when, for a few chaotic weeks, French society
          seemed on the verge of remaking itself Ñradically,
          comprehensively, and for good. Students were rioting:
          ripping up the ancient, narrow streets around the
          Sorbonne to create barricades of paving stones;
          occupying buildings that represented to them the
          official culture of which the French are so inordinately
          proud; filling the air with insistent demands for the
          reform of the national educational system, for the fall
          of a the conservative government of President Charles de
          Gaulle and Premier Georges Pompidou, or simply for
          anarchy. Seizing on the momentum of the students'
          protests, the unions and the parties of the left took
          the opportunity to bring the country's normal commercial
          life to a standoff. Most of France went on strike: banks
          closed, deliveries stopped, trains didn't run ; gas for
          cars was almost impossible to come by.

          This amazing convulsion signalled to its participants
          the beginning of a revolution, yet many ordinary
          Frenchmen perhaps the majorityÑexperienced it as a novel
          kind of entertainment: an unscheduled holiday, a few
          weeks of roughing it without the comforts (or the
          tedium) of bourgeois routine. They had the thrill, too,
          of feeling that great drama was unfolding around them,
          that the everyday reality of France was turning into the
          ultimate New Wave movieÑheady, intense, exciting even
          when it wasn't as quite coherent, like something by
          Godard. (In our terms, France in May, '68, was a bizarre
          hybrid of the stark confrontation of the 1968 Democratic
          Convention and the idyllic noble-savagery of Woodstock.)
          When the dust cleared, De Gaulle was still in power, and
          France, with its usual unshakable self-confidence, went
          on about its business.

          The characters in "May Fools" are far removed from the
          stirring street theatre of May, 68, but, like everyone
          else in France, they're affected by it nonetheless. All
          the action in this film takes place in and around a
          rather shabby estate somewhere in the countryside: a
          big, musty old house stuffed with antiques of dubious
          value and surrounded by land that was once a vineyard
          and is now just land. The lord of this spacious and
          useless property is Milou (Michel Piccoli), a genial man
          in his sixties. He has the look of someone for whom life
          has always been serenely uncomplicated. Under his
          extremely casual supervision, the family's fortunes have
          run downhill, but his relatives don't bother him much;
          they're scattered all over, escapees from the rural
          boredom that suits Milou so well, and they're glad to
          let him take care of his aged mother, the rambling
          house, and the unproductive land. Contentedly free from
          scrutiny, Milou lives the life of a lazy country
          sensualist: he keeps his bees, browns in the sun, and
          gropes the housekeeper. (When the roof needs fixing, he
          sells a Corot.) On the sunny May day when the story
          begins, his mother dies taking her last breath while she
          is slumped on a bench where children's dolls sit and
          Milou summons the rest of the family for the funeral and
          the reading of the will. As the relatives arrive,
          bringing cars, kids, lovers, and their own noisy
          personal agendas into the peaceful oasis of Milou's
          little world, the movie starts to take shape. There's a
          sense that things are about to change, both on the large
          scale of French society and on the infinitely smaller
          one of Milou's life; everything that has been allowed to
          bask, unchallenged, in happy inertia is going to be
          shaken up, forced to account for itself.

          Malle and his co-writer, Jean-Claude Carri*re, don't
          push the parallels too far. They use the upheaval of
          May, '68, very deftly: it intrudes on their comedy like
          distant thunder on a sunny day, and the threatened
          downpour of Meaning never develops - we get a cooling
          shower of light ironies instead. The movie sometimes
          evokes Chekhov (especially "The Cherry Orchard" and
          "Uncle Vanya") and somtimes the Jean Renoir of "The
          Rules of the Game." (Milou's mother is played by
          Paulette Dubost, who, fifty-one years ago, was the
          flirtatious maid Lisette in Renoir's film.) But it
          doesn't - really strive to be great. Malle and Carri*re
          keep the tone airy and relaxed. "May Fools" just bounces
          along to the ???? musical rythm of its remarkable score,
          composed and played by the eighty-two-year-old jazz
          violinist Stephane Grappelli; the movie, like the music,
          has a delicate, joyful swing to it.

          And the revolution that is apparently in progress all
          over France is part of the texture. Everyone who arrives
          at Milou's house has been closer to the events than he
          has, and has something to tell him about the historic
          turmoil beyond the boundaries of his estate. He listens,
          although he isn't terribly interested in the outside
          world: he doesn't even own a televisionÑonly an ancient
          radio, which is invariably switched on by someone else.
          His daughter, Camille (Miou-Miou), turns up fuming about
          the demonstrating factory workers she had to drive
          through to get to the house. A savagely uptight
          bourgeoise, with a doctor husband and three chidren, she
          believes that what the protesters need is "a firm hand"
          to slap them down; speaking of her grand-mother's death,
          she proclaims, inanely, "The revolution did her in." His
          brother, Georges (Michel Duchaussoy), a journalist, is a
          news junkie, who keeps his ears glued to the radio and
          talks only about politics. (He's a Gaullist, so he's
          nervous.) The arrival of Milou's niece, Claire
          (Dominique Blanc)Ñshe's the daughter of his late
          sisterÑis delayed by the gas shortage. Late in the
          movie, Georges's son, a student named Pierre-Alain
          (Renaud Danner), drops in, having hitched a ride from
          Paris; he gives the family a fervent, lyrical eyewitness
          account of the revolution in the streets of the capital.
          "You can't know what's going on," he says. "It's
          completely new." Camille and Georges argue with him;
          Claire's young lover, Marie-Laure (Rozenn Le Tallec), is
          transported by Pierre-Alain and his tales of heroism,
          and becomes an instant convert to revolution (and
          heterosexuality). Milou doesn't look very attentive
          until the conversation turns to the sexual revolution.
          Pierre-Alain announces, "At last, people are making love
          for the pleasure of it," and the old satyr is all ears.
          He has been flirting seriously with Georges's young
          second wife, a hippie-ish Londoner named Lily (Harriet
          Walter); this is just the sort of talk he likes to hear.

          The movie's central joke is that this aging, apolitical
          landed gentleman is in some sense an embodiment of the
          spirit of May, '68Ñnot an enemy of the revolution but an
          unlikely cornrade. (At one point, he belts out a
          full-throated rendition of the "Internationale.") He
          responds instinctively to the irresponsible, anarchic
          aspects of the students' revolt: he has lived his whole
          life with the sole purpose of remaining a childÑfree to
          take his modest pleasures where he finds them, in the
          open air and the cool, familiar rooms of his boyhood
          home. When the other members of the family, led by his
          greedy daughter, express their eagerness to sell the
          property and divide up the contents of the house, Milou
          throws a tantrum. "I want to die here!" he shouts. "It's
          my right! No one can rob me of mychildhood!" His
          innocence could be pathetic, but it never is. Piccoli,
          in one of the best performances of his long career, is
          so vigorous and radiantly good-humored that we can't
          feel sorry for him; and Malle, although he treats Milou
          with some irony, is always unmistakably on his hero's
          side.

          This sympathy is a large part of the picture's charm;
          sometimes, though, that charm feels a bit too easy. When
          "May Fools" is at its best, it seems to vindicate the
          childlike spirit of Milou and to give the youthful ardor
          of May, '68, a poetic glow. Malle aims for, and mostly
          achieves, a graceful, drifting style, a mood of blissful
          sun-dazed inconsequence. When his touch falters, as it
          does in a few sequences toward the end, the movie verges
          on triviality: its concerns seem too small, its humor
          seems too cozily "Gallic," its point of view seems too
          mild and noncommittal. Its refusal to come to much could
          be taken, perhaps, as an ironic reflection of the
          ultimate lack of consequence ofÊ the May '68,
          revoltÑFrance returned to the (slightly reformed) status
          quo with alarming speed and efficiency. But that's
          strictly an intellectual justification: the film doesn't
          have to blow away like dust just because the revolution
          did.

          As determinedly minor as "May Fools" is, it's enjoyable
          throughout. It's all moments, lovely flashes of
          intelligence and observation, and some are exhilarating:
          a closeup tracking shot of Milou riding his bike through
          the overgrown fields; a scene in which, for the
          entertainment of a grandchild, he catches crayfish by
          sticking his hands in a stream and letting the creatures
          clamp onto his fingertips; a beautiful scene in which
          Milou, on the night after his motherÕs death, cries
          quietly in his bed and a small owl appears on his
          windowsill; a leisurely picnic on the grass, under a
          spreading tree, with the characters sprawled in a wide
          circle, and Milou announcing, a little drunkenly, "I
          haven't felt so young in thirty yearsÑlong live the
          revolution!" The gentle sort of liberation that Louis
          Malle proposes in "May Fools" seems, for an instant, to
          bridge the gap between 1938Ñwhen Milou felt young, and
          Renoir made his Popular Front film about the real
          Revolution, "La Marseillaise," and Grappelli was hitting
          his stride - and 1968, and even the gap between 1968 and
          our not very hopeful present. In this picture we can
          almost hear Malle, as he strolls through his memories of
          that May, singing to himself "Allons, enfants," very
          softly, a tender anthem.  - Terence Rafferty. © The New
          Yorker 66: 73-75 (July 16, 1990)

          Some Questions:

          1. The English title, May Fools, in fact, seems to
          better characterize the film than the original French
          Milou en mai. In what sense?
          2. May Fools is, of course, a satire as well as an ode
          to nature. What are some of the pantheistic notations
          that you have retained?
          3. May fools  is a film that reveals a great deal about
          we call in FrenchÊ la France profonde i.e. the
          quintessential of France itself, which can be summed up
          in three words? Three slang French words, FBB for
          short.Ê Which three words in proper English?
          --------------------------------------------------------

          5. La vie est un long fleuve tranquille (Life is a Long
          Quiet River), 1987. S-VT 3397

              Deux familles, les Le Quesnoy et les Groseille,
          n'auraient jamais pens* se conna”tre, l'une *tant
          bourgeoise et l'autre prol*taire. La vengeancce d'une
          infirmi*re humili*e va pourtant les forcer ˆ se
          m*langer, et cette rencontre va avoir des cons*quences
          tout ˆ fait inattendues...

              An understated social comedy about a nurse who takes
          revenge on her indifferent lover, a married doctor, by
          switching two newborn babies. The narrative picks up 12
          years later, as the two radically different families
          adjust to the severe changes when the children are
          returned to their rightful parents. Chatiliez dissects
          the mores of the two families, the upper middle class Le
          Quesnoys and the nefarious, criminal Groseilles.

          A Film Review by Rita Kempley

              The French, who don't like anybody very much, not
          even each other, understandably went bonkers for "Life
          Is a Long Quiet River." A sour little social diatribe by
          first-time filmmaker Etienne Chatiliez, this tale of two
          families, a nurse scorned and the gynecologist who done
          her wrong, wrong, wrong was a moneymaker that won four
          C*sars (French for Oscar).

              Heretofore famed for making hamburger commercials,
          Chatiliez brings a salesman's cynicism to this harsh
          comedy of social mechanics and class rivalry. You can
          practically see him twisting his whiskers as he plays
          with the wretches caught up in this xenophobic thesis on
          what counts most in a child's upbringing -- heredity or
          environment? Never mind all those twin studies that
          indicate it's in our genes; Chatiliez says our fate is
          all in whether we are raised by porky Algerian layabouts
          or prim French bourgeois.

              Written by Chatiliez and Florence Quentin, the story
          turns on the machinations of Josette, a nurse who
          decides to get even with her neglectful lover by
          switching two babies the lecherous old alcoholic has
          just delivered. Twelve years pass, Dr. Mavial has just
          lost his wife and Josette expects that he will marry her
          as promised. But at graveside, the malevolent Mavial
          says of his wife, "Je ne pourrai jamais la remplacer."
          "I will never be able to replace her." So Josette posts
          two letters -- one to the trashy Groseilles and the
          other to the proper Le Quesnoys.

              The Le Quesnoys, a preposterously perfect family,
          are horrified to learn that their daughter, Bernadette,
          is really inferior material and that their real son,
          Momo (Benoit Magimel), is a hard-drinking purse
          snatcher. They decide toadopt Momo and to hide the truth
          from Bernadette. The Groseilles agree to relinquish both
          children for a large sum of money, which they quickly
          spend on tacky outfits, junk food and hair-coloring
          products. Seeing their plight, Momo pawns his new
          family's silver and shares his newfound wealth with his
          old family.

              One day Momo brings some of the repressed Le Quesnoy
          kids to visit the Groseilles, and the petit-bourgeois
          are delighted with the carefree lifestyle of the uncouth
          immigrant family. The eldest son is seduced by the
          Groseilles' eldest daughter, a slut, and the others take
          to drinking beer. Inevitably, the Le Quesnoys are
          destroyed because "Momo can't escape the dirty, nasty
          habits he's picked up."

              Except for Bernadette, who has a nervous breakdown
          when Momo tells her she was born of le pond scum, there
          are no sympathetic characters whatsoever. But there are
          some wonderfully insipid performances by H*l*ne Vincent
          and Andr* Wilms as Madame and Monsieur Le Quesnoy.
          Vincent, best known for her theatrical accomplishments,
          is ludicrous perfection as the ultimate French wife and
          busy mother, who spends her free time aiding a
          pop-singing priest with his church hoote nannies.

              The Groseilles are ethnic caricatures, greasy fatsos
          grossly played. Christine Pignet weighs in most
          prominently as Madame Groseille, a mole-faced Gallic
          tugboat with the dimensions of Roseanne Barr. Chatiliez
          and his colleagues leave no doubt about it, thin people
          make better parents. Civilization is buckling under the
          combined tonnage of overeating and bad manners.  © The
          Washington Post
          --------------------------------------------------------

          6. La Femme Nikita (1990) Luc Besson  S-VT 4066

                 In the new French movie La Femme Nikita, the
          Pygmalion legend takes on a perverse twist: a sexy,
          scruffy, homicidal waif goes to a secret-agent charm
          school and comes out as a high-heeled government
          assassin. A box-office hit in France, Nikita reaffirms
          the ability of French directors to make preposterously
          stylish movies about untamed women. Ever since Roger
          Vadim made sex symbols of Brigitte Bardot and Jane Fonda
          in the 1960s, French film-makers have been playing with
          the hemline between art and exploitation. Nikita is a
          thriller about a wild child of the streets who is turned
          into a gamine killing machine.  In the guise of an
          action movie, it unfolds as a thinly veiled sexual
          fantasy about a seductive slave--a punk Pretty Woman
          with a licence to kill.

                 The story opens with a bloody shoot out as police
          intercept a gang that is robbing a pharmacy.  Nikita
          (Anne Parillaud), a junkie desperate for a fix, crouches
          in a corner.  As a cop comforts her, she shoots him in
          cold blood. The courts sentence Nikita to death.  But
          the police fake her execution and offer her a new
          identity--if she agrees to be trained as a hit woman for
          the state.  At first, she lashes out at her instructors
          like a vicious animal. But her ruthless supervisor, Bob
          (Tcheky Karyo), breaks her rebel spirit and teaches her
          discipline.  Meanwhile, Amande, a make-over artist
          played by veteran actress Jeanne Moreau, schools her in
          the feminine graces.

                    After years of incarceration, Nikita goes out
          into the world as a professional killer.  She falls in
          love with Marco (Jean-Hugues Anglade), a benign
          supermarket checkout clerk.  She tries to keep her job a
          secret from him.  But as she gives in to what Amande
          calls "feminine fragility," she finds it increasingly
          difficult to carry out her assignments.

                    Nikita's sexual politics are outrageous.
          Director Luc Besson, 32, makes an amusing fetish of
          putting huge guns in his heroine's delicate hands.
          Sometimes, however, the degradation gets all too
          literal.  In one scene, sheathed in a black mini-dress,
          Nikita escapes a gang of killers by slithering down a
          restaurant garbage chute into a trash bin. Weeping, she
          walks home barefoot in the rain, her high heels in her
          hands, her stockings artfully laddered and smeared with
          blood.  Despite the movie's cartoon-like sexism, it is
          hard not to be dazzled by Besson's technique.  The
          action scenes are rivetting.  The director's visual
          flair makes Nikita the most stylish French thriller
          since Diva (1981).  And Parillaud performs with
          startling intensity--even when Besson treats her less
          like an actress than a model being put through her
          paces.  Both avenger and victim, Nikita is the latest
          prototype in France's search for the ultimate femme
          fatale. © Brian D. Johnson, Maclean's, April 8, 1991
          v104 n14 p47(1)  Rev. grade: A.

           L'histoire de Nikita

                 "Elle a dix-neuf ans, ne s'entend pas avec ses
          parents et n'aime pas ce monde. Cette jeune fille
          surnomm*e Nikita est une "ado"  [adolescente]  comme
          tant d'autres, un peu plus d*sesp*r*e peut-*tre... Et
          puis tout bascule tr*s vite dans sa jeune vie : c'est la
          rencontre avec une bande de copains, avec eux elle boit,
          fume, essaie la dope et la descente commence.  En
          quelques mois, Nikita est en manque, d*truite, pr*te ˆ
          tout.  La voilˆ m*l*e ˆ un casse de pharmacie qui tourne
          au drame. Sans m*me s'en rendre compte, elle descend un
          flic d'une balle dans la t*te. Tribunal. Peine maximale:
          trente ans. Prison. Lˆ, on lui administre une piq*re.
          Pour se d*barrasser de cette ado enrag*e? Au contraire,
          pour l'utiliser, pour canaliser cette rage et la mettre
          au service des basses besognes de l'Etat! Au r*veil, Bob
          est ˆ son chevet, il lui propose cette "chance." Nikita
          n'a pas le choix, elle accepte.  A partir de lˆ, trois
          ann*es durant, les missions s'encha”nent, toujours plus
          difficiles, plus violentes. Trois ann*es qui vont faire
          d'un chat furieux un berger allemand robotis*, pr*t ˆ
          ob*ir aux pires ordres d'un Bob qui a su s*duire la
          rebelle . . . Nikita tient le coup. Mais enfoui tout au
          fond d'elle-m*me, il y a encore un coeur de femme, qui
          va battre un jour pour Marco, le jeune type tr*s doux
          qui l'aime et l'accepte telle qu'elle est. . C'est
          peut-*tre ce qui va d*r*gler la belle m*canique mise au
          point par Bob:  Nilkita prend conscience petit ˆ petit
          de l'absurdit* de sa situation, du chantage dont elle
          est l'objet et du cynisme du syst*me qui la pi*ge. Alors
          elle se r*volte. Mais sa seule vraie chance de s'en
          sortir, c'est une solution radicale: quitter ˆ la fois
          Bob et Marco."  Tir* de:  L'histoire de Nikita,  Paris:
          Bordas, 1993.

          Addendum: A ten-minute video clip of that of the
          American remake of La Femme Nikita, Point of no Return
          (John Badham, 1993) focusing on the respective treatment
          of Nikita (Anne Parillaud) and beauty consultant, Amande
          (Jeanne Moreau) with their American counterparts,
          Bridget Fonda and Anne Bancroft. "Deux choses sont sans
          limites, la f*minit* et les moyens d'en abuser." "Two
          things have no limits, advises Amande: femininity and
          the means of taking advantage of it."
          --------------------------------------------------------

          7.  La Haine (Hate) (1995)  Mathieu Kassovitz - S-VT
          3604

          La Haine,un constat radical sur le foss* s*parant la
          police des jeunes des banlieues.

          Bref historique:
          La banlieue sous les feux de la "haine"
          * 7 D*cembre 1986. A Paris, au cours d'une manifestation
          *tudiante, un jeune beur, Malik Oussekine, est
          s*v*rement "bouscul*" par les CRS. Il meurt quelques
          heures apr*s.
          * 9 Ans plus tard, s'inspirant de cet *v*nement,
          Kassovitz r*alise "La Haine", qui raconte 24 heures de
          la vie d'une cit* apr*s une bavure polici*re.
          * 7 juin 1995. A Noisy-le-Grand, Belkassem Belhabib, 24
          ans, se tue au guidon d'une moto vol*e, alors qu'il est
          pris en chasse par les CRS.
          * Cet *t*, dans les banlieues fran*aises, plusieurs
          altercations ont eu lieu entre jeunes et forces de
          l'ordre.

          Source: Site Web de La Haine:
          http://www.virgin.fr/virgin/html/urban/haine/haine.html

                 Hate (La Haine) is the second feature film from
          award-winning 25-year-old French actor turned
          writer/director Mathieu Kassovitz, who snagged a Most
          Promising Young Actor C*sar the same year ('94) he
          wrapped this bleak little social commentary. A swift,
          ruthless, black-and-white polemic on the decaying state
          of French race relations, "Hate" plays like equal parts
          Spike Lee and MTV, and packs the single most vicious
          parting punch of any film this critic's seen since
          "Reservoir Dogs". Kassovitz's main characters are a
          racially diverse trio of poor, unemployed Parisian
          housing project kids, integrated mainly by their shared
          aimlessness: Motormouth Arab drug dealer Sa•d,
          politically conscious black boxer Hubert and literally
          "Hate"- full Jewish thug Vinz.

                  Prowling through the remains of last night's
          riot, they squabble with local cops, score and smoke
          pot, and endlessly debate pop culture trivia like the
          exact calibre ofthe gun in Lethal Weapon.They also try
          to decide whether or not to use that very real gun Vinz
          recently found to avenge the hospitalization of another
          friend who was beaten while in police custody -- so
          badly he might yet die. Juggling realism and artifice
          with fluid skill, Kassovitz balances his roster of
          expected 'hood movie mainstays -- brandished weapons and
          slang-laden verbal abuse set to the incessant pulse of
          passing boom-boxes -- with inspired touches: The
          all-inclusive title credits sequence, played out over
          vide footage of an actual riot, allows him later to
          reinforce the movie's ending by letting it just suddenly
          end. No further credits. Not to mention the sporadic
          (but welcome) infusions of true Gallic weirdness. Only a
          French filmmaker, for example, would stage a heated
          discussion in a public washroom, then allow it to be
          interrupted by a geriatric dwarf, who recounts a long
          anecdote about how a friend of his once died while
          trying to take a dump -- let alone punctuate another by
          breaking loose with a sudden, breathtaking crane shot,
          swooping around a tenement courtyard, as an aspiring DJ
          scratches NWA's "Fuck Tha Police" together with Edith
          Piaf's "Non, rien de rien, je ne regrette rien." It's
          crazed moments like these that make up for a certain
          heavy-handedness in the narrative, as embodied by Hate's
          bookend quote, comparing France to the man in the old
          joke who jumps off the top of a skyscraper -- with every
          floor he passes, he tries to console himself by saying:
          "So far, so good. So far, so good. So far, so good."  As
          Vinz notes, however, it's not how you fall that matters.
          And what undercuts Kassovitz's otherwise stunning vision
          is that he has no apparent theories on where his
          beleaguered generation is likely to land. © Reviewed by
          Keith Simanton
          ---------------

8. La vie r*v*e des anges  DVD 0177 + personal copy

          La vie r*v*e des anges est u n film important qui
          d*peint la vie de deux jeunes Fran*aises dÕorigine
          modeste luttant contre quelque chose de plus grand
          quÕelles-m*mes - les passions, la hi*rarchie sociale et
          *conomique, le pass* -  dans lÕEurope post-industrielle,
          moderne.

          Repr*sentant la France aux Oscars de 1998, La vie r*v*e
          des anges est une oeuvre dramatique port*e par la force
          de deux com*diennes et deux personnages. Elodie Bouchez
          (Isa) et Natacha R*gnier (Marie), qui furent justement
          r*compens*es par un double prix dÕinterpr*tation
          f*minine au 51*me festival de Cannes.

          Situ* ˆ Lille ˆ la fin des ann*es 90 et racont* dÕune
          mani*re lin*aire, le film poss*de une structure assez
          rigoureuse qui rel*ve dÕune s*rie de contrastes et de
          substitutions. Optimiste, brune et nomade, vivant de
          petits boulots et voyageant avec son sac ˆ dos, Isa
          suscite des souvenirs cin*matographiques, du moins dans
          les premi*es s*quences,  en rappelant le personnage
          errant de Mona dans "Sans toit ni loi"  de Varda. Par
          contre, plut™t mal dans sa peau, Marie fait contraste
          avec sa camarade. Critique et arr*t*e dans ses opinions,
          sujette aux exc*s de col*re et gouvern*e par des d*sirs
          quÕelle ne parvient pas ˆ articuler, elle habite depuis
          toujours Lille et sa banlieue. Amies de hasard, toutes
          les deux cherchent, souvent ˆ leur insu, ˆ vivre et
          r*aliser des r*ves. Pour Isa, il sÕagit de r*ussir sa
          vie sentimentale imm*diate, de cr*er un peu dÕharmonie
          autour dÕelle en vivant au jour lejour sans jamais
          couper les ponts avec le pass*. Pour Marie, quoiquÕelle
          ne le dise pas explicitement, il sÕagit de ÒsÕen
          sortirÓ, de quitter la vie de p*nurie m*diocre quÕelle a
          toujours connue et ce, au moyen dÕune liaison avec
          Chriss, un riche gar*on bourgeois qui, au fond, la
          m*prise. On la sent vivement marqu*e par une profonde
          mais tacite humiliation sociale qui, contracditoirement,
          la pousse ˆ rechercher ce qui lui fait mal et la
          r*pugne. CÕest justement une des r*ussites dans le jeu
          de R*gnier et dans le tournage de Zonca que de voir
          cette attraction-r*pulsion dans la gestuelle de Marie:
          elle communique dans les mouvements de son corps tout ce
          qui ne se dit que trop tard dans le film.

          Zonca organise et enrichit son oeuvre avec quelques
          relations de substitution et de r*p*tition. Isa et Marie
          squattent chez une dame bourgeoise et sa fille toutes
          les deux dans le coma ˆ lÕh™pital, victimes dÕun
          accident dÕauto.  Parasitaires, elles sÕaccaparent
          visiblement des traits des deux absentes. Isa,
          enfantine, lit et reprend le journal intime de la
          fillette alors que Marie met des robes de la m*re et
          cherche un bonheur impossible avec un type qui nÕest pas
          de son rang social.

          Le r*ve de sÕen sortir se dissiple brutalement ˆ la fin
          du film o*, au lieu dÕune ascension vers les anges il y
          a une chute vers le bas. La m*re est morte ˆ lÕh™pital
          et Marie - plaqu*e par Chriss ? se suicide en se
          laissant tomber plus quÕelle ne se jette dÕune fen*tre.
          Isa, qui a d*but* dans une fabrique de couture, finit,
          dans la derni*re s*quence du film, par travailler ˆ la
          cha”ne dans une fabrique aseptis*e dÕordinateurs. Zonca
          semble nous dire que lÕhistoire semble pr*te ˆ se
          r*p*ter avec les m*mes personnages: il sÕagirait tout
          simplememt de changer de d*cor en modernisant un peu.

          Ainsi, dans La vie r*v*e des anges, Zonca fait une
          critique sociale s*v*re ˆ la mani*re du Truffaut des 400
          coups, cÕest-ˆ-dire, il *vite le didactisme en faisant
          appel ˆ une identification forte avec la vie et le sort
          de jeunes personnages s*duisants pris dans un ensemble
          qui les d*passe. Il en r*sulte une oeuvre
          cin*matographique dÕune rare qualit*. - French Review
          --------------------------------------------------------

          9. Jean de Florette (122 min.) (1986)  Claude Berri
          [1733]  - From Marcel Pagnol's novel, L'eau des collines

              Provence, ann*es 20. Jean s'installe avec sa femme
          et sa fille Manon dans une ferme qu'il vient d'h*riter.
          Il veut y faire un *levage de lapins et cultiver des
          l*gumes. C'est sans compter sur la convoitise de ses
          voisins, le Papet et Ugolin, qui ont bouch* la pr*cieuse
          source de Jean avant son arriv*e.

                If you were to walk into the middle of "Jean de
          Florette," you would see a scene that might mislead you.
          In the middle of a drought, a farmer is desperate to
          borrow a mule to help haul water from a nearby spring.
          He asks his neighbor for the loan of the animal.  The
          neighbor is filled with compassion and sympathy, but
          simply cannot do without his mule, which he needs in
          order to farm his own land and provide for his own
          family. As the neighbor rejects the request, his face is
          so filled with regret you'd have little doubt he is one
          of the best of men.  Actually, he is a thief.  And what
          he is stealing is the joy, the hope and even the future
          of the man who needs the mule. "Jean de Florette" is a
          merciless study in human nature, set in Provence in the
          1920s.  It's the story of how two provincial French
          farmers systematically destroy the happiness of a man
          who comes out from the city to till the land.

                The man from the city is Jean de Florette, a
          hunchback tax collector played by G*rard Depardieu, that
          most dependable of French actors.  When he inherits a
          little land in Provence, he is only too happy to pack up
          his loyal wife and beautiful child and move to the
          country for a new beginning.  He wants to raise
          vegetables and rabbits on the land, which, according to
          the map, includes a fresh water spring. His neighbors
          have other ideas. The old local farmer and his son long
          have had their eyes on that land, and they realize if
          they can discourage the newcomer they can buy the land
          cheap. So they do what is necessary. They block the
          spring with concrete, conceal its location and wait to
          see what happens.

               At first, nothing much happens. There are steady
          rains, the vegetables grow and the rabbits multiply.
          Then comes the drought, and Monsieur Jean is forced to
          bring water from a neighboring well, using his mule and
          his own strength, turning himself into a beast of
          burden. From morning to night he plods back and forth
          under the burning sun, and his wife helps when she can,
          but the burden is too much and the land surely will die.
          It is then that he asks for the loan of Hugolin's mule,
          and is turned down.

                 The director, Claude Berri, does not tell this
          story as a melodrama; all of the motives are laid out
          well in advance, and it is perfectly clear what is going
          to happen. The point of the film is not to create
          suspense, but to capture the relentlessness of human
          greed, the feeling that the land is so important the
          human spirit can be sacrificed to it. To create this
          feeling, Berri stands well back with his camera. There
          are not a lot of highly charged closeups, to turn the
          story into a series of phony high points. Instead, so
          many of the shots are surrounded by the landscape and
          the sky, and there is one enormously dramatic set piece
          when the sky fills up with rain clouds, and the thunder
          roars and the rain seems about to come. And then, as
          Jean de Florette and his family run outside to feel it
          against their faces, the rain falls elsewhere and Jean
          shakes his fist at the heavens and asks God why he has
          been forsaken.

                But God has not double-crossed him, his neighbors
          have. And the enormity of their crime is underlined by
          the deliberate pace of this film, which is the first
          installment of a two-part epic. We realize here that
          human greed is patient, and can wait years for its
          reward. And meantime daily life goes on in Provence, and
          neighbors pass the time of day and regret that it is
          impossible to make a loan of a mule. © Roger Ebert
          --------------------------------------------------------

          10. Manon des Sources (1987) Claude Berri (113 min.) -
          1734

               Dix ans ont pass* depuis la mort de Jean de
          Florette. Manon a 18 ans et s'occupe de ses ch*vres dans
          les collines. L'heure est arriv*e de se venger contre le
          Papet, Ugolin et le village tout entier.

                Ten years have passed since the tragic events of
          Jean de Florette. Jean's daughter, Manon, is now a
          beautiful young shepherdhess, roaming the rugged
          Proven*al hills. The frustrated Ugolin is desesperately
          in love with the untamed woman. But Manon is repulsed by
          the hapless man's pursuit.  After cutting off the
          village's water supply, Manon appears in town to accuse
          the Soubeyrans of killing her father. Ugolin, remorseful
          over his role in her father's death, throws himself at
          her feet. But her public rejection of him proves too
          much to bear, and leads to a tragedy that nearly
          destroys C*sar. The old man's most heartbreaking moment
          comes when when he finally learns the shattering truth
          about Jean, the son of Florette.

          A Film Review by Roger Ebert

                 There is something to be said for a long story
          that unfolds with an inexorable justice. In recent
          movies we've become accustomed to stories that explode
          into dozens of tiny dim-witted pieces of action, all
          unrelated toeach other. Cars hurtle through the air,
          victims are peppered with gunshot holes, heroes spit out
          clever one-liners, and at the end of it all, what are we
          left with? Our hands close on empty air.

               "Manon of the Spring," which is the conclusion of
          the story that began with "Jean de Florette," is the
          opposite kind of movie. It moves with a majestic pacing
          over the affairs of four generations, demonstrating that
          the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.
          Although "Manon" is self-contained and can be understood
          without having seen "Jean de Florette," the full impact
          of this work depends on seeing the whole story, right
          from the beginning; only then does the ending have its
          full force.

               In "Jean de Florette," as you may recall, a young
          hunchbacked man from Paris (G*rard Depardieu) came with
          his wife and infant daughter to farm some land he had
          inherited in a rural section of France. The locals did
          not greet him kindly, and one of the local patriarchs
          (Yves Montand) sabotaged his efforts by blocking the
          spring that fed his land. The young man worked morning
          to night to haul water for the vegetables and rabbit
          foodthat he wished to grow, but in the end the effort
          killed him.  Montand and his worthless nephew (Daniel
          Auteuil) were then able to buy the land cheaply.

                  Montand's plot against the hunchback was
          incredibly cruel, but the movie was at pains to explain
          that Montand was not gratuitously evil. His most
          important values centered on the continuity of land and
          family, and in his mind his plot against Depardieu was
          justified by the need to defend the land against an
          "outsider." As "Manon of the Spring" opens, some years
          later, the unmarried and childless Montand is
          encouraging his nephew to find a woman and marry, so
          that the family name can be continued.

                 The nephew already has a bride in mind: the
          beautiful Manon (Emmanuelle B*art), daughter of the dead
          man, who tends goats on the mountain side and lives in
          poverty, although she has received a good education.
          Unfortunately for the nephew, he has a rival for her
          affections in the local school teacher. As the story
          unfolds, Manon discovers by accident that the nephew and
          his uncle blocked her father's spring. And when she
          accidentally discovers the source of the water for the
          whole village, she has her revenge by cutting off the
          water of those who killed her father.

                  All of this takes place with the implacable pace
          of a Greek tragedy. It sounds more melodramatic than it
          is, because the events themselves are not the issue
          here. The director, Claude Berri, has a larger point he
          wants to make, involving poetic justice on a scale that
          spans the generations. There are surprises at the end,
          which I do not choose to reveal, but they bring the
          whole story full circle, and Montand finally receives a
          punishment that is perfectly, even cruelly, suited to
          his crime.

                   Apart from its other qualities, "Manon of the
          Spring" announces the arrival of a strong and beautiful
          new actress from France, in Emmanuelle B*art. Already
          seen in some parts of the country in "Date With an
          Angel," a comedy in which she supplied the only
          redeeming virtue, she is very effective in this central
          role. This time she is sort of an avenging angel who
          punishes the old man and his nephew by giving them a
          glimpse of what could have been, for them, had they not
          been so cruel. © Roger Ebert
          --------------------------------------------------------

                   11.  With a Friend Like Harry  (personal copy)

          The Players: Laurent Lucas, Sergi L—pez, Mathilde
          Seigner, Sophie Guillemin

          The Play: Everyone needs a muse, and Michel's (Lucas) is
          his high-school friend Harry (L—pez). Appearing out of
          nowhere after 15 years, Harry reenters Michel's life and
          begins to smooth out all the rough edges that keep
          Michel frustrated and unable to pursue the writing
          career he abandoned. Car trouble? Here's a new one.
          Annoying parents? Dispensed with. It builds like a
          Hitchcock movieÑand that's not a name to be thrown
          around lightly when discussing thrillers. Mean, nasty
          fun.

          Coolest Scene: Harry approaches long-lost friend Michel
          in a highway men's room. You know you're in for a weird
          movie when you see the stalker-stare on Harry's face.
          You don't know if his perpetual smile means insanity or
          horniness, but you know it's going to end badly.

          Creepiest Scene: Michel discovers a shirtless,
          raw-egg?sucking Harry sitting alone in a dark kitchen in
          the middle of the night. Harry looks utterly innocent
          and always has an explanation for his actions, which
          makes it all the more unnerving.

          Cineast Factor: Strangely enough, writer/director
          Dominik Moll's first film, Intimacy, was also about a
          couple whose lives are interrupted by an interloper.

          Key Moment: Harry has memorized, in its entirety, an
          amateurish poem Michel wrote in high school. He recites
          it to the uncomfortable squirming of Michel and his
          wife.

          Date Movie? Yes. Find out what kind of person you're
          dating by whether they find Harry likable or psychotic.

          Reviewed by James Berardinelli

          For American audiences, who have become conditioned to
          certain staples and formulas defining the structure of
          nearly every mainstream psychological thriller, With a
          Friend Like Harry may seem like a breath of fresh air.
          It isn't that director Dominik Moll wanders too far from
          familiar territory, but the manner in which he crafts
          the movie allows him to reject (or at least deviate
          from) many of the most common clich*s. Consequently,
          With a Friend Like Harry is a more energetic and
          interesting entry than what one has come to expect from
          this overpopulated genre.

          In terms of its antecedents, With a Friend Like Harry
          owes less of a debt to recent thrillers (like The Hand
          that Rocks the Cradle and its brood) than to the
          collected work of Alfred Hitchcock. Moll pays homage to
          Hitchcock in ways that are sometimes subtle (characters'
          names being the same as those of principals in the
          Master of Suspense's films) and sometimes obvious
          (aspects of the plot recall those of Strangers on a
          Train). And, like Hitchcock, Moll peppers his picture
          with elements of dark and delicious wit.

          For Michel (Laurent Lucas) and Claire (Mathilde
          Seigner), the annual family summer vacation is starting
          off like a nightmare - the car is not air conditioned,
          the baby is screaming, and the kids are misbehaving. By
          the time they reach a rest stop, the long hours in the
          car have taken their toll. There, in the men's room,
          Michel meets Harry (Sergi Lopez), a guy he hasn't seen
          in 20 years. Michel doesn't remember Harry, but Harry
          definitely remembers Michel. In almost no time, Harry
          has invited himself and his girlfriend, Plum (Sophie
          Guillemin), for a drink at Michel and Claire's. At
          first, Harry is the perfect guest - offering to help out
          with chores and even buying Michel and Claire a new car.
          But there's a darker side to Harry - his interest in
          Michel runs deeper than is healthy, expanding into the
          realm of obsession. On the evidence of one juvenile poem
          written decades ago, Harry believes that Michel has the
          potential to be a great writer, and that his talent
          should be nurtured, regardless of the price.

          Hitchcock's body of work isn't the only thing recalled
          by With a Friend Like Harry. Astute viewers may
          recognize a connection to the 1988 black
          comedy/thriller, Heathers. Both films feature a friend
          who helps eliminate the protagonist's problems via
          murder, and, in the process, gains the witting or
          unwitting complicity of the hero. The details are
          different, but many of the motivating themes are
          identical. In addition, the movies embrace the same
          gallows humor.

          Moll has fun toying with audience expectations. Several
          of the murders, which would be the centerpieces of
          similar American films, occur off-screen. On at least
          two occasions, there is enough ambiguity about what
          actually happens that it's possible to construct
          entirely different versions of the event. And, by
          constructing the ending the way he does, Moll is able to
          play with us while still presenting a conclusion that is
          satisfying and offers a sense of closure.

          As is almost always true of French films, the acting is
          top-notch. In the title role, Sergi Lopez (recently seen
          in An Affair of Love) manages the perfect balance
          between being a good-natured sap and a creepy, obsessed
          stalker. Laurent Lucas is rather bland - but that's by
          intent. Michel is supposed to be a passive individual
          and Lucas nails that portrayal. Mathilde Seigner has the
          rather thankless role of the long-suffering wife, and
          voluptuous Sophie Guillemin makes her presence known as
          Harry's impossible-to-ignore girlfriend, a role she
          plays with unimpeachable aplomb.

          With a Friend Like Harry has received plaudits
          everywhere it has been shown, in large part because Moll
          avoids the fatal trap into which a majority of thrillers
          fall - underestimating the audience's intelligence. With
          a Friend Like Harry boasts a smart script that isn't
          overwhelmed by needless contrivances and implausible
          twists. This is the kind of motion picture that, if he
          was still alive, Alfred Hitchcock would almost certainly
          have given his approval to.  © 2001 James Berardinelli

          --------------------------------------------------------

          12. Beaumarchais: The Scoundrel  (personal copy)

          Directed by Edouard Molinaro; written (in French, with
          English subtitles) by Molinaro and Jean-Claude
          Brisville, based on an unpublished work by Sacha Guitry.

          Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, the 18th-century
          rake, playwright and secret agent famous for
          accomplishments as varied as inventing a durable watch
          movement and writing "The Barber of Seville" and "The
          Marriage of Figaro," was undoubtedly a more compelling
          figure than the conniving aristocrat at the heart of
          Edouard Molinaro's lavish new costume drama. The
          director of "La Cage Aux Folles" brings broadly
          conventional strokes to the convoluted story of
          Beaumarchais' adventures.

          Sparing nothing in the way of lecherous winks or
          powdered wigs, not to mention those treacherous
          courtiers who were treated more wittily in the similarly
          elaborate "Ridicule," Molinaro creates a varied portrait
          but lets it remain dispassionate, without much momentum.

          The extravagant "Beaumarchais: The Scoundrel" has been a
          hit in France, but it holds less interest here, despite
          the presence of some stellar actors, mostly in small
          roles, and the fact that Beaumarchais' clandestine
          gun-running was a great help to the Colonies during the
          American Revolution. A gross, slovenly Benjamin Franklin
          makes a brief appearance.

          "Beaumarchais," with an avid, calculating performance
          from bright-eyed Fabrice Luchini in the title role,
          touches a great many bases, some of which feature the
          solemn, tight-corseted playthings who are de rigueur in
          historical pageantry staged on this decorative level.
          Sure enough, Beaumarchais proves as skillful at
          lady-killing as he is at literature or diplomacy. In
          between conquests (with whispery Sandrine Kiberlain as
          the most devoted of his admirers), he confides much
          hard-earned wisdom to a prot*g* named Gudin (Manuel
          Blanc), who has also known Voltaire.

          High-minded gossip abounds, as in: "Do you know what
          Voltaire says about Beaumarchais? He will never be
          Moli*re, because he prefers his life to his work."
          Beyond worrying about the writing that would later be
          adapted by Mozart and Rossini, Beaumarchais is seen
          defending himself in a petty but famous lawsuit that
          greatly reduced his circumstances for a while; becoming
          the private emissary of a cantankerous Louis XV (Michel
          Serrault), whose cousin, the Prince de Conti, is played
          by Michel Piccoli, and venturing discreetly to England
          to retrieve an attack plan from a clever, cross-dressing
          spy.

          There is also a sojourn or two in jail, and there are
          scenes set in the theater, where Beaumarchais advocated
          the notion of authors' rights. But the cumulative effect
          of these events is lessened by the film's way of placing
          equal emphasis on each of them and by never looking very
          closely at the true Beaumarchais.

          "I'm not crazy enough to pretend that I understand
          Beaumarchais," Luchini has said. It's easy to see why
          this complicated man remains a mystery even to the actor
          who tries to inhabit his world.

          Molinaro partly based the film on an unpublished play by
          Sacha Guitry but noted that the material had no dramatic
          structure and remained a series of historical vignettes.
          For all its color and period detail, the film never
          solves that problem.  © By Janet Maslin, The New York
          Times
 

          "Beaumarchais, the Scoundrel"  is a glorious, giddy
          account of a tumultuous 11 years--1773 to 1784--in the
          life of the great French playwright. The author of "The
          Barber of Seville" and "The Marriage of Figaro" led an
          incredibly busy life as a political gadfly, taking aim
          at corruption in the ruling classes, serving as a royal
          spy, helping underwrite the American Revolution, living
          by his wits and pursuing beautiful women.

          The son of a watchmaker, Beaumarchais devised the
          movement, still used, with which a watch keeps accurate
          time, and he married his way to the top of the social
          ladder. (Twice widowed, he was accused by his enemies of
          doing away with his wives.) He was also a magistrate and
          a lord of the hunt.

          Not surprisingly, the legend of Beaumarchais attracted
          actor-writer-director Sacha Guitry, himself a legend,
          who brought to his plays and films a sly, humanizing
          touch to the lives of royals and other historic figures.
          No less surprising, director Edouard Molinaro, famed for
          "La Cage aux Folles" and for many other delightful
          French comedies, was tantalized by the prospect of
          filming an unproduced Guitry play on Beaumarchais.

          Retaining some 30% of Guitry's dialogue, Molinaro and
          his co-writer Jean-Claude Brisville devised an inspired
          script that's like a piece of lacy iron filigree--light
          and fanciful but sturdy--that sparkles with wit while
          zapping an oppressive monarchist government. In Molinaro
          and Brisville's imaginative hands, Beaumarchais emerges
          as a modern thinker and a prophet of his times,
          anticipating the American Revolution so soon to come.

          Molinaro has said that without Fabrice Luchini he would
          have never made the film, and unless Guitry had risen
          from the grave, it is impossible to imagine anyone else
          in the role of Beaumarchais. That Luchini is slight and
          unhandsome merely serves to underline the intense
          magnetism of his wit, intellect and personality. He's
          such a commanding presence, his sense of timing and
          movement so acute, that he actually did steal scenes--or
          close to it--from G*rard Depardieu in "Colonel Chabert."
          Luchini radiates confidence and authority with the
          throwaway gallantry so characteristic of Guitry himself.
          He's a miracle of discipline--and spontaneity.

          Bouncing in and out of ladies' beds and various jails
          for assaults on the ancien regime, Beaumarchais takes on
          the corrupt Court of Lords. He wins his case with the
          public but winds up stripped of his livelihood, his
          title and the right to stage his plays.

          Coming to his rescue, thanks to the intervention of the
          Prince de Conti (Michel Piccoli), is the king himself,
          Louis XV (Michel Serrault), who saves Beaumarchais by
          pressing him into service as a secret agent. He is
          dispatched to London to retrieve an attack plan on
          England from a glamorous spy (Claire Nebout), apparently
          a transvestite.

          It is during this mission that he becomes involved with
          the fast-approaching American Revolution. Gun-smuggling
          to the colonies, love affairs and other adventures
          culminate in his staging of "The Marriage of Figaro,"
          whose premiere has the effect of firing the first shot
          in the French Revolution.

          "Beaumarchais," filmed gorgeously at Versailles and
          other historic locales, has that flawless period feel,
          here enhanced by elegant classical music of the era
          incorporated into a lovely score, that so many European
          pictures do so well. It is a film of telling nuance and
          gesture, none more memorable than a moment when a
          nobleman, encountering Beaumarchais in the Hall of
          Mirrors, tries to humiliate him by asking him to repair
          his exquisite and delicate pocket watch. Ever so deftly
          Beaumarchais manages to let it tumble from his hands and
          smash to pieces on the parquet. © Kevin Thomas, The Los
          Angeles Times

          Beaumarchais, lÕinsolent

          Musicien et inventeur, homme d'affaires et fin
          politique, diplomate et marchand d'armes, *diteur,
          pol*miste, libertin et homme de lettres, Beaumarchais
          est ˆ l'image de son si*cle, le XVIIIe : un
          touche-ˆ-tout *pris de libert*, de connaissances et
          passionn* par l'action. Un film - Beaumarchais,
          l'insolent - , sorti avec succ*s en mars 1996 en France,
          nous invite ˆ red*couvrir un personnage dont la richesse
          ne saurait *tre *puis*e par ce film, par les livres qui
          lui sont consacr*s ou ces quelques lignes...

          Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais (1732-1799),
          l'auteur du Barbier de S*ville  et du Mariage de Figaro,
          fait irruption sur la sc*ne fran*aise en dehors de toute
          c*l*bration officielle. Nul anniversaire de naissance ou
          de mort, mais un film, d'Edouard Molinaro, ressuscite ce
          personnage inclassable du XVIIIe si*cle. Un seul acteur
          fran*ais, peut-*tre, pouvait l'interpr*ter avec l*g*ret*
          : Fabrice Luchini, accompagn* dans ses diverses
          entreprises par une pl*iade de com*diens de renom
          (Michel Serrault, Michel Piccoli, Jean-Claude Brialy) et
          de talents prometteurs (Sandrine Kiberlain, Manuel
          Blanc).  Fantaisie enjou*e, ce film pr*sente une tranche
          de vie d'un homme qui en mena toujours plusieurs ˆ la
          fois. Sont ainsi travers*es entre 1775 et 1784 - dates
          de la repr*sentation de ses deux pi*ces ˆ succ*s - dix
          ann*es d*cisives de l'existence agit*e de Beaumarchais.
          Illustrant la devise de Voltaire, Ç rien de ce qui est
          humain ne m'est *tranger È, Beaumarchais semble trop
          int*ress* par la vie pour se limiter ˆ la cr*ation d'une
          oeuvre. A travers les p*rip*ties romanesques de la vie
          de Beaumarchais, le film nous fait ainsi d*couvrir les
          multiples facettes de l'auteur dramatique : magistrat,
          n'h*sitant pas ˆ s'attaquer aux princes de sang et au
          Parlement, conseiller occulte des rois Louis XV et Louis
          XVI, munitionnaire des insurg*s am*ricains, n*gociant,
          *poux et ami volage.  Fabrice Luchini campe un
          Beaumarchais insaisissable, avec les d*fauts de ses
          qualit*s, talentueux mais parfois d*cevant, infid*le et
          changeant. Le com*dien a l'aplomb et le panache du
          personnage, sa folie latente, son audace pleine de
          vitalit*. Sur ses traces, le film nous fait suivre la
          course ˆ la gloire, ˆ la fortune et au bonheur d'un
          homme ˆ la crois*e des grandes aventures du XVIIIe
          si*cle et ˆ la charni*re de deux *poques : celle de
          l'Ancien R*gime finissant et celle, moderne, qui
          s'ouvrira avec la R*volution de 1789.

          Si l'on a sans doute exag*r*, r*trospectivement, le r™le
          du Mariage de Figaro  dans le d*clenchement de la
          R*volution fran*aise, cette derni*re voyait dans la
          pi*ce un symbole de l'opposition ˆ l'arbitraire et aux
          abus. Et il est ind*niable que les aventures du valet
          Figaro refl*tent bien l'esprit contestataire de l'*poque
          et les aspirations du Tiers Etat, qui allait faire la
          R*volution. Pour autant, Beaumarchais n'est ni un
          th*oricien ni un r*volutionnaire. Fils d'un horloger de
          la bourgeoisie parisienne cultiv*e et horloger lui-m*me,
          il sera anobli par son premier mariage et fera son
          entr*e ˆ la cour comme ma”tre de harpe des filles de
          Louis XV. Ambitieux et opportuniste, il briguera
          toujours les charges et les honneurs. Ses pi*ces
          t*moignent, ainsi, de la mont*e en puissance de la
          bourgeoisie, dont il exprimera, par le biais de son
          double Figaro, le d*sir d'ascension sociale et de
          reconnaissance politique, dans une soci*t* bloqu*e.

          Le souffle de la R*volution

          En bon h*ritier de Diderot et de son ma”tre Voltaire,
          dont il *ditera les oeuvres compl*tes, Beaumarchais
          s'inscrit dans la lign*e de la libre-pens*e des
          Lumi*res. Partisan de l'*galit* de tous devant la loi,
          que la R*volution allait instaurer, il attaque les
          privil*ges ; amoureux de la libert*, il d*nonce
          malicieusement la censure ; repr*sentant de la
          bourgeoisie, qui s'*l*ve par son m*rite, il fait tenir ˆ
          peu de choses la sup*riorit* pr*tendue naturelle de
          l'aristocratie : Ç Parce que vous *tes un grand
          seigneur, vous vous croyez un grand g*nie [...]
          Qu'avez-vous fait pour tant de biens ? Vous vous *tes
          donn* la peine de na”tre et rien de plus È, d*clare
          Figaro au comte. Et sur l'air d'une chanson, qui cl™t le
          Mariage de Figaro, Beaumarchais persiste et signe:  Ç
          Par le sort de la naissance, l'un est roi, l'autre est
          berger, le hasard fit leur distance, l'esprit seul peut
          tout changer È, qui avec sa l*g*ret* bon enfant,
          contient pas moins que la remise en question de la
          sup*riorit* de la noblesse de Ç sang bleu È. La bonne
          soci*t* ne sera, pourtant, pas la derni*re ˆ savourer
          ces pointes frondeuses, incapable d'imaginer l'imminence
          d'une r*volution.

          Moins subversives que les Lettres persanes de
          Montesquieu ou le Candide  de Voltaire, ces pi*ces
          puisent, peut-*tre, leur force dans le fait qu'elles
          furent *crites pour toucher et plaire au plus grand
          nombre, ce qu'elles firent  au-delˆ de toute esp*rance.
          Le Mariage de Figaro  fut, en effet, le plus grand
          succ*s th*‰tral du si*cle, amplifi* par une rumeur de
          scandale, ses difficult*s ˆ *tre jou*, la censure de
          Louis XVI l'ayant interdit pendant trois ans avant sa
          cr*ation en 1784. Consid*rable, ce succ*s sera couronn*
          par l'op*ra de Mozart, les Noces de Figaro,  en 1786.
          Trente ans plus tard, ce sera au tour de Rossini de
          mettre en musique le Barbier de S*ville  (1816).

          Le secret de ces deux pi*ces ? L'arme de Beaumarchais ?
          Le verbe qui fait mouche, l'ironie qui autorise toutes
          les insolences, la simplicit* du style, mais aussi la
          gaiet* de deux com*dies amusantes, pleines d'esprit et
          de rebondissements, dans la tradition de la commedia
          dell'arte italienne. Dans le Mariage de Figaro,  le
          comte Almaviva, qui se d*sint*resse de sa femme,
          voudrait bien faire valoir l'archa•que  Ç droit du
          seigneur È, symbole des privil*ges f*odaux, aupr*s de la
          future *pous*e de son valet Figaro. Mais cette derni*re,
          Suzanne, et la comtesse ne l'entendent pas ainsi et sont
          bien d*cid*es ˆ confondre l'infid*le, ˆ l'insu de
          Figaro, l'intelligent, insolent et entreprenant valet du
          Barbier de S*ville.

          Ni ces deux pi*ces ni le film de Molinaro ne sont des
          oeuvres ˆ th*se. Elles reposent avant tout sur une
          intrigue sentimentale. Toutefois, le Mariage de Figaro
          sera r*guli*rement interdit du Premier Empire jusqu'au
          r*gime de Vichy, que connut la France pendant la Seconde
          Guerre mondiale. Peut-*tre ˆ cause de la fameuse tirade
          qui tourne en d*rision l'hypocrisie des r*gimes o* r*gne
          la censure : Ç Pourvu que je ne parle en mes *crits ni
          de l'autorit*, ni du culte, ni de la politique, ni de la
          morale, ni des gens en place, ni des corps en cr*dit, ni
          de l'Op*ra, ni des autres spectacles ni de personne qui
          tienne ˆ quelque chose, je puis tout imprimer librement,
          sous l'inspection de deux ou trois censeurs. È

          Relevant, au passage, le paradoxe de la censure, qui se
          condamne ˆ amplifier l'impact de ce qu'elle interdit - Ç
          les sottises imprim*es n'ont d'importance qu'aux lieux
          o* l'on en g*ne le cours È -, Beaumarchais rappelle que
          Ç sans la libert* de bl‰mer, il n'est point d'*loge
          flatteur È. Ce sens de la formule, efficace et *l*gant ˆ
          la fois, se retrouve, par exemple, dans la d*finition
          que Figaro donne du m*tier de courtisan:   Ç Recevoir,
          prendre et demander : voilˆ le secret en trois mots. È
          M*me lucidit* lorsque l'auteur *pingle le jeu de dupes
          que r*serve aux femmes la galanterie des hommes : Ç Dans
          les rangs m*me les plus *lev*s, les femmes n'obtiennent
          de vous qu'une consid*ration d*risoire : leurr*es de
          respects apparents, dans une servitude r*elle, trait*es
          en mineures pour nos biens, punies en majeures pour nos
          fautes ! È Et il est vrai que ce sont les femmes, la
          comtesse et Suzanne, et non les roturiers contre les
          nobles, qui sortent victorieuses de cette pi*ce.

          L'agent secret du roi

          Cette verve, cet amour du bon mot, se retrouve dans le
          film, adapt* d'une pi*ce in*dite de Sacha Guitry, un des
          auteurs fran*ais les plus spirituels du d*but du si*cle,
          et servi avec bonheur par Fabrice Luchini, v*ritable Ç
          enrag* È de la langue fran*aise. Homme de th*‰tre, le
          com*dien est capable de faire vivre, seul sur sc*ne, des
          monuments de la litt*rature fran*aise comme le Voyage au
          bout de la nuit  de Ferdinand C*line. En repr*sentation
          permanente, terreur des animateurs de t*l*vision ou de
          radio, dont il bouscule les *missions bien huil*es,
          Fabrice Luchini vous aura peut-*tre enchant* dans Tout
          *a pour *a  de Claude Lelouch ou le Colonel Chabert,
          adapt* de Balzac, o* il joue un notaire retors aux c™t*s
          de G*rard Depardieu.

          A bien des *gards proche de Beaumarchais, Fabrice
          Luchini partage *galement avec l'illustre personnage le
          go*t de la s*duction et des contradictions. C'est que
          Beaumarchais ne craint pas de collectionner les
          paradoxes :  bourgeois anobli qui pourfend les
          privil*ges, magistrat qui met en cause l'int*grit* d'un
          membre du Parlement, homme d'affaires qui risque, et
          perd, une partie de sa fortune pour fournir des armes
          aux ÇInsurgents È am*ricains.  Beaumarchais n'est pas un
          philanthrope, mais un homme d'action g*n*reux et
          pragmatique, qui cherche toujours ˆ concilier ses
          int*r*ts priv*s avec le Ç bien public È, la grande
          affaire du XVIIIe si*cle.

          Priv* de tous ses droits par le Parlement qu'il
          attaquait, Beaumarchais part en Angleterre, comme agent
          secret du roi. Des diff*rentes missions qu'il effectua
          pour le compte du roi, le film retient la plus
          romanesque, qui mit Beaumarchais aux prises avec le
          chevalier d'Eon, l*gendaire espion du roi, dont
          l'identit* sexuelle resta ind*termin*e toute sa vie, et
          qui visait ˆ r*cup*rer une correspondance diplomatique
          fort compromettante pour les relations franco-anglaises.

          Son amour de la libert* et son refus de l'oppression
          d'un peuple par un autre am*neront Beaumarchais ˆ
          convaincre Louis XVI d'apporter, par son interm*diaire,
          un soutien militaire, important et secret, aux insurg*s
          am*ricains (1776-1778), dans leur guerre d'ind*pendance
          contre l'Angleterre, rivale de la France.

          Une des sc*nes les plus savoureuses du film nous montre
          Beaumarchais, traducteur de la d*claration
          d'ind*pendance des Etats-Unis d'Am*rique, faisant
          frissonner Louis XVI en lui apprenant l'existence du
          Çdroit le plus sacr* du peuple : le droit au bonheur È.
          En cela r*side, peut-*tre, le caract*re universel du
          message de Beaumarchais, toujours aussi actuel et
          subversif.  © Anne Rapin

          --------------------------------------------------------

          13. Queen Margot / La Reine Margot  - S-VT 3485

          AT HER MAJESTY'S PLEASURE: Vincent Perez and Isabelle
          Adjani are furtive lovers in Queen Margot.

          There are moments in QUEEN MARGOT that are as horrifying
          as any I have ever seen on film.  Heads are cracked
          open, guts are gouged, bodies are smashed and split and
          dumped into pits in scenes that bring to mind images of
          Holocaust slaughter.  Blood spurts everywhere; there's
          so much spilled that the palette of this production is
          not even crimson--it's a thick, matted maroon.  What
          would be outrageous in any other context is, however,
          mesmerizing in the hands of French director Patrice
          Ch*reau: It's 16th-century French history he's telling,
          and Ch*reau excels at making the dirt and rot and lusts
          and hatreds of 400 years ago come to life so vividly you
          can practically smell the unwashed bodies in the court
          of Catherine de M*dicis, where this brutal chapter takes
          place.

          The story, adapted from the novel by Alexandre Dumas, is
          that of Catherine's Catholic daughter, Marguerite of
          Valois, called Margot, who is married by her mother to
          the French leader of the (Protestant) Huguenots, Henry
          of Navarre, in a disastrous attempt to ease the ongoing
          fighting between the two religious factions and to
          protect her family's throne.

          In a plot dense with historical characters whose names
          and loyalties may not be immediately distinguishable,
          Ch*reau does something fresh: He dives in with momentum
          going going going so that you can feel the fury that
          fuels this insane holy war, letting individual heroes
          and villains emerge out of the muck, then sink back into
          their larger hell again. Margot's emotionally frayed
          older brother, Charles, for instance, who barely
          registers as the king for half the movie, becomes an
          extraordinary character by the story's climax. (In
          contrast, Steven Spielberg builds the power off
          Chindler's List, a movie of similar large, tragic scope,
          on a slow, step-by-step march to horror, introducing
          each character patiently and precisely.)

          But within his dark canvas, Ch*reau also beams points of
          light: In an alley littered with bleeding men, he
          creates a bold, arousing scene of anonymous sex between
          a prowling Margot and La M™le, the Huguenot who becomes
          her lover.  In the most fetid of settings, he caresses
          the faces and bodies of his actors with a sympathetic
          lens so that even a bit-part valet or lady-in-waiting
          projects real life. And Ch*reau contrasts the cool,
          mysterious, velvety beauty of Adjani--last seen here,
          much too long ago, in 1988's Camille Claudel- with the
          beaky, contained style of Auteuil, and again with the
          sensual energy of Perez.  There are nightmare scenes
          here, and you can't take your eyes off them.  There's a
          monster mother here, and you are thrilled by the
          skull-head stare of the magnificent Virna Lisi the way
          you thrilled at the schemes of Sian Phillips' Livia in
          I, Claudius. History has rarely been so gorgeously,
          electrically, sensuously portrayed. You'll want to go
          home and bathe.  ©Lisa Schwarzbaum

          Another Review by Edwin Jahiel

          Queen Margot covers one of the lesser-known chapters in
          France's history: in the late 16th century, relations
          between the Roman Catholic majority and the victimized
          Huguenot (Protestant) minority were at all-time low. An
          arranged, interfaith marriage between the Catholic
          Margot and the Huguenot Henry of Navarre should have
          eased the strain between the squabbling groups -- except
          that the royal wedding was a trap set by King Charles
          (Jean-Hugues Anglade) and his dragon-lady mother
          Catherine of Medici to lure Protestants to Paris, where
          several thousand celebrants were cornered and
          slaughtered by Catholic extremists in a Huguenot
          holocaust.

          But in Queen Margot's labyrinthine plot, that's just the
          beginning. From this devastating opening, the film
          shifts from the macro of social history to the micro of
          personal history: the intertwining lives of the lovers
          and fighters caught in the fallout. Because, as with
          many a wicked act, the massacre only begets further
          wickedness: poisonings, betrayals, plus lots and lots of
          lace-hanky-panky and the behind-closed-drawbridges
          couplings betweenmembers of opposing families (and
          sometimes even the same family). Detailing all that
          follows is impossible: the spider-web story from the
          novel by Alexandre Dumas (The Three Musketeers)
          introduces so many characters that, for the first little
          while, you can't tell a Papist from a Lutheran without a
          program.

          Thetwo-hour-and-20-minute Margot released here in North
          America is about 30 minutes shorter than it was in
          France: faster-moving, yes, but possibly less coherent.
          Pay attention, though, and you'll be rewardedwith
          terrific acting, gorgeous cinematography, high-style
          romanticism and the perennially popular spectacle of
          tragic things happening to good people.

          Margot's superb (and huge) cast brims over with some of
          France's brightest -- including Jean-Hugues Anglade as
          Catherine's son Charles. Anglade is one of the
          best-known French stars thanks to his roles in the
          recent Killing Zoe and as B*atrice Dalle's lover in
          Betty Blue. Like co-star Adjani, Anglade is an
          unbelievably young-looking 40, which suggests that if
          there is a fountain of youth, it's near wherever Margot
          was shooting. Also like Adjani, he's a major talent and
          delivers a remarkably complex performance.

          Anglade views Charles, his weak-willed, Hamlet-like
          monarch, as "based on a contradiction, and has many
          paradoxes. For an actor it's never boring toplay this
          kind of character. You have to play a different mood
          every day and that gives you the opportunity to express
          yourself in a very wide way."

          The actor deliberately kept Charles' relationship with
          Daniel Auteuil's Henry "ambiguous" because, as he puts
          it, "it's more exciting not to know everything, when you
          conserve certain secrets or mysteries, and that's the
          case between King Charles and Henri de Navarre. "When
          they are dining together," he continues, "they are
          playing mind games at the same shrewd level. It's a very
          interesting confrontation -- friendly, but they are also
          studying each other." There's such a lot going on in
          Margot that it's not giving away too much to reveal that
          Anglade also has a pretty spectacular death scene. "It
          was uncomfortable," he recalls, "and a bit disturbing.
          It's very difficult to imagine the agony. When you're
          acting as a person who's dying, you have to play without
          the main element in the situation: the pain. So it's
          very abstract." Instead, he drew upon his "own personal
          fear of death."

          The film's director, Patrice Ch*reau, is still best
          known on this side of the Atlantic for having directed a
          highly controversial version of Wagner's Ring Cycle in
          Germany in the early '80s (shown occasionally on PBS).
          But the radical re-re- thinking that Ch*reau brought to
          opera is not much in evidence here: Queen Margot is a
          pretty straightforward film -- though an exceptionally
          well-staged, well-photographed and (especially)
          well-acted one.  © Edwin Jahiel
          --------------------------------------------------------

          14.  Les Mis*rables (du vingti*me si*cle)  - Claude
          Lelouch  [inspired by Victor Hugo's  classic  novel] -
          S-VT 3534.

                 Les Mis*rables is the best example to date of the
          Lelouch vice/vertu. Not content to film Victor Hugo, he
          writes a (somewhat strained) analogous twentieth-century
          story, including World War II ; and he also interweaves
          scenes from the Hugo novel; and he interweaves clips
          from the 1934 film version. (In those clips we glimpse
          Jean Valjean as played by Harry Baur, who not so many
          years later, was tortured to death by the Germans in
          occupied Paris.)

                  The result, as narrative and as contrapuntal
          commentary, is a mess. But out of this overload some
          excellences arise. First is the cinematography by
          Philippe Pavans de Ceccaty, especiallly in the several
          snow scenes. When, in a nineteenth-century segment,
          Valjean is punished for a prison infraction by being
          locked in a curved outdoor cage in a snow storm, the
          image is so paradoxically exquisite that it creates an
          irony against the cruelty. Second, Jean-Paul Belmondo,
          who is Valjean and the twentieth-century Henri Fortin.
          What a power he is - he would be even if he were new to
          us. But like many aging film stars, he brings with him
          all the years we have spent with him, all the films of
          his we have seen, and these enrich was he does now. He
          is now 62, and, in every warm and fruitfuil way, he
          looks it.

               Good performances abound. Lelouch has summoned
          other old-timers to his cast. Monique Presle plays a
          Mother Superior with heaven on her face. Jean Marais,
          one of the most beautiful young men when he was in
          Cocteau’s films, is now one of the the mosty beautiful
          old men as the bishop whose candlesticks figure in
          Hugo’s best known episode. Michel Boujenah, as a Jewish
          lawyer harassed by Germans in this century, brings tacit
          depth to his role. The farm couple who give him refuge,
          Annie Girardot and Philippe L*otard, are excellent,
          especially L*otard, as his venality overcomes his
          charity.

              Lelouch's profligacy is sometimes silly. To welcome
          the advancing Allied armies, Presle has a long line of
          girls in her convent school play on about twenty pianos,
          "It’s a Long, Long Way to Tipperary."  Wouldn't ten
          pianos have been enough of too much? The crimes and
          solutions toward the end are incredible, and the
          neatness of the very ending, complete with a Fred
          Astaire song, cheats us, by its absurdity, of the tears
          we would like to have shed.  Still, in this three-hour
          ragout, there are a lot of savory chunks."  Stanley
          Hoffmann, The New Republic, November 20, 1995.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          15. Nelly et Monsieur Arnaud  Dir. Claude Sautet. S-VT
          3637

                 Une jeune femme, Nelly, *prouve quelques
          difficult*s ˆ vivre : cribl*e de dettes, son mari ˆ sa
          charge, allant de petits boulots en petits boulots, elle
          a du mal ˆ suivre. Un jour pourtant, elle fait la
          rencontre de Monsieur Arnaud, riche homme d'affaires et
          ancien magistrat qui lui propose de r*gler ses dettes et
          l'engage pour dactylographier sa biographie.  Elle
          accepte et quitte son mari.  Chaque jour elle va donc
          durant quelques heures taper cette biographie. Monsieur
          Arnaud tombe amoureux de cette fille plus jeune de 35
          ans mais elle s'*prend plut™t de l'*diteur de la future
          biographie. L'ambiance aux s*ances journali*res de
          dactylographie devient alors plus tendue.  Les
          confidences sont plus rares et les relations moins
          intimes. Finalement, comble du drame, Nelly casse avec
          l'*diteur et Monsieur Arnaud part en voyage avec son
          ex-femme dont le mari vient de mourir .

                   A film about trust, and emotional ordeal, Nelly
          et Monsieur Arnaud is reminiscent of Sautet's previous
          works, including the not dissimilar Un Coeur en hiver.
          B*art, as beautiful as ever, portrays a kind of feminine
          muse in her relationship with the older man, but also
          acts as a sink for many of Arnaud'sdeeper feelings. In
          doing so, she becomes less able to deal with her own
          world and problems and increasingly resorts to lies to
          try and evaluate the people nearest to her. Serrault, in
          contrast, portrays a man trying both to escape his past,
          and build his future. His relationship with B*art cannot
          easily be described but in her it is as if he can become
          a father figure and protector/helper - seen clearly in
          one central scene, when his hand hovers hesitantly over
          her naked back as she is sleeping then lowers to stroke
          it gently.

                  Like so much of French cinema, this film is less
          about the action and more about the emotions and
          restraints imposed on these feelings. It is about
          repression and oppression and the effects these can
          have. More importantly, it focuses on Sautet's
          fascination with the imagery of the beautiful young
          woman and the older man. Coupled with B*art's and
          Serrault's fine performances this is an intelligent and
          absorbing look at French life. © Review by Neil Chue
          Hong.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          16. French Twist / Gazon maudit (1995) - Josiane
          Balasko.  S-VT  4512

                "Josiane Balasko, the writer-director, starts with
          a youngish couple, parents of two children, who live in
          southern France.  He is a real estate agent who does
          much of his selling to female clients - horizontally.
          She is a Spanish ex-dancer. Spanish because Balasko,
          thank heaven, wanted Victoria Abril (of Alm—dovar's
          films) in the role.

                  Hubby's philanderings are almost completely
          unkown to the wife ; still, after a quarrel, she is
          vulnerable to the advances of a husky female driver of a
          van who stops by.  Result: a threesome plus the
          children. Further result: the van driver agrees to leave
          only if Hub will make her pregnant. She leaves, turns
          out to be gravid, and is brought back. Result: a
          threesome with three children.  Hubby then meets a
          handsome male client, who eyes him. Result? Most of the
          time it's like watching a coming trapeze act: neat
          swings, releases, catches. What gives the film something
          more than its flying geometry is Victoria Abril. Energy,
          comedy, sex." Stanley Hoffmann, The New Republic,
          February 26, 1996.

                 Actress/Director Josiane Balasko's latest film
          'French Twist' [was] the second most popular film at the
          1995 French box office. Balasko, one of the most popular
          French film makers, has always been a comic actress and
          author. Through 'French Twist' she wanted to talk about
          lesbianism to a larger audience without hurting lesbian
          sensitivities and also to erase the guilt from
          lesbianism. Balasko blames poor promotion by the
          agencies for the absence of an international market for
          French cinema. She strongly denies any feminist leanings
          and believes that her films address everybody.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          17. Bye Bye  - Karim Dridi. S-VT 4067

                   In France, where tensions are fierce between
          native French and a huge influx of Arab immigrants, the
          port city of Marseilles, across the Mediterranean from
          North Africa, has the most troubled history of anti-Arab
          racism. There, Tunisian filmmaker Karim Dridi sets his
          second feature film, Bye Bye, a compelling look at Arabs
          struggling to raise their French-born children in a
          country that shuns them.

                  Sympathetic but tough-minded, and directed with
          great assurance by Dridi, Bye Bye, tells the story of
          two brothers, 25-year-old Isma‘l and 14- year-old
          Mouloud, who leave Paris to stay with their uncle and
          his family in a Marseilles ghetto.

                 On the surface a plea for racial tolerance, Bye
          Bye also works as a family tragedy, a lament for fading
          cultures and a parable about the price of leaving one's
          homeland and relocating to a country that stigmatizes
          and isolates its newcomers.

                Dridi, who also wrote Bye Bye, traces those themes
          through the actions of the two brothers. For
          conscientious Ismael, still tortured by the memory of
          his brother's death in a fire, Marseilles holds the
          promise of a new beginning. But after scoring a job as a
          dockworker and befriending Jacky, a French co-worker,
          his dreams splatter against the wall of racism
          --embodied by Jacky's Arab-hating brother.

                For Mouloud, a rap-loving punk with free-floating
          adolescent angst, Marseilles is just another place to
          raise hell -- this time free from his father's gaze.
          Ignoring his older brother's warnings,  Mouloud takes up
          with his drug-running cousin Rhida, starts living on the
          streets and brings chaos to his tradition-bound uncle
          and aunt.

                 Does he want to return to his homeland in Tunisia
          to be with his mother? Hell, no. France is his place of
          birth and his home, much as that fact plagues his
          father.

                 Dridi's direction is sharp -- he stages one
          remarkable scene in a drug dealer's apartment, shot in
          one long, uninterrupted take ? and he draws strong,
          passionate performances from his North African cast. Bye
          Bye is a strong, craftsmanlike and heart-rending film
          that serves as a window into a neglected,
          little-understood culture.  ©1999 San Francisco
          Chronicle

          --------------------------------------------------------

          18. Y aura-t-il de la neige ˆ No‘l?  Will it Snow for
          Christmas?  1996  Sandrine Veysset  - S-VT 4766 +
          personal copy

          Pour son premier long m*trage, Sandrine Veysset nous
          raconte l'histoire d'une femme, ou plut™t d'une m*re de
          7 enfants, qui vit et travaille dans une ferme du sud de
          la France. La situation familiale est difficile car le
          p*re de ces 7 b‰tards (comme on les nomme au village)
          n'est en r*alit* que l'amant - qui vit avec sa vraie
          famille ˆ Cavaillon. Exer*ant un diktat terrible, le
          p*re ne visite 'les autres' que pour v*rifier leur
          travail dans ses champs...

          Apportant un vent r*solument nouveau dans le cin*ma
          fran*ais, Y AURA-T-IL DE LA NEIGE A NOEL, quoique
          construit comme une fiction, ressemble plus ˆ un
          documentaire. Le combat quotidien de cette m*re pour
          *duquer ses enfants, garder la t*te froide face ˆ
          l'homme au camion rouge (le p*re redout*) tout en
          travaillant comme une forcen*e, est un exemple parmi des
          milliers de combats identiques - et tr*s actuels - men*s
          par des milliers d'autres femmes ˆ travers le monde. Ce
          film est avant tout un hommage ˆ la maman, un
          remerciement ˆ chacune d'entre elles pour la force de
          leur amour qui, ˆ lui-seul, nous pousse ˆ grandir. A
          grands coups de tendresse.

          Le film de Veysset n'est pas lent. Telles les saisons
          qui passent, il prend le temps d'*tre. Par une  mise en
          sc*ne tr*s r*aliste et tr*s sobre, Veysset r*ussit ˆ
          captiver son public en entra”nant litt*ralement chaque
          spectateur ˆ participer au labeur quotidien de cette
          femme et de ses enfants.  Ils ne sont pas seuls ˆ
          nettoyer les radis, ˆ trier les salades, ˆ planter les
          pommes de terre... Nous trimons avec eux. Mais c'est
          avec eux *galement que nous profitons du chaud soleil
          d'*t* ˆ la fin de la journ*e, que nous partageons la
          veill*e de No‘l avec ses petites surprises et que nous
          nous *merveillons devant les premiers flocons de
          neige... A travers tous ces petits morceaux de vie,
          l'*motion peu ˆ peu s'installe et devient reine. On ne
          l'a pas senti arriver, car Veysset a eu la noblesse de
          ne pas fabriquer les sempiternelles sc*nes artificielles
          qui nous auraient fait rire .. ou pleurer. Chaque *moi,
          chaque frisson *veill* chez le spectateur est totalement
          spontan* et personnel.

          Dominique Reymond qui joue le r™le de la maman est une
          actrice-perle. Etonnante de justesse, elle incarne
          sublimement cette femme ˆ la fois forte et fragile,
          soumise et r*volt*e, triste mais jamais m*chante. C'est
          une ‰me nue qu'elle offre ˆ la cam*ra. C'est pourquoi
          elle fait de cette ma”tresse-femme, qui tel le roseau de
          La Fontaine plie mais ne rompt point, un personnage
          bouleversant... Et pour l'aider ˆ porter ce film sur ses
          *paules, les 7 enfants font un boulot *patant... © Joy
          Craftlove

          A Film Review by Cissy Caffrey

          Summary: Ambiguous look at depressing-magical rural
          life.

                On the face of it, the life of The Mother and her
          children might seem tough but idyllic, working hard on a
          provincial farm, part  of a loving family, happy in
          their own solidarity and inventiveness. Even at the
          family's lowest ebb, when the  alternative of living in
          a cramped council flat is seriously mooted, The Mother
          can say, at least you live in the country. But WILL IT
          SNOW FOR CHRISTMAS is no unthinking pastoral of blazing
          sun, beautiful countryside, and hearty rustics. In a
          world where the never ending sun is a dangerous,
          oppressive glare, where the land is a bleak, uniform,
          thoroughly mastered mistress demanding constant
          attention, where the locals are mean-minded, avaricious
          bigots, this is pastoral as Bresson might have made it,
          beating down on its characters, loveless, thankless,
          relentless.

                The image of wholeness and harmony that opens the
          film, though hard, is deeply schismatic. As they are
          constantly reminded, the children are the illegitimate
          offspring of The Father who houses them in a seemingly
          pleasant farmhouse, with no sanitary or heating
          amenities, while he exploits them as cheap labour with
          his two older, 'legitimate' sons, living with his own
          family who are ashamed of the 'b-----ds'. Initially, he
          seems tough but fair, a loving father, but as the film
          wears on the extent of his cruelty becomes apparent,
          never melodramatised, rooted in the rural French values
          of land, greed, sexual desperation and exploitation.

                CHRISTMAS is rare in showing a world of work. When
          you think about it, it's strange how something so
          completely fundamental to our lives, our identities, our
          social, economic and political relations is so absent
          from our films. With the hardly typical exception of
          policemen, the world of work only acts as a handy
          character signifier, or, at most, a setting for plot.
          But it's never simply represented as itself.

                Here we get lingering sequences of pure work, and
          we see its truth, how, for most of us, its thoughtless
          repetition deadens us, mechanises us, makes us mere
          animals, brooding and resentful, ready to lash out at
          whoever we feel is to blame for it, leaving you so tired
          you can't even read at night.  The film is not entirely
          successful here - my dad came from blighted farming
          background, and his grim experiences don't really find
          any correspondances here. But work is an extraordinary
          revealer of character, and in a film full of quiet,
          insightful observations of The Mother, a woman of so
          much love she in danger of losing it, the most powerful
          is related to work after she's discovered The Father has
          made a pass at her daughter - she sits alone, bowed,
          under a purple twilight, beside a truck of randomly
          strewn fruit crates.

                 So the images of wholeness and authenticity we
          idealistically associate with the countryside are
          actually riven with schism. The film describes two
          worlds - that dominated by The Father, one of virtual
          slavery (the casting of Daniel Duval, director of LA
          DEROBADE, an exploitative study of female degradation,
          is surely no accident), grind, abuse, as inexorable as
          the seasons; and the indoor world of the family,
          privileged remarkably, considering things, still full of
          love and optimism.

                There are brief moments of epiphany throughout,
          when the relentless 'realistic' visual register is
          suspended by something more subjective, a space
          untouched by Father and work. This culminates in the
          magical Christmas climax, as we see, framed in the
          darkness, behind a small barred window, an ambiguous
          image of family: on the one level cramped, imprisoned,
          shrouded, isolated; on the other harmonious, loving, a
          source of light and communication, a world of dream and
          stories that contrasts with Father's exploitative world
          of mechanical human relations.

                 The exquisite Joycean epiphany of snow is
          similarly double-edged - is it dreamt or real?; either
          way, the problems aren't resolved - the children might
          be saved, but she is trapped behind the window, alone
          but secure. This lovely film, never as depressing as an
          outline of its story might suggest, full of an animating
          camerawork that belies its characters inability to move,
          is very similar to Lynne Ramsey's later RATCATCHER, but,
          while its stylistic tastefulness means it never risks
          Ramsey's glaring lapses, its reserve means it doesn't
          quite capture her haunting poetry either. © cissy
          caffrey  dublin, ireland  Date: 14 June 2000.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          19. Indochine (156 min.) 1992   R*gis Wargnier - S-VT
          2788

                    A lethargic opium dream of colonial Vietnam,
          "Indochine"  looks back on French imperialism with a
          dramatically deadening spiritual fatigue. But, unlike
          similarly sprawling British mea culpas, this movie makes
          no apologies for those who usurp a country's culture.
          The world-weary protagonists of this historical
          melodrama don't see themselves as oppressing the
          Indochinese, but as nurturing them on the cream of
          European civilization.

                  This presumptuous, if not altogether
          indefensible notion, is spelled out in the tight
          relationship between Eliane (Catherine Deneuve), a
          rubber-plantation owner, and Camille, her adopted
          Indochinese daughter. An Annam princess educated in
          French schools, Camille breaks the tie when she and her
          beloved mother become rivals for the love of a fickle
          young naval officer, Jean-Baptiste. Thinking she is
          doing what's best for her daughter, Eliane arranges to
          have Jean-Baptiste reassigned to the remote and scenic
          Tonkin Islands. But Eliane has underestimated Camille,
          who flees the comfort and privilege of Saigon to find
          the man she loves. During her hazardous journey, Camille
          discovers a new passion for her homeland and her people.
          And when finally reunited with Jean-Baptiste, she is
          well on her way to becoming a revolutionary.

                  Her transformation from Mademoiselle Butterfly
          to Communist leader becomes complete when she is torn
          from her lover and their infant son and thrown into
          prison for crimes against the state. The trouble is we
          never see the fragile teenager undergo this surprising
          metamorphosis. Director R*gis Wargnier seems far more
          interested in what the white folks are doing back on the
          plantation. As with other potentially enlivening events,
          we hear about it from the coolly aristocratic Eliane. A
          form of cinematic colonialism, "Indochine" commits
          dramatic suicide by Eurocentrism.

                  Clearly Wargnier, who also co-wrote the script,
          has a fondness for extended metaphors, preferring
          intellectual artifice over character development. None
          of his characters is particularly complex or consistent,
          but Jean-Baptiste is virtually put out to stud as a
          sexual cynic turned romance-novel-cover boy overnight.
          Perhaps it was the MSG that tenderized this beefcake.
          Deneuve's Eliane is more interesting, but she is, after
          all, playing France.

                  Wargnier, who learned his craft at the elbow of
          Claude Chabrol, does expose the geographic splendors of
          Southeast Asia as well as the common sense of its
          people, whose sly observations lend "Indochine" both
          energy and levity.  Madame Tam (Thi Hoe Tranh Huu
          Trieu), a business woman whose son is engaged to
          Camille, speaks for all of us when she hears of the
          girl's interest in her mother's paramour. "I'll never
          understand French people's love stories, they're nothing
          but folly and suffering." Our b*ret's off to Madame
          Tam.  © By Rita Kempley  Washington Post.

          En fran*ais

                   Parce que le film de R*gis Wargnier raconte une
          belle histoire dramatique, parce que les prises de vue
          sont superbes, on peut avoir la tentation de ne voir en
          lui qu’un film-d*cor ou un roman photo mettant en sc*me
          les amours de trois personnages: Eliane, la riche
          propri*taire terrienne fran*aise (Catherine Deneuve),
          Jean-Baptiste, l'officier de marine et Camille, la jeune
          princesse annamite. Pourtant,comme le titre l'indique
          sans ambigu•t*, c'est bien l'Indochine qui est le sujet
          central du film, c'est-ˆ-dire le Vietnam sous domination
          fran*aise puisque le colonisateur se refusait ˆ d*signer
          autrement que par un terme g*ographique ce pays.

                   Ce film historique a une double ambition: celle
          de donner ˆ comprendre ˆ un public fran*ais ˆ la fois ce
          qu’ a *t* la colonisation fran*aise en Indochine et
          comment celle-ci s'est achev*e. D'o* le choix des ann*es
          1930 qui sont en effet les ann*es charni*res avec la
          crise *conomique et la mont*e du mouvement national qui
          se confond alors avec le mouvement communiste.  Fort
          justement, le film s'arr*te au lendemain du Front
          Populaire m*me si l'*pilogue *voque les accords de
          Gen*ve de 1954, car c'est bien dans les ann*es 1930 que
          tout se noue.

                 C'est aussi un film qui se devait de sacrifier ˆ
          certaines lois du genre romanesque qu'il est non
          seulement vain de lui reprocher mais qu'il faut se
          f*liciter de le voir utiliser comme autant de signes de
          reconnaissance pour un large public. Dans le m*me ordre
          d'id*es, les gros plans qui se d*tachent sur un fond
          flou n'ont aucunement pour fonction de minorer le
          contexte social car les personnages sont autant de
          personnages embl*matiques de la soci*t* coloniale
          fran*aise comme de la soci*t* vietnamienne colonis*e.
          C'est sur ce point particulier que nous voudrions faire
          porter notre propos.

                  La personnalisation des rapports ethniques et
          sociaux est en effet la meilleure fa*on pour un cin*aste
          de traduire des situations historiques complexes.  C'est
          ce que fait avec un rare bonheur R*gis Wargnier ˆ
          travers les personnages d'Eliane, du chef de la s*ret*,
          de Jean-Baptiste et de Camille.

               Eliane, la riche propri*taire fran*aise ˆ la t*te
          d'une plantation d'h*v*as repr*sente la colonisation
          *conomique fran*aise au Vietnam jusque dans la
          diversit*  des attitudes ˆ l'*gard des autochtones. Dure
          avec ses ouvriers ˆ qui elle fait donner le fouet,
          paternaliste avec ses domestiques, elle traite comme sa
          fille la jeune princesse annamite orpheline tout en lui
          d*niant le droit ˆ l'*mancipation. Ainsi la France
          capitaliste, r*publicaine et humaniste, a-t-elle domin*
          le peuple vietnamien, faisant ployer les petits et
          s'effor*ant d'attirer ˆ elle les *lites. Le choix de
          Catherine Deneuve est d'autant plus pertinent que, comme
          on le sait, cette actrice a servi de mod*le pour un des
          derniers bustes officiels de Marianne, symbole de la
          R*publique fran*aise.

                 Voici ensuite le chef de la s*ret*, d*sabus*,
          cynique mais v*ritable patron de la colonie.  Expert en
          surveillance et en r*pression "adapt*e": il n'en fait
          pas trop mais sait *tre impitoyable. On sait quel r™le
          la s*ret* a jou* en Indochine durant la premi*re moiti*
          du si*cle, succ*dant aux amiraux conqu*rants de la
          deuxi*me moiti*  du XIXe si*cle et pr*c*dant l'arm*e de
          terre (1945-1954) qui tentera en vain de s'opposer ˆ
          l'ind*pendance.

                 Le troisi*me personnage est l'officier de marine
          Jean-Baptiste, qui jouit d'un grand prestige ˆ la fois
          aupr*s de la soci*t* coloniale et de la soci*t*
          vietnamienne. Choix judicieux s'il en est lorsqu'on sait
          le r™le qu’ ont jou* dans l'histoire de la colonie
          fran*aise les officiers de marine.

                 Aupr*s de la belle propri*taire fran*aise, le
          marin l'emporte facilement sur le chef de la s*ret*,
          mais il fascine aussi la jeune princesse annamite. Il
          s'agit en fait d'une fascination mutuelle tant il est
          vrai que la civilisation vietnamienne a toujours exerc*
          un fort attrait sur les colonisateurs fran*ais et
          surtout les militaires. Cet attrait en l'occurence se
          traduit par la d*sertion du jeune officier et par son
          passage du c™t* des colonis*s, comme la guerre de
          1946-1954 en fournira quelques exemples.

                Enfin, la jeune Camille est un personnage plus
          complexe qu'il n'y para”t.  D'abord fille adoptive
          aimante d'Eliane, elle se d*tache peu ˆ  peu d'elle.
          Attir*e par le jeune officier de marine, elle est pr*te
          ˆ  tout pour le rejoindre.  Veut-on par lˆ sugg*rer
          qu'une domination de la marine e*t *t* accept*e par les
          *lites autochtones ou tout simplement que, comme dans le
          Maroc plus tard avec Lyautey, l'arm*e de m*tier fut plus
          respectueuse des civilisations locales que
          l'administration civile? Pourtant, ces rejetons des
          classes dirigeantes, au contact de la mis*re populaire,
          rompent peu ˆ peu avec la France et adh*rent au
          communisme.

                  Le long voyage de Camille ˆ travers l'Indochine
          est certainement un des moments clefs du film:  partie
          ˆ  la recherche du jeune officier de marine, elle
          d*couvre un peuple souffrant et fier qui a d*jˆorganis*
          la r*sistance.  Il est significatif que Camille ne
          veuille pas, apr*s la mort de celui-ci, reconna”tre
          l'enfant n* de son union avec l'officier fran*ais car d*
          sormais le compromis est impossible.  Son fils sera
          *lev* en France et dira plus tard ˆ  Eliane: "Ma m*re,
          c'est toi". Ainsi le moteur de l'action est-il ce peuple
          indochinois dont les souffrances provoquent la prise de
          conscience de ces jeunes notables qui se mettent plus ˆ
          son service qu'ˆ sa t*te, tel au Laos, ˆ la m*me *poque,
          le jeune prince Souphanouvong.

                 De nombreux autres *l*ments ajoutent ˆ  la
          cr*dibilit* historique du film: la somptuosit* des
          paysages montagneux et maritimes, la minutie de la
          reconstitution des int*rieurs et des sc*nes de la vie
          quotidienne.  Les d*lices de la vie coloniale sont
          montr*s sans complaisance mais sans exc*s comme sont
          montr*s le travail sur les plantations d'h*v*as, les
          m*thodes de recrutement des coolies, les attentats
          urbains des r*volutionnaires, les r*voltes paysannes de
          1930-1931 dans le Nghe-An, le bagne de Poulo Condore
          dont le gouvernement du Front Populaire fera ouvrir les
          portes.

                   Pour le cin*aste comme pour l'historien, il
          s'agit bien, avec des moyens diff*rents sinon de
          reconstituer la soci*t* du pass*, du moins d'en tracer
          les lignes de force et c'est ce qu'a su admirablement
          faire R*gis Wargnier dans ce minutieux et nostalgique
          Novecento indochinois.  © Jean SAGNES
          --------------------------------------------------------

          20. The Widow of Saint-Pierre - La Veuve de
          Saint-Pierre.  Dir. Patrice Leconte. DVD 0143  +
          Personal copy

          This somber film is a meditation on the mystery of human
          nature, asking how people can commit horrible deeds -
          and wonderful acts of kindness. Patrice Leconte, the
          director of Ridicule, reveals once again his talent for
          creating the mood of a particular time and place. The
          date is 1849, and the setting the  islands of
          Saint-Pierre and Miquelon. Images of fog, waves, and
          snow emphasize the harshness of the climate and the
          isolation of the inhabitants. After fatally stabbing an
          old man,Neel Auguste, a fisherman, is sentenced to
          death. But the execution must be delayed until a
          guillotine (the veuve of the title) can be obtained, as
          mandated by the Second Republic. In the meantime, the
          wife of the captain of the garrison, known as Madame La
          (as in la Capitaine), played by Juliette Binoche, has
          made it her mission to improve the prisoner's situation.
          As the veuve makes its fateful journey, Neel wins the
          affection and loyalty of the people of the island.

          Madame La first approaches the prisoner with her husband
          to ask whether he would be willing to help her grow
          plants in the courtyard. Their efforts to sustain
          flowering plants in this harsh climate acquire immediate
          metaphorical significance. A believer in redemption,
          Madame La tells her husband, "Les hommes peuvent *tre
          mauvais un jour et bons le lendemain [ ... ils changent,
          de *a je suis s*re." As she and Neel grow closer, there
          is only the most subtle expression of sexual interest,
          when he touches her finger with his as they trace words
          on the page. But for Madame La, the prisoner is like a
          child whom she wants to educate and protect. Indeed, her
          troubled reaction upon being asked whether she has
          children implies that she and her husband have been
          unable to conceive.

          This is certainly not for lack of passion, for Madame La
          is very much in love with her spouse, played by Daniel
          Auteuil. The captain's quiet intensity and cold defiance
          may inspire fear, but he is the picture of gentle
          devotion to his wife. His support of her charitable
          undertaking attracts criticism from the governor, and
          the risks to his career loom large. From its opening
          moments, the film flirts with the double meaning of the
          word veuve: we first see Madame La wearing black at the
          far end of a room, as the camera slowly approaches her.

          Leconte frequently uses the camera to represent point of
          view. As  the prisoners ride in a cart, the camera
          shakes with the motion of the vehicle, following the
          hostile faces of onlookers. Upon being led to his cell,
          Neel sees Madame La tending to her garden; we follow his
          gaze from her face to the small plant in her hand and
          back to her face again. The camera has an unflinching
          persistence that lets images speak for themselves,
          without idealizing them. An early scene shows the hands
          of fishermen gutting fish. Later we see Neel's hands
          gesturing despondently through the bars of his tiny
          window. Frequent close-ups force the viewer to see each
          character straight on.  This technique becomes almost a
          moral imperative when Madame La dramatically points to
          her prot*g*'s throat and demands that his humanity be
          acknowledged. Emir Kusturica,the actor who plays Neel,
          manages to display dignity, resignation, and tenderness,
          without ever exaggerating or sentimentalizing his
          character.

          In the classroom, this movie could inspire debate over
          the death penalty and the power of the state. If
          students are instructed to pay attention to the use of
          "tu" and "vous", they may  notice that the captain uses
          "tu" with Neel, while Madame La shows him respect by
          addressing him as "vous". This film is likely to inspire
          strong reactions in students and will not leave any
          viewer indifferent.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          21. L'auberge espagnole  (2002)   Dir. C*dric Klapish

          L'id*e de L'Auberge espagnole est venue ˆ Klapisch des
          souvenirs du s*jour ˆ Barcelone qu'avait effectu* sa
          soeur il y a dix ans. R*alis* dans l'urgence, le film
          n'est autre qu'un projet imagin* presque par accident
          lors d'une interruption sur la pr*paration de Ni pour,
          ni contre (bien au contraire).. Le casting de la com*die
          coll*giale a permis ˆ Klapisch de visiter plusieurs
          capitales europ*ennes ˆ la recherche des *tudiants
          Erasmus destin*s ˆ peupler l'auberge, et par lˆ m*me de
          confirmer plusieurs clich*s r*pandus sur les diverses
          nationalit*s: "Lors du casting au Danemark, tous les
          acteurs sont arriv*s avec un quart d'heure d'avance; en
          Italie, tous le monde est arriv* une heure en retard!".

          Quelques hyperliens:
          http://www.marsfilms.com/auberge
          http://www.ecrannoir.fr/real/france/klapisch.htm

          Xavier, un *tudiant parisien de 25 ans, se fait offrir
          par un ami de son p*re un emploi au minist*re des
          finances. Mais le poste requ*rant une bonne connaissance
          de l'espagnol, le jeune homme accepte de s*journer un an
          ˆ Barcelone. Ë son arriv*e, il est h*berg*
          temporairement par le neurologue fran*ais Jean-Michel et
          son *pouse, la r*serv*e Anne-Sophie. Puis Xavier
          s'installe dans un appartement avec cinq autres
          *tudiants, l'Anglaise Wendy, l'Italien Alessandro,
          l'Allemand Barnabi, le Danois Lars et sa copine
          andalouse Soledad. Peu apr*s, Isabelle, une Wallonne
          lesbienne, devient la septi*me colocataire. Gr‰ce ˆ ses
          conseils, Xavier parvient ˆ s*duire Anne-Sophie, peu de
          temps avant que Martine, la petite amie de l'*tudiant
          rest*e ˆ Paris, d*cide de rompre avec lui.

          Xavier (Romain Duris), a bland aspiring writer in his
          early twenties, opts to study in Barcelona for a year,
          leaving behind snotty girlfriend Martine (Audrey Tautou)
          and landing in a ramshackle flat populated by Italian,
          Danish, English, German, Spanish, and Belgian residents.
          Tautou's presence underlines Klapisch's lunges at
          Jeunet-brand whimsyÑsped-up sequences, multiple
          exposures, animated maps, talking photographsÑwhile the
          bloated narrative suffers most from Klapisch's overly
          democratic approach to his collegiate European Union.
          He's less evenhanded in parceling out stereotypes. We've
          got the lager-lout Brit and the rigid German, as well as
          the repressed married woman, Anne-Sophie (Judith
          Godr*che), who just needs one good ****Ñfrom boring
          Xavier, natch. There's a moral to all this, of course:
          Follow That Dream! If you need a dose of post-adolescent
          bombast, go with whatever Real World descendant is
          readily available: more skin, no message.
          <http://www.villagevoice.com/issues/0320/winter.php>

          Ou si vous pr*f*rez une critique plus positive...

          "L'Auberge Espagnole" presents an appealing and
          persuasive picture of European integration, in which
          national differences, which once sparked military and
          political conflict, are preserved because they make life
          sexier and more interesting. The ending, though, feels
          like a bit of a cop-out, as Mr. Klapisch decides that
          Xavier's pleasant year abroad must yield a lesson. The
          ending suggests that the bureaucratic routines of
          Xavier's job with the European Union are antithetical to
          the freedom and chaos he savored in Barcelona. They are,
          but only superficially, since they are aspects of the
          same phenomenon: the transformation of Europe from a
          battleground to a consumerist, hedonist playground.

          Americans, on the other hand, are not so fortunate as to
          be completely overlooked. The token Yankee is a
          guitar-slinging cowboy boytoy from Santa Fe, who is
          (justifiably) referred to as 'stupid American' at least
          once and whose few lines consist primarily of howling
          like a dog. His appearance is brief, though, not long
          enough to really bother me very much.

          However, it wouldn't have bothered me at all had the
          film not gone out of its way to dismantle this sorts of
          stereotype as it is applied to Europeans. This occurs
          when a younger brother visits the crew and quickly
          alienates himself from everyone with his insensitive
          cariacatures of various European nationalities (the anal
          German, the messy Italian, the mumbling Frenchman). The
          filmmakers clearly want the audience to be irritated
          because in the backlash against these ridiculous
          stereotypes, they will be better able to recognize their
          own European-ness.

          American stereotypes, however, are apparently still fair
          game, and it just feels like a cheap shot. Because of
          this, and contrary to some claims, I would argue that
          this film is not about promoting cross-border
          understanding generally; rather, it's exclusively about
          forging a European identity (and a Western European one,
          at that).

          The other thing which annoyed me was the stereotyping -
          Anne-Sophie is portrayed as a stuck-up French bitch and
          Wendy as a typically sex-mad unfaithful English girl.
          The German is portrayed as "typically" having no humour
          when the English Girl's brother makes jokes to him about
          the Germans. This sort of stereotyping is all well and
          good but it could be done more intelligently. Also,
          certain others of the characters we learn little about -
          the Italian, the Dane. I thought the Belgian lesbian had
          her character developed a little more. The central
          character the Frenchman had, I thought a very weak and
          diluted character and seemed just unable to take it all
          in ( too much pot, I suppose ). Audrey Tautou's tantrums
          were unnecessary and she was nowhere near as interesting
          as in "Am*lie Poulain". All in all, a bit of a washout

          Although there are quite a few familiar situations, they
          are irritatingly clich* and do not go beyond the trivial
          events. This made the movie uninteresting to watch, and
          gave me a strong
          "been-there-done-that-don't-you-have-anything-to-add?"
          feeling. Apart from that, the movie lacks a firm story.
          It sometimes looks more like a documentary or
          'real-life' show than a seriously made movie.

          Indeed the most interesting part is the everyday life in
          the Auberge Espagnole (Potluck Party Year could be an
          informal translation). Not the life of Xavier at large.
          Xavier is like Tintin or Am*lie: you follow him without
          questions but you never identify with him. But Klapisch
          is not Herg* or Jeunet as his vision get mixed up in a
          short-sighted reality.

          What eventually makes it a nice little movie is: 1/ the
          pace (no time to get bored as in more self-concerned
          movies) 2/ the focus of various issues catering for
          young Europeans, 20 to 28 year-old (sex and love and
          life at large in a Friends-like happy-go-lucky
          atmosphere)  What makes it only a little movie is the
          lack of strength in Xavier's characterization out of
          L'auberge Espagnole. Prolog and epilogue, before and
          after Barcelona sequences are wooden; like some
          long-time student work. As for me the whole movie should
          have taken place in Barcelona.

          The movie is filled with colourful people, all of them
          stereotypes (the British twat and her racist brother,
          the sexually liberated Dane, the ultra-organised
          German,...). In this case though, the stereotypes are
          brilliantly done. You feel like you know people like
          that (I for one know an arrogant doctor and his trophy
          wife, and they're just like the characters in the
          film!), they feel like REAL PEOPLE!

          For an American audience, the only disheartening aspect
          is that in this lovefest the odd man out may very well
          be . . . us. "L'Auberge Espagnole" has only one American
          character, and he's a complete imbecile, going around
          with an acoustic guitar. Needless to say, only the
          English girl will have anything to do with him, and even
          she knows he's an idiot. . This film contains strong
          language. © by Cynthia Fuchs - PopMatters Film and TV
          Editor .
 
 

8. La vie r*v*e des anges  DVD 0177 + personal copy

          La vie r*v*e des anges est u n film important qui
          d*peint la vie de deux jeunes Fran*aises dÕorigine
          modeste luttant contre quelque chose de plus grand
          quÕelles-m*mes - les passions, la hi*rarchie sociale et
          *conomique, le pass* -  dans lÕEurope post-industrielle,
          moderne.

          Repr*sentant la France aux Oscars de 1998, La vie r*v*e
          des anges est une oeuvre dramatique port*e par la force
          de deux com*diennes et deux personnages. Elodie Bouchez
          (Isa) et Natacha R*gnier (Marie), qui furent justement
          r*compens*es par un double prix dÕinterpr*tation
          f*minine au 51*me festival de Cannes.

          Situ* ˆ Lille ˆ la fin des ann*es 90 et racont* dÕune
          mani*re lin*aire, le film poss*de une structure assez
          rigoureuse qui rel*ve dÕune s*rie de contrastes et de
          substitutions. Optimiste, brune et nomade, vivant de
          petits boulots et voyageant avec son sac ˆ dos, Isa
          suscite des souvenirs cin*matographiques, du moins dans
          les premi*es s*quences,  en rappelant le personnage
          errant de Mona dans "Sans toit ni loi"  de Varda. Par
          contre, plut™t mal dans sa peau, Marie fait contraste
          avec sa camarade. Critique et arr*t*e dans ses opinions,
          sujette aux exc*s de col*re et gouvern*e par des d*sirs
          quÕelle ne parvient pas ˆ articuler, elle habite depuis
          toujours Lille et sa banlieue. Amies de hasard, toutes
          les deux cherchent, souvent ˆ leur insu, ˆ vivre et
          r*aliser des r*ves. Pour Isa, il sÕagit de r*ussir sa
          vie sentimentale imm*diate, de cr*er un peu dÕharmonie
          autour dÕelle en vivant au jour lejour sans jamais
          couper les ponts avec le pass*. Pour Marie, quoiquÕelle
          ne le dise pas explicitement, il sÕagit de ÒsÕen
          sortirÓ, de quitter la vie de p*nurie m*diocre quÕelle a
          toujours connue et ce, au moyen dÕune liaison avec
          Chriss, un riche gar*on bourgeois qui, au fond, la
          m*prise. On la sent vivement marqu*e par une profonde
          mais tacite humiliation sociale qui, contracditoirement,
          la pousse ˆ rechercher ce qui lui fait mal et la
          r*pugne. CÕest justement une des r*ussites dans le jeu
          de R*gnier et dans le tournage de Zonca que de voir
          cette attraction-r*pulsion dans la gestuelle de Marie:
          elle communique dans les mouvements de son corps tout ce
          qui ne se dit que trop tard dans le film.

          Zonca organise et enrichit son oeuvre avec quelques
          relations de substitution et de r*p*tition. Isa et Marie
          squattent chez une dame bourgeoise et sa fille toutes
          les deux dans le coma ˆ lÕh™pital, victimes dÕun
          accident dÕauto.  Parasitaires, elles sÕaccaparent
          visiblement des traits des deux absentes. Isa,
          enfantine, lit et reprend le journal intime de la
          fillette alors que Marie met des robes de la m*re et
          cherche un bonheur impossible avec un type qui nÕest pas
          de son rang social.

          Le r*ve de sÕen sortir se dissiple brutalement ˆ la fin
          du film o*, au lieu dÕune ascension vers les anges il y
          a une chute vers le bas. La m*re est morte ˆ lÕh™pital
          et Marie - plaqu*e par Chriss ? se suicide en se
          laissant tomber plus quÕelle ne se jette dÕune fen*tre.
          Isa, qui a d*but* dans une fabrique de couture, finit,
          dans la derni*re s*quence du film, par travailler ˆ la
          cha”ne dans une fabrique aseptis*e dÕordinateurs. Zonca
          semble nous dire que lÕhistoire semble pr*te ˆ se
          r*p*ter avec les m*mes personnages: il sÕagirait tout
          simplememt de changer de d*cor en modernisant un peu.

          Ainsi, dans La vie r*v*e des anges, Zonca fait une
          critique sociale s*v*re ˆ la mani*re du Truffaut des 400
          coups, cÕest-ˆ-dire, il *vite le didactisme en faisant
          appel ˆ une identification forte avec la vie et le sort
          de jeunes personnages s*duisants pris dans un ensemble
          qui les d*passe. Il en r*sulte une oeuvre
          cin*matographique dÕune rare qualit*. - French Review
          --------------------------------------------------------

          9. Jean de Florette (122 min.) (1986)  Claude Berri
          [1733]  - From Marcel Pagnol's novel, L'eau des collines

              Provence, ann*es 20. Jean s'installe avec sa femme
          et sa fille Manon dans une ferme qu'il vient d'h*riter.
          Il veut y faire un *levage de lapins et cultiver des
          l*gumes. C'est sans compter sur la convoitise de ses
          voisins, le Papet et Ugolin, qui ont bouch* la pr*cieuse
          source de Jean avant son arriv*e.

                If you were to walk into the middle of "Jean de
          Florette," you would see a scene that might mislead you.
          In the middle of a drought, a farmer is desperate to
          borrow a mule to help haul water from a nearby spring.
          He asks his neighbor for the loan of the animal.  The
          neighbor is filled with compassion and sympathy, but
          simply cannot do without his mule, which he needs in
          order to farm his own land and provide for his own
          family. As the neighbor rejects the request, his face is
          so filled with regret you'd have little doubt he is one
          of the best of men.  Actually, he is a thief.  And what
          he is stealing is the joy, the hope and even the future
          of the man who needs the mule. "Jean de Florette" is a
          merciless study in human nature, set in Provence in the
          1920s.  It's the story of how two provincial French
          farmers systematically destroy the happiness of a man
          who comes out from the city to till the land.

                The man from the city is Jean de Florette, a
          hunchback tax collector played by G*rard Depardieu, that
          most dependable of French actors.  When he inherits a
          little land in Provence, he is only too happy to pack up
          his loyal wife and beautiful child and move to the
          country for a new beginning.  He wants to raise
          vegetables and rabbits on the land, which, according to
          the map, includes a fresh water spring. His neighbors
          have other ideas. The old local farmer and his son long
          have had their eyes on that land, and they realize if
          they can discourage the newcomer they can buy the land
          cheap. So they do what is necessary. They block the
          spring with concrete, conceal its location and wait to
          see what happens.

               At first, nothing much happens. There are steady
          rains, the vegetables grow and the rabbits multiply.
          Then comes the drought, and Monsieur Jean is forced to
          bring water from a neighboring well, using his mule and
          his own strength, turning himself into a beast of
          burden. From morning to night he plods back and forth
          under the burning sun, and his wife helps when she can,
          but the burden is too much and the land surely will die.
          It is then that he asks for the loan of Hugolin's mule,
          and is turned down.

                 The director, Claude Berri, does not tell this
          story as a melodrama; all of the motives are laid out
          well in advance, and it is perfectly clear what is going
          to happen. The point of the film is not to create
          suspense, but to capture the relentlessness of human
          greed, the feeling that the land is so important the
          human spirit can be sacrificed to it. To create this
          feeling, Berri stands well back with his camera. There
          are not a lot of highly charged closeups, to turn the
          story into a series of phony high points. Instead, so
          many of the shots are surrounded by the landscape and
          the sky, and there is one enormously dramatic set piece
          when the sky fills up with rain clouds, and the thunder
          roars and the rain seems about to come. And then, as
          Jean de Florette and his family run outside to feel it
          against their faces, the rain falls elsewhere and Jean
          shakes his fist at the heavens and asks God why he has
          been forsaken.

                But God has not double-crossed him, his neighbors
          have. And the enormity of their crime is underlined by
          the deliberate pace of this film, which is the first
          installment of a two-part epic. We realize here that
          human greed is patient, and can wait years for its
          reward. And meantime daily life goes on in Provence, and
          neighbors pass the time of day and regret that it is
          impossible to make a loan of a mule. © Roger Ebert
          --------------------------------------------------------

          10. Manon des Sources (1987) Claude Berri (113 min.) -
          1734

               Dix ans ont pass* depuis la mort de Jean de
          Florette. Manon a 18 ans et s'occupe de ses ch*vres dans
          les collines. L'heure est arriv*e de se venger contre le
          Papet, Ugolin et le village tout entier.

                Ten years have passed since the tragic events of
          Jean de Florette. Jean's daughter, Manon, is now a
          beautiful young shepherdhess, roaming the rugged
          Proven*al hills. The frustrated Ugolin is desesperately
          in love with the untamed woman. But Manon is repulsed by
          the hapless man's pursuit.  After cutting off the
          village's water supply, Manon appears in town to accuse
          the Soubeyrans of killing her father. Ugolin, remorseful
          over his role in her father's death, throws himself at
          her feet. But her public rejection of him proves too
          much to bear, and leads to a tragedy that nearly
          destroys C*sar. The old man's most heartbreaking moment
          comes when when he finally learns the shattering truth
          about Jean, the son of Florette.

          A Film Review by Roger Ebert

                 There is something to be said for a long story
          that unfolds with an inexorable justice. In recent
          movies we've become accustomed to stories that explode
          into dozens of tiny dim-witted pieces of action, all
          unrelated toeach other. Cars hurtle through the air,
          victims are peppered with gunshot holes, heroes spit out
          clever one-liners, and at the end of it all, what are we
          left with? Our hands close on empty air.

               "Manon of the Spring," which is the conclusion of
          the story that began with "Jean de Florette," is the
          opposite kind of movie. It moves with a majestic pacing
          over the affairs of four generations, demonstrating that
          the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.
          Although "Manon" is self-contained and can be understood
          without having seen "Jean de Florette," the full impact
          of this work depends on seeing the whole story, right
          from the beginning; only then does the ending have its
          full force.

               In "Jean de Florette," as you may recall, a young
          hunchbacked man from Paris (G*rard Depardieu) came with
          his wife and infant daughter to farm some land he had
          inherited in a rural section of France. The locals did
          not greet him kindly, and one of the local patriarchs
          (Yves Montand) sabotaged his efforts by blocking the
          spring that fed his land. The young man worked morning
          to night to haul water for the vegetables and rabbit
          foodthat he wished to grow, but in the end the effort
          killed him.  Montand and his worthless nephew (Daniel
          Auteuil) were then able to buy the land cheaply.

                  Montand's plot against the hunchback was
          incredibly cruel, but the movie was at pains to explain
          that Montand was not gratuitously evil. His most
          important values centered on the continuity of land and
          family, and in his mind his plot against Depardieu was
          justified by the need to defend the land against an
          "outsider." As "Manon of the Spring" opens, some years
          later, the unmarried and childless Montand is
          encouraging his nephew to find a woman and marry, so
          that the family name can be continued.

                 The nephew already has a bride in mind: the
          beautiful Manon (Emmanuelle B*art), daughter of the dead
          man, who tends goats on the mountain side and lives in
          poverty, although she has received a good education.
          Unfortunately for the nephew, he has a rival for her
          affections in the local school teacher. As the story
          unfolds, Manon discovers by accident that the nephew and
          his uncle blocked her father's spring. And when she
          accidentally discovers the source of the water for the
          whole village, she has her revenge by cutting off the
          water of those who killed her father.

                  All of this takes place with the implacable pace
          of a Greek tragedy. It sounds more melodramatic than it
          is, because the events themselves are not the issue
          here. The director, Claude Berri, has a larger point he
          wants to make, involving poetic justice on a scale that
          spans the generations. There are surprises at the end,
          which I do not choose to reveal, but they bring the
          whole story full circle, and Montand finally receives a
          punishment that is perfectly, even cruelly, suited to
          his crime.

                   Apart from its other qualities, "Manon of the
          Spring" announces the arrival of a strong and beautiful
          new actress from France, in Emmanuelle B*art. Already
          seen in some parts of the country in "Date With an
          Angel," a comedy in which she supplied the only
          redeeming virtue, she is very effective in this central
          role. This time she is sort of an avenging angel who
          punishes the old man and his nephew by giving them a
          glimpse of what could have been, for them, had they not
          been so cruel. © Roger Ebert
          --------------------------------------------------------

                   11.  With a Friend Like Harry  (personal copy)

          The Players: Laurent Lucas, Sergi L—pez, Mathilde
          Seigner, Sophie Guillemin

          The Play: Everyone needs a muse, and Michel's (Lucas) is
          his high-school friend Harry (L—pez). Appearing out of
          nowhere after 15 years, Harry reenters Michel's life and
          begins to smooth out all the rough edges that keep
          Michel frustrated and unable to pursue the writing
          career he abandoned. Car trouble? Here's a new one.
          Annoying parents? Dispensed with. It builds like a
          Hitchcock movieÑand that's not a name to be thrown
          around lightly when discussing thrillers. Mean, nasty
          fun.

          Coolest Scene: Harry approaches long-lost friend Michel
          in a highway men's room. You know you're in for a weird
          movie when you see the stalker-stare on Harry's face.
          You don't know if his perpetual smile means insanity or
          horniness, but you know it's going to end badly.

          Creepiest Scene: Michel discovers a shirtless,
          raw-egg?sucking Harry sitting alone in a dark kitchen in
          the middle of the night. Harry looks utterly innocent
          and always has an explanation for his actions, which
          makes it all the more unnerving.

          Cineast Factor: Strangely enough, writer/director
          Dominik Moll's first film, Intimacy, was also about a
          couple whose lives are interrupted by an interloper.

          Key Moment: Harry has memorized, in its entirety, an
          amateurish poem Michel wrote in high school. He recites
          it to the uncomfortable squirming of Michel and his
          wife.

          Date Movie? Yes. Find out what kind of person you're
          dating by whether they find Harry likable or psychotic.

          Reviewed by James Berardinelli

          For American audiences, who have become conditioned to
          certain staples and formulas defining the structure of
          nearly every mainstream psychological thriller, With a
          Friend Like Harry may seem like a breath of fresh air.
          It isn't that director Dominik Moll wanders too far from
          familiar territory, but the manner in which he crafts
          the movie allows him to reject (or at least deviate
          from) many of the most common clich*s. Consequently,
          With a Friend Like Harry is a more energetic and
          interesting entry than what one has come to expect from
          this overpopulated genre.

          In terms of its antecedents, With a Friend Like Harry
          owes less of a debt to recent thrillers (like The Hand
          that Rocks the Cradle and its brood) than to the
          collected work of Alfred Hitchcock. Moll pays homage to
          Hitchcock in ways that are sometimes subtle (characters'
          names being the same as those of principals in the
          Master of Suspense's films) and sometimes obvious
          (aspects of the plot recall those of Strangers on a
          Train). And, like Hitchcock, Moll peppers his picture
          with elements of dark and delicious wit.

          For Michel (Laurent Lucas) and Claire (Mathilde
          Seigner), the annual family summer vacation is starting
          off like a nightmare - the car is not air conditioned,
          the baby is screaming, and the kids are misbehaving. By
          the time they reach a rest stop, the long hours in the
          car have taken their toll. There, in the men's room,
          Michel meets Harry (Sergi Lopez), a guy he hasn't seen
          in 20 years. Michel doesn't remember Harry, but Harry
          definitely remembers Michel. In almost no time, Harry
          has invited himself and his girlfriend, Plum (Sophie
          Guillemin), for a drink at Michel and Claire's. At
          first, Harry is the perfect guest - offering to help out
          with chores and even buying Michel and Claire a new car.
          But there's a darker side to Harry - his interest in
          Michel runs deeper than is healthy, expanding into the
          realm of obsession. On the evidence of one juvenile poem
          written decades ago, Harry believes that Michel has the
          potential to be a great writer, and that his talent
          should be nurtured, regardless of the price.

          Hitchcock's body of work isn't the only thing recalled
          by With a Friend Like Harry. Astute viewers may
          recognize a connection to the 1988 black
          comedy/thriller, Heathers. Both films feature a friend
          who helps eliminate the protagonist's problems via
          murder, and, in the process, gains the witting or
          unwitting complicity of the hero. The details are
          different, but many of the motivating themes are
          identical. In addition, the movies embrace the same
          gallows humor.

          Moll has fun toying with audience expectations. Several
          of the murders, which would be the centerpieces of
          similar American films, occur off-screen. On at least
          two occasions, there is enough ambiguity about what
          actually happens that it's possible to construct
          entirely different versions of the event. And, by
          constructing the ending the way he does, Moll is able to
          play with us while still presenting a conclusion that is
          satisfying and offers a sense of closure.

          As is almost always true of French films, the acting is
          top-notch. In the title role, Sergi Lopez (recently seen
          in An Affair of Love) manages the perfect balance
          between being a good-natured sap and a creepy, obsessed
          stalker. Laurent Lucas is rather bland - but that's by
          intent. Michel is supposed to be a passive individual
          and Lucas nails that portrayal. Mathilde Seigner has the
          rather thankless role of the long-suffering wife, and
          voluptuous Sophie Guillemin makes her presence known as
          Harry's impossible-to-ignore girlfriend, a role she
          plays with unimpeachable aplomb.

          With a Friend Like Harry has received plaudits
          everywhere it has been shown, in large part because Moll
          avoids the fatal trap into which a majority of thrillers
          fall - underestimating the audience's intelligence. With
          a Friend Like Harry boasts a smart script that isn't
          overwhelmed by needless contrivances and implausible
          twists. This is the kind of motion picture that, if he
          was still alive, Alfred Hitchcock would almost certainly
          have given his approval to.  © 2001 James Berardinelli

          --------------------------------------------------------

          12. Beaumarchais: The Scoundrel  (personal copy)

          Directed by Edouard Molinaro; written (in French, with
          English subtitles) by Molinaro and Jean-Claude
          Brisville, based on an unpublished work by Sacha Guitry.

          Pierre Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, the 18th-century
          rake, playwright and secret agent famous for
          accomplishments as varied as inventing a durable watch
          movement and writing "The Barber of Seville" and "The
          Marriage of Figaro," was undoubtedly a more compelling
          figure than the conniving aristocrat at the heart of
          Edouard Molinaro's lavish new costume drama. The
          director of "La Cage Aux Folles" brings broadly
          conventional strokes to the convoluted story of
          Beaumarchais' adventures.

          Sparing nothing in the way of lecherous winks or
          powdered wigs, not to mention those treacherous
          courtiers who were treated more wittily in the similarly
          elaborate "Ridicule," Molinaro creates a varied portrait
          but lets it remain dispassionate, without much momentum.

          The extravagant "Beaumarchais: The Scoundrel" has been a
          hit in France, but it holds less interest here, despite
          the presence of some stellar actors, mostly in small
          roles, and the fact that Beaumarchais' clandestine
          gun-running was a great help to the Colonies during the
          American Revolution. A gross, slovenly Benjamin Franklin
          makes a brief appearance.

          "Beaumarchais," with an avid, calculating performance
          from bright-eyed Fabrice Luchini in the title role,
          touches a great many bases, some of which feature the
          solemn, tight-corseted playthings who are de rigueur in
          historical pageantry staged on this decorative level.
          Sure enough, Beaumarchais proves as skillful at
          lady-killing as he is at literature or diplomacy. In
          between conquests (with whispery Sandrine Kiberlain as
          the most devoted of his admirers), he confides much
          hard-earned wisdom to a prot*g* named Gudin (Manuel
          Blanc), who has also known Voltaire.

          High-minded gossip abounds, as in: "Do you know what
          Voltaire says about Beaumarchais? He will never be
          Moli*re, because he prefers his life to his work."
          Beyond worrying about the writing that would later be
          adapted by Mozart and Rossini, Beaumarchais is seen
          defending himself in a petty but famous lawsuit that
          greatly reduced his circumstances for a while; becoming
          the private emissary of a cantankerous Louis XV (Michel
          Serrault), whose cousin, the Prince de Conti, is played
          by Michel Piccoli, and venturing discreetly to England
          to retrieve an attack plan from a clever, cross-dressing
          spy.

          There is also a sojourn or two in jail, and there are
          scenes set in the theater, where Beaumarchais advocated
          the notion of authors' rights. But the cumulative effect
          of these events is lessened by the film's way of placing
          equal emphasis on each of them and by never looking very
          closely at the true Beaumarchais.

          "I'm not crazy enough to pretend that I understand
          Beaumarchais," Luchini has said. It's easy to see why
          this complicated man remains a mystery even to the actor
          who tries to inhabit his world.

          Molinaro partly based the film on an unpublished play by
          Sacha Guitry but noted that the material had no dramatic
          structure and remained a series of historical vignettes.
          For all its color and period detail, the film never
          solves that problem.  © By Janet Maslin, The New York
          Times
 

          "Beaumarchais, the Scoundrel"  is a glorious, giddy
          account of a tumultuous 11 years--1773 to 1784--in the
          life of the great French playwright. The author of "The
          Barber of Seville" and "The Marriage of Figaro" led an
          incredibly busy life as a political gadfly, taking aim
          at corruption in the ruling classes, serving as a royal
          spy, helping underwrite the American Revolution, living
          by his wits and pursuing beautiful women.

          The son of a watchmaker, Beaumarchais devised the
          movement, still used, with which a watch keeps accurate
          time, and he married his way to the top of the social
          ladder. (Twice widowed, he was accused by his enemies of
          doing away with his wives.) He was also a magistrate and
          a lord of the hunt.

          Not surprisingly, the legend of Beaumarchais attracted
          actor-writer-director Sacha Guitry, himself a legend,
          who brought to his plays and films a sly, humanizing
          touch to the lives of royals and other historic figures.
          No less surprising, director Edouard Molinaro, famed for
          "La Cage aux Folles" and for many other delightful
          French comedies, was tantalized by the prospect of
          filming an unproduced Guitry play on Beaumarchais.

          Retaining some 30% of Guitry's dialogue, Molinaro and
          his co-writer Jean-Claude Brisville devised an inspired
          script that's like a piece of lacy iron filigree--light
          and fanciful but sturdy--that sparkles with wit while
          zapping an oppressive monarchist government. In Molinaro
          and Brisville's imaginative hands, Beaumarchais emerges
          as a modern thinker and a prophet of his times,
          anticipating the American Revolution so soon to come.

          Molinaro has said that without Fabrice Luchini he would
          have never made the film, and unless Guitry had risen
          from the grave, it is impossible to imagine anyone else
          in the role of Beaumarchais. That Luchini is slight and
          unhandsome merely serves to underline the intense
          magnetism of his wit, intellect and personality. He's
          such a commanding presence, his sense of timing and
          movement so acute, that he actually did steal scenes--or
          close to it--from G*rard Depardieu in "Colonel Chabert."
          Luchini radiates confidence and authority with the
          throwaway gallantry so characteristic of Guitry himself.
          He's a miracle of discipline--and spontaneity.

          Bouncing in and out of ladies' beds and various jails
          for assaults on the ancien regime, Beaumarchais takes on
          the corrupt Court of Lords. He wins his case with the
          public but winds up stripped of his livelihood, his
          title and the right to stage his plays.

          Coming to his rescue, thanks to the intervention of the
          Prince de Conti (Michel Piccoli), is the king himself,
          Louis XV (Michel Serrault), who saves Beaumarchais by
          pressing him into service as a secret agent. He is
          dispatched to London to retrieve an attack plan on
          England from a glamorous spy (Claire Nebout), apparently
          a transvestite.

          It is during this mission that he becomes involved with
          the fast-approaching American Revolution. Gun-smuggling
          to the colonies, love affairs and other adventures
          culminate in his staging of "The Marriage of Figaro,"
          whose premiere has the effect of firing the first shot
          in the French Revolution.

          "Beaumarchais," filmed gorgeously at Versailles and
          other historic locales, has that flawless period feel,
          here enhanced by elegant classical music of the era
          incorporated into a lovely score, that so many European
          pictures do so well. It is a film of telling nuance and
          gesture, none more memorable than a moment when a
          nobleman, encountering Beaumarchais in the Hall of
          Mirrors, tries to humiliate him by asking him to repair
          his exquisite and delicate pocket watch. Ever so deftly
          Beaumarchais manages to let it tumble from his hands and
          smash to pieces on the parquet. © Kevin Thomas, The Los
          Angeles Times

          Beaumarchais, lÕinsolent

          Musicien et inventeur, homme d'affaires et fin
          politique, diplomate et marchand d'armes, *diteur,
          pol*miste, libertin et homme de lettres, Beaumarchais
          est ˆ l'image de son si*cle, le XVIIIe : un
          touche-ˆ-tout *pris de libert*, de connaissances et
          passionn* par l'action. Un film - Beaumarchais,
          l'insolent - , sorti avec succ*s en mars 1996 en France,
          nous invite ˆ red*couvrir un personnage dont la richesse
          ne saurait *tre *puis*e par ce film, par les livres qui
          lui sont consacr*s ou ces quelques lignes...

          Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais (1732-1799),
          l'auteur du Barbier de S*ville  et du Mariage de Figaro,
          fait irruption sur la sc*ne fran*aise en dehors de toute
          c*l*bration officielle. Nul anniversaire de naissance ou
          de mort, mais un film, d'Edouard Molinaro, ressuscite ce
          personnage inclassable du XVIIIe si*cle. Un seul acteur
          fran*ais, peut-*tre, pouvait l'interpr*ter avec l*g*ret*
          : Fabrice Luchini, accompagn* dans ses diverses
          entreprises par une pl*iade de com*diens de renom
          (Michel Serrault, Michel Piccoli, Jean-Claude Brialy) et
          de talents prometteurs (Sandrine Kiberlain, Manuel
          Blanc).  Fantaisie enjou*e, ce film pr*sente une tranche
          de vie d'un homme qui en mena toujours plusieurs ˆ la
          fois. Sont ainsi travers*es entre 1775 et 1784 - dates
          de la repr*sentation de ses deux pi*ces ˆ succ*s - dix
          ann*es d*cisives de l'existence agit*e de Beaumarchais.
          Illustrant la devise de Voltaire, Ç rien de ce qui est
          humain ne m'est *tranger È, Beaumarchais semble trop
          int*ress* par la vie pour se limiter ˆ la cr*ation d'une
          oeuvre. A travers les p*rip*ties romanesques de la vie
          de Beaumarchais, le film nous fait ainsi d*couvrir les
          multiples facettes de l'auteur dramatique : magistrat,
          n'h*sitant pas ˆ s'attaquer aux princes de sang et au
          Parlement, conseiller occulte des rois Louis XV et Louis
          XVI, munitionnaire des insurg*s am*ricains, n*gociant,
          *poux et ami volage.  Fabrice Luchini campe un
          Beaumarchais insaisissable, avec les d*fauts de ses
          qualit*s, talentueux mais parfois d*cevant, infid*le et
          changeant. Le com*dien a l'aplomb et le panache du
          personnage, sa folie latente, son audace pleine de
          vitalit*. Sur ses traces, le film nous fait suivre la
          course ˆ la gloire, ˆ la fortune et au bonheur d'un
          homme ˆ la crois*e des grandes aventures du XVIIIe
          si*cle et ˆ la charni*re de deux *poques : celle de
          l'Ancien R*gime finissant et celle, moderne, qui
          s'ouvrira avec la R*volution de 1789.

          Si l'on a sans doute exag*r*, r*trospectivement, le r™le
          du Mariage de Figaro  dans le d*clenchement de la
          R*volution fran*aise, cette derni*re voyait dans la
          pi*ce un symbole de l'opposition ˆ l'arbitraire et aux
          abus. Et il est ind*niable que les aventures du valet
          Figaro refl*tent bien l'esprit contestataire de l'*poque
          et les aspirations du Tiers Etat, qui allait faire la
          R*volution. Pour autant, Beaumarchais n'est ni un
          th*oricien ni un r*volutionnaire. Fils d'un horloger de
          la bourgeoisie parisienne cultiv*e et horloger lui-m*me,
          il sera anobli par son premier mariage et fera son
          entr*e ˆ la cour comme ma”tre de harpe des filles de
          Louis XV. Ambitieux et opportuniste, il briguera
          toujours les charges et les honneurs. Ses pi*ces
          t*moignent, ainsi, de la mont*e en puissance de la
          bourgeoisie, dont il exprimera, par le biais de son
          double Figaro, le d*sir d'ascension sociale et de
          reconnaissance politique, dans une soci*t* bloqu*e.

          Le souffle de la R*volution

          En bon h*ritier de Diderot et de son ma”tre Voltaire,
          dont il *ditera les oeuvres compl*tes, Beaumarchais
          s'inscrit dans la lign*e de la libre-pens*e des
          Lumi*res. Partisan de l'*galit* de tous devant la loi,
          que la R*volution allait instaurer, il attaque les
          privil*ges ; amoureux de la libert*, il d*nonce
          malicieusement la censure ; repr*sentant de la
          bourgeoisie, qui s'*l*ve par son m*rite, il fait tenir ˆ
          peu de choses la sup*riorit* pr*tendue naturelle de
          l'aristocratie : Ç Parce que vous *tes un grand
          seigneur, vous vous croyez un grand g*nie [...]
          Qu'avez-vous fait pour tant de biens ? Vous vous *tes
          donn* la peine de na”tre et rien de plus È, d*clare
          Figaro au comte. Et sur l'air d'une chanson, qui cl™t le
          Mariage de Figaro, Beaumarchais persiste et signe:  Ç
          Par le sort de la naissance, l'un est roi, l'autre est
          berger, le hasard fit leur distance, l'esprit seul peut
          tout changer È, qui avec sa l*g*ret* bon enfant,
          contient pas moins que la remise en question de la
          sup*riorit* de la noblesse de Ç sang bleu È. La bonne
          soci*t* ne sera, pourtant, pas la derni*re ˆ savourer
          ces pointes frondeuses, incapable d'imaginer l'imminence
          d'une r*volution.

          Moins subversives que les Lettres persanes de
          Montesquieu ou le Candide  de Voltaire, ces pi*ces
          puisent, peut-*tre, leur force dans le fait qu'elles
          furent *crites pour toucher et plaire au plus grand
          nombre, ce qu'elles firent  au-delˆ de toute esp*rance.
          Le Mariage de Figaro  fut, en effet, le plus grand
          succ*s th*‰tral du si*cle, amplifi* par une rumeur de
          scandale, ses difficult*s ˆ *tre jou*, la censure de
          Louis XVI l'ayant interdit pendant trois ans avant sa
          cr*ation en 1784. Consid*rable, ce succ*s sera couronn*
          par l'op*ra de Mozart, les Noces de Figaro,  en 1786.
          Trente ans plus tard, ce sera au tour de Rossini de
          mettre en musique le Barbier de S*ville  (1816).

          Le secret de ces deux pi*ces ? L'arme de Beaumarchais ?
          Le verbe qui fait mouche, l'ironie qui autorise toutes
          les insolences, la simplicit* du style, mais aussi la
          gaiet* de deux com*dies amusantes, pleines d'esprit et
          de rebondissements, dans la tradition de la commedia
          dell'arte italienne. Dans le Mariage de Figaro,  le
          comte Almaviva, qui se d*sint*resse de sa femme,
          voudrait bien faire valoir l'archa•que  Ç droit du
          seigneur È, symbole des privil*ges f*odaux, aupr*s de la
          future *pous*e de son valet Figaro. Mais cette derni*re,
          Suzanne, et la comtesse ne l'entendent pas ainsi et sont
          bien d*cid*es ˆ confondre l'infid*le, ˆ l'insu de
          Figaro, l'intelligent, insolent et entreprenant valet du
          Barbier de S*ville.

          Ni ces deux pi*ces ni le film de Molinaro ne sont des
          oeuvres ˆ th*se. Elles reposent avant tout sur une
          intrigue sentimentale. Toutefois, le Mariage de Figaro
          sera r*guli*rement interdit du Premier Empire jusqu'au
          r*gime de Vichy, que connut la France pendant la Seconde
          Guerre mondiale. Peut-*tre ˆ cause de la fameuse tirade
          qui tourne en d*rision l'hypocrisie des r*gimes o* r*gne
          la censure : Ç Pourvu que je ne parle en mes *crits ni
          de l'autorit*, ni du culte, ni de la politique, ni de la
          morale, ni des gens en place, ni des corps en cr*dit, ni
          de l'Op*ra, ni des autres spectacles ni de personne qui
          tienne ˆ quelque chose, je puis tout imprimer librement,
          sous l'inspection de deux ou trois censeurs. È

          Relevant, au passage, le paradoxe de la censure, qui se
          condamne ˆ amplifier l'impact de ce qu'elle interdit - Ç
          les sottises imprim*es n'ont d'importance qu'aux lieux
          o* l'on en g*ne le cours È -, Beaumarchais rappelle que
          Ç sans la libert* de bl‰mer, il n'est point d'*loge
          flatteur È. Ce sens de la formule, efficace et *l*gant ˆ
          la fois, se retrouve, par exemple, dans la d*finition
          que Figaro donne du m*tier de courtisan:   Ç Recevoir,
          prendre et demander : voilˆ le secret en trois mots. È
          M*me lucidit* lorsque l'auteur *pingle le jeu de dupes
          que r*serve aux femmes la galanterie des hommes : Ç Dans
          les rangs m*me les plus *lev*s, les femmes n'obtiennent
          de vous qu'une consid*ration d*risoire : leurr*es de
          respects apparents, dans une servitude r*elle, trait*es
          en mineures pour nos biens, punies en majeures pour nos
          fautes ! È Et il est vrai que ce sont les femmes, la
          comtesse et Suzanne, et non les roturiers contre les
          nobles, qui sortent victorieuses de cette pi*ce.

          L'agent secret du roi

          Cette verve, cet amour du bon mot, se retrouve dans le
          film, adapt* d'une pi*ce in*dite de Sacha Guitry, un des
          auteurs fran*ais les plus spirituels du d*but du si*cle,
          et servi avec bonheur par Fabrice Luchini, v*ritable Ç
          enrag* È de la langue fran*aise. Homme de th*‰tre, le
          com*dien est capable de faire vivre, seul sur sc*ne, des
          monuments de la litt*rature fran*aise comme le Voyage au
          bout de la nuit  de Ferdinand C*line. En repr*sentation
          permanente, terreur des animateurs de t*l*vision ou de
          radio, dont il bouscule les *missions bien huil*es,
          Fabrice Luchini vous aura peut-*tre enchant* dans Tout
          *a pour *a  de Claude Lelouch ou le Colonel Chabert,
          adapt* de Balzac, o* il joue un notaire retors aux c™t*s
          de G*rard Depardieu.

          A bien des *gards proche de Beaumarchais, Fabrice
          Luchini partage *galement avec l'illustre personnage le
          go*t de la s*duction et des contradictions. C'est que
          Beaumarchais ne craint pas de collectionner les
          paradoxes :  bourgeois anobli qui pourfend les
          privil*ges, magistrat qui met en cause l'int*grit* d'un
          membre du Parlement, homme d'affaires qui risque, et
          perd, une partie de sa fortune pour fournir des armes
          aux ÇInsurgents È am*ricains.  Beaumarchais n'est pas un
          philanthrope, mais un homme d'action g*n*reux et
          pragmatique, qui cherche toujours ˆ concilier ses
          int*r*ts priv*s avec le Ç bien public È, la grande
          affaire du XVIIIe si*cle.

          Priv* de tous ses droits par le Parlement qu'il
          attaquait, Beaumarchais part en Angleterre, comme agent
          secret du roi. Des diff*rentes missions qu'il effectua
          pour le compte du roi, le film retient la plus
          romanesque, qui mit Beaumarchais aux prises avec le
          chevalier d'Eon, l*gendaire espion du roi, dont
          l'identit* sexuelle resta ind*termin*e toute sa vie, et
          qui visait ˆ r*cup*rer une correspondance diplomatique
          fort compromettante pour les relations franco-anglaises.

          Son amour de la libert* et son refus de l'oppression
          d'un peuple par un autre am*neront Beaumarchais ˆ
          convaincre Louis XVI d'apporter, par son interm*diaire,
          un soutien militaire, important et secret, aux insurg*s
          am*ricains (1776-1778), dans leur guerre d'ind*pendance
          contre l'Angleterre, rivale de la France.

          Une des sc*nes les plus savoureuses du film nous montre
          Beaumarchais, traducteur de la d*claration
          d'ind*pendance des Etats-Unis d'Am*rique, faisant
          frissonner Louis XVI en lui apprenant l'existence du
          Çdroit le plus sacr* du peuple : le droit au bonheur È.
          En cela r*side, peut-*tre, le caract*re universel du
          message de Beaumarchais, toujours aussi actuel et
          subversif.  © Anne Rapin

          --------------------------------------------------------

          13. Queen Margot / La Reine Margot  - S-VT 3485

          AT HER MAJESTY'S PLEASURE: Vincent Perez and Isabelle
          Adjani are furtive lovers in Queen Margot.

          There are moments in QUEEN MARGOT that are as horrifying
          as any I have ever seen on film.  Heads are cracked
          open, guts are gouged, bodies are smashed and split and
          dumped into pits in scenes that bring to mind images of
          Holocaust slaughter.  Blood spurts everywhere; there's
          so much spilled that the palette of this production is
          not even crimson--it's a thick, matted maroon.  What
          would be outrageous in any other context is, however,
          mesmerizing in the hands of French director Patrice
          Ch*reau: It's 16th-century French history he's telling,
          and Ch*reau excels at making the dirt and rot and lusts
          and hatreds of 400 years ago come to life so vividly you
          can practically smell the unwashed bodies in the court
          of Catherine de M*dicis, where this brutal chapter takes
          place.

          The story, adapted from the novel by Alexandre Dumas, is
          that of Catherine's Catholic daughter, Marguerite of
          Valois, called Margot, who is married by her mother to
          the French leader of the (Protestant) Huguenots, Henry
          of Navarre, in a disastrous attempt to ease the ongoing
          fighting between the two religious factions and to
          protect her family's throne.

          In a plot dense with historical characters whose names
          and loyalties may not be immediately distinguishable,
          Ch*reau does something fresh: He dives in with momentum
          going going going so that you can feel the fury that
          fuels this insane holy war, letting individual heroes
          and villains emerge out of the muck, then sink back into
          their larger hell again. Margot's emotionally frayed
          older brother, Charles, for instance, who barely
          registers as the king for half the movie, becomes an
          extraordinary character by the story's climax. (In
          contrast, Steven Spielberg builds the power off
          Chindler's List, a movie of similar large, tragic scope,
          on a slow, step-by-step march to horror, introducing
          each character patiently and precisely.)

          But within his dark canvas, Ch*reau also beams points of
          light: In an alley littered with bleeding men, he
          creates a bold, arousing scene of anonymous sex between
          a prowling Margot and La M™le, the Huguenot who becomes
          her lover.  In the most fetid of settings, he caresses
          the faces and bodies of his actors with a sympathetic
          lens so that even a bit-part valet or lady-in-waiting
          projects real life. And Ch*reau contrasts the cool,
          mysterious, velvety beauty of Adjani--last seen here,
          much too long ago, in 1988's Camille Claudel- with the
          beaky, contained style of Auteuil, and again with the
          sensual energy of Perez.  There are nightmare scenes
          here, and you can't take your eyes off them.  There's a
          monster mother here, and you are thrilled by the
          skull-head stare of the magnificent Virna Lisi the way
          you thrilled at the schemes of Sian Phillips' Livia in
          I, Claudius. History has rarely been so gorgeously,
          electrically, sensuously portrayed. You'll want to go
          home and bathe.  ©Lisa Schwarzbaum

          Another Review by Edwin Jahiel

          Queen Margot covers one of the lesser-known chapters in
          France's history: in the late 16th century, relations
          between the Roman Catholic majority and the victimized
          Huguenot (Protestant) minority were at all-time low. An
          arranged, interfaith marriage between the Catholic
          Margot and the Huguenot Henry of Navarre should have
          eased the strain between the squabbling groups -- except
          that the royal wedding was a trap set by King Charles
          (Jean-Hugues Anglade) and his dragon-lady mother
          Catherine of Medici to lure Protestants to Paris, where
          several thousand celebrants were cornered and
          slaughtered by Catholic extremists in a Huguenot
          holocaust.

          But in Queen Margot's labyrinthine plot, that's just the
          beginning. From this devastating opening, the film
          shifts from the macro of social history to the micro of
          personal history: the intertwining lives of the lovers
          and fighters caught in the fallout. Because, as with
          many a wicked act, the massacre only begets further
          wickedness: poisonings, betrayals, plus lots and lots of
          lace-hanky-panky and the behind-closed-drawbridges
          couplings betweenmembers of opposing families (and
          sometimes even the same family). Detailing all that
          follows is impossible: the spider-web story from the
          novel by Alexandre Dumas (The Three Musketeers)
          introduces so many characters that, for the first little
          while, you can't tell a Papist from a Lutheran without a
          program.

          Thetwo-hour-and-20-minute Margot released here in North
          America is about 30 minutes shorter than it was in
          France: faster-moving, yes, but possibly less coherent.
          Pay attention, though, and you'll be rewardedwith
          terrific acting, gorgeous cinematography, high-style
          romanticism and the perennially popular spectacle of
          tragic things happening to good people.

          Margot's superb (and huge) cast brims over with some of
          France's brightest -- including Jean-Hugues Anglade as
          Catherine's son Charles. Anglade is one of the
          best-known French stars thanks to his roles in the
          recent Killing Zoe and as B*atrice Dalle's lover in
          Betty Blue. Like co-star Adjani, Anglade is an
          unbelievably young-looking 40, which suggests that if
          there is a fountain of youth, it's near wherever Margot
          was shooting. Also like Adjani, he's a major talent and
          delivers a remarkably complex performance.

          Anglade views Charles, his weak-willed, Hamlet-like
          monarch, as "based on a contradiction, and has many
          paradoxes. For an actor it's never boring toplay this
          kind of character. You have to play a different mood
          every day and that gives you the opportunity to express
          yourself in a very wide way."

          The actor deliberately kept Charles' relationship with
          Daniel Auteuil's Henry "ambiguous" because, as he puts
          it, "it's more exciting not to know everything, when you
          conserve certain secrets or mysteries, and that's the
          case between King Charles and Henri de Navarre. "When
          they are dining together," he continues, "they are
          playing mind games at the same shrewd level. It's a very
          interesting confrontation -- friendly, but they are also
          studying each other." There's such a lot going on in
          Margot that it's not giving away too much to reveal that
          Anglade also has a pretty spectacular death scene. "It
          was uncomfortable," he recalls, "and a bit disturbing.
          It's very difficult to imagine the agony. When you're
          acting as a person who's dying, you have to play without
          the main element in the situation: the pain. So it's
          very abstract." Instead, he drew upon his "own personal
          fear of death."

          The film's director, Patrice Ch*reau, is still best
          known on this side of the Atlantic for having directed a
          highly controversial version of Wagner's Ring Cycle in
          Germany in the early '80s (shown occasionally on PBS).
          But the radical re-re- thinking that Ch*reau brought to
          opera is not much in evidence here: Queen Margot is a
          pretty straightforward film -- though an exceptionally
          well-staged, well-photographed and (especially)
          well-acted one.  © Edwin Jahiel
          --------------------------------------------------------

          14.  Les Mis*rables (du vingti*me si*cle)  - Claude
          Lelouch  [inspired by Victor Hugo's  classic  novel] -
          S-VT 3534.

                 Les Mis*rables is the best example to date of the
          Lelouch vice/vertu. Not content to film Victor Hugo, he
          writes a (somewhat strained) analogous twentieth-century
          story, including World War II ; and he also interweaves
          scenes from the Hugo novel; and he interweaves clips
          from the 1934 film version. (In those clips we glimpse
          Jean Valjean as played by Harry Baur, who not so many
          years later, was tortured to death by the Germans in
          occupied Paris.)

                  The result, as narrative and as contrapuntal
          commentary, is a mess. But out of this overload some
          excellences arise. First is the cinematography by
          Philippe Pavans de Ceccaty, especiallly in the several
          snow scenes. When, in a nineteenth-century segment,
          Valjean is punished for a prison infraction by being
          locked in a curved outdoor cage in a snow storm, the
          image is so paradoxically exquisite that it creates an
          irony against the cruelty. Second, Jean-Paul Belmondo,
          who is Valjean and the twentieth-century Henri Fortin.
          What a power he is - he would be even if he were new to
          us. But like many aging film stars, he brings with him
          all the years we have spent with him, all the films of
          his we have seen, and these enrich was he does now. He
          is now 62, and, in every warm and fruitfuil way, he
          looks it.

               Good performances abound. Lelouch has summoned
          other old-timers to his cast. Monique Presle plays a
          Mother Superior with heaven on her face. Jean Marais,
          one of the most beautiful young men when he was in
          Cocteau’s films, is now one of the the mosty beautiful
          old men as the bishop whose candlesticks figure in
          Hugo’s best known episode. Michel Boujenah, as a Jewish
          lawyer harassed by Germans in this century, brings tacit
          depth to his role. The farm couple who give him refuge,
          Annie Girardot and Philippe L*otard, are excellent,
          especially L*otard, as his venality overcomes his
          charity.

              Lelouch's profligacy is sometimes silly. To welcome
          the advancing Allied armies, Presle has a long line of
          girls in her convent school play on about twenty pianos,
          "It’s a Long, Long Way to Tipperary."  Wouldn't ten
          pianos have been enough of too much? The crimes and
          solutions toward the end are incredible, and the
          neatness of the very ending, complete with a Fred
          Astaire song, cheats us, by its absurdity, of the tears
          we would like to have shed.  Still, in this three-hour
          ragout, there are a lot of savory chunks."  Stanley
          Hoffmann, The New Republic, November 20, 1995.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          15. Nelly et Monsieur Arnaud  Dir. Claude Sautet. S-VT
          3637

                 Une jeune femme, Nelly, *prouve quelques
          difficult*s ˆ vivre : cribl*e de dettes, son mari ˆ sa
          charge, allant de petits boulots en petits boulots, elle
          a du mal ˆ suivre. Un jour pourtant, elle fait la
          rencontre de Monsieur Arnaud, riche homme d'affaires et
          ancien magistrat qui lui propose de r*gler ses dettes et
          l'engage pour dactylographier sa biographie.  Elle
          accepte et quitte son mari.  Chaque jour elle va donc
          durant quelques heures taper cette biographie. Monsieur
          Arnaud tombe amoureux de cette fille plus jeune de 35
          ans mais elle s'*prend plut™t de l'*diteur de la future
          biographie. L'ambiance aux s*ances journali*res de
          dactylographie devient alors plus tendue.  Les
          confidences sont plus rares et les relations moins
          intimes. Finalement, comble du drame, Nelly casse avec
          l'*diteur et Monsieur Arnaud part en voyage avec son
          ex-femme dont le mari vient de mourir .

                   A film about trust, and emotional ordeal, Nelly
          et Monsieur Arnaud is reminiscent of Sautet's previous
          works, including the not dissimilar Un Coeur en hiver.
          B*art, as beautiful as ever, portrays a kind of feminine
          muse in her relationship with the older man, but also
          acts as a sink for many of Arnaud'sdeeper feelings. In
          doing so, she becomes less able to deal with her own
          world and problems and increasingly resorts to lies to
          try and evaluate the people nearest to her. Serrault, in
          contrast, portrays a man trying both to escape his past,
          and build his future. His relationship with B*art cannot
          easily be described but in her it is as if he can become
          a father figure and protector/helper - seen clearly in
          one central scene, when his hand hovers hesitantly over
          her naked back as she is sleeping then lowers to stroke
          it gently.

                  Like so much of French cinema, this film is less
          about the action and more about the emotions and
          restraints imposed on these feelings. It is about
          repression and oppression and the effects these can
          have. More importantly, it focuses on Sautet's
          fascination with the imagery of the beautiful young
          woman and the older man. Coupled with B*art's and
          Serrault's fine performances this is an intelligent and
          absorbing look at French life. © Review by Neil Chue
          Hong.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          16. French Twist / Gazon maudit (1995) - Josiane
          Balasko.  S-VT  4512

                "Josiane Balasko, the writer-director, starts with
          a youngish couple, parents of two children, who live in
          southern France.  He is a real estate agent who does
          much of his selling to female clients - horizontally.
          She is a Spanish ex-dancer. Spanish because Balasko,
          thank heaven, wanted Victoria Abril (of Alm—dovar's
          films) in the role.

                  Hubby's philanderings are almost completely
          unkown to the wife ; still, after a quarrel, she is
          vulnerable to the advances of a husky female driver of a
          van who stops by.  Result: a threesome plus the
          children. Further result: the van driver agrees to leave
          only if Hub will make her pregnant. She leaves, turns
          out to be gravid, and is brought back. Result: a
          threesome with three children.  Hubby then meets a
          handsome male client, who eyes him. Result? Most of the
          time it's like watching a coming trapeze act: neat
          swings, releases, catches. What gives the film something
          more than its flying geometry is Victoria Abril. Energy,
          comedy, sex." Stanley Hoffmann, The New Republic,
          February 26, 1996.

                 Actress/Director Josiane Balasko's latest film
          'French Twist' [was] the second most popular film at the
          1995 French box office. Balasko, one of the most popular
          French film makers, has always been a comic actress and
          author. Through 'French Twist' she wanted to talk about
          lesbianism to a larger audience without hurting lesbian
          sensitivities and also to erase the guilt from
          lesbianism. Balasko blames poor promotion by the
          agencies for the absence of an international market for
          French cinema. She strongly denies any feminist leanings
          and believes that her films address everybody.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          17. Bye Bye  - Karim Dridi. S-VT 4067

                   In France, where tensions are fierce between
          native French and a huge influx of Arab immigrants, the
          port city of Marseilles, across the Mediterranean from
          North Africa, has the most troubled history of anti-Arab
          racism. There, Tunisian filmmaker Karim Dridi sets his
          second feature film, Bye Bye, a compelling look at Arabs
          struggling to raise their French-born children in a
          country that shuns them.

                  Sympathetic but tough-minded, and directed with
          great assurance by Dridi, Bye Bye, tells the story of
          two brothers, 25-year-old Isma‘l and 14- year-old
          Mouloud, who leave Paris to stay with their uncle and
          his family in a Marseilles ghetto.

                 On the surface a plea for racial tolerance, Bye
          Bye also works as a family tragedy, a lament for fading
          cultures and a parable about the price of leaving one's
          homeland and relocating to a country that stigmatizes
          and isolates its newcomers.

                Dridi, who also wrote Bye Bye, traces those themes
          through the actions of the two brothers. For
          conscientious Ismael, still tortured by the memory of
          his brother's death in a fire, Marseilles holds the
          promise of a new beginning. But after scoring a job as a
          dockworker and befriending Jacky, a French co-worker,
          his dreams splatter against the wall of racism
          --embodied by Jacky's Arab-hating brother.

                For Mouloud, a rap-loving punk with free-floating
          adolescent angst, Marseilles is just another place to
          raise hell -- this time free from his father's gaze.
          Ignoring his older brother's warnings,  Mouloud takes up
          with his drug-running cousin Rhida, starts living on the
          streets and brings chaos to his tradition-bound uncle
          and aunt.

                 Does he want to return to his homeland in Tunisia
          to be with his mother? Hell, no. France is his place of
          birth and his home, much as that fact plagues his
          father.

                 Dridi's direction is sharp -- he stages one
          remarkable scene in a drug dealer's apartment, shot in
          one long, uninterrupted take ? and he draws strong,
          passionate performances from his North African cast. Bye
          Bye is a strong, craftsmanlike and heart-rending film
          that serves as a window into a neglected,
          little-understood culture.  ©1999 San Francisco
          Chronicle

          --------------------------------------------------------

          18. Y aura-t-il de la neige ˆ No‘l?  Will it Snow for
          Christmas?  1996  Sandrine Veysset  - S-VT 4766 +
          personal copy

          Pour son premier long m*trage, Sandrine Veysset nous
          raconte l'histoire d'une femme, ou plut™t d'une m*re de
          7 enfants, qui vit et travaille dans une ferme du sud de
          la France. La situation familiale est difficile car le
          p*re de ces 7 b‰tards (comme on les nomme au village)
          n'est en r*alit* que l'amant - qui vit avec sa vraie
          famille ˆ Cavaillon. Exer*ant un diktat terrible, le
          p*re ne visite 'les autres' que pour v*rifier leur
          travail dans ses champs...

          Apportant un vent r*solument nouveau dans le cin*ma
          fran*ais, Y AURA-T-IL DE LA NEIGE A NOEL, quoique
          construit comme une fiction, ressemble plus ˆ un
          documentaire. Le combat quotidien de cette m*re pour
          *duquer ses enfants, garder la t*te froide face ˆ
          l'homme au camion rouge (le p*re redout*) tout en
          travaillant comme une forcen*e, est un exemple parmi des
          milliers de combats identiques - et tr*s actuels - men*s
          par des milliers d'autres femmes ˆ travers le monde. Ce
          film est avant tout un hommage ˆ la maman, un
          remerciement ˆ chacune d'entre elles pour la force de
          leur amour qui, ˆ lui-seul, nous pousse ˆ grandir. A
          grands coups de tendresse.

          Le film de Veysset n'est pas lent. Telles les saisons
          qui passent, il prend le temps d'*tre. Par une  mise en
          sc*ne tr*s r*aliste et tr*s sobre, Veysset r*ussit ˆ
          captiver son public en entra”nant litt*ralement chaque
          spectateur ˆ participer au labeur quotidien de cette
          femme et de ses enfants.  Ils ne sont pas seuls ˆ
          nettoyer les radis, ˆ trier les salades, ˆ planter les
          pommes de terre... Nous trimons avec eux. Mais c'est
          avec eux *galement que nous profitons du chaud soleil
          d'*t* ˆ la fin de la journ*e, que nous partageons la
          veill*e de No‘l avec ses petites surprises et que nous
          nous *merveillons devant les premiers flocons de
          neige... A travers tous ces petits morceaux de vie,
          l'*motion peu ˆ peu s'installe et devient reine. On ne
          l'a pas senti arriver, car Veysset a eu la noblesse de
          ne pas fabriquer les sempiternelles sc*nes artificielles
          qui nous auraient fait rire .. ou pleurer. Chaque *moi,
          chaque frisson *veill* chez le spectateur est totalement
          spontan* et personnel.

          Dominique Reymond qui joue le r™le de la maman est une
          actrice-perle. Etonnante de justesse, elle incarne
          sublimement cette femme ˆ la fois forte et fragile,
          soumise et r*volt*e, triste mais jamais m*chante. C'est
          une ‰me nue qu'elle offre ˆ la cam*ra. C'est pourquoi
          elle fait de cette ma”tresse-femme, qui tel le roseau de
          La Fontaine plie mais ne rompt point, un personnage
          bouleversant... Et pour l'aider ˆ porter ce film sur ses
          *paules, les 7 enfants font un boulot *patant... © Joy
          Craftlove

          A Film Review by Cissy Caffrey

          Summary: Ambiguous look at depressing-magical rural
          life.

                On the face of it, the life of The Mother and her
          children might seem tough but idyllic, working hard on a
          provincial farm, part  of a loving family, happy in
          their own solidarity and inventiveness. Even at the
          family's lowest ebb, when the  alternative of living in
          a cramped council flat is seriously mooted, The Mother
          can say, at least you live in the country. But WILL IT
          SNOW FOR CHRISTMAS is no unthinking pastoral of blazing
          sun, beautiful countryside, and hearty rustics. In a
          world where the never ending sun is a dangerous,
          oppressive glare, where the land is a bleak, uniform,
          thoroughly mastered mistress demanding constant
          attention, where the locals are mean-minded, avaricious
          bigots, this is pastoral as Bresson might have made it,
          beating down on its characters, loveless, thankless,
          relentless.

                The image of wholeness and harmony that opens the
          film, though hard, is deeply schismatic. As they are
          constantly reminded, the children are the illegitimate
          offspring of The Father who houses them in a seemingly
          pleasant farmhouse, with no sanitary or heating
          amenities, while he exploits them as cheap labour with
          his two older, 'legitimate' sons, living with his own
          family who are ashamed of the 'b-----ds'. Initially, he
          seems tough but fair, a loving father, but as the film
          wears on the extent of his cruelty becomes apparent,
          never melodramatised, rooted in the rural French values
          of land, greed, sexual desperation and exploitation.

                CHRISTMAS is rare in showing a world of work. When
          you think about it, it's strange how something so
          completely fundamental to our lives, our identities, our
          social, economic and political relations is so absent
          from our films. With the hardly typical exception of
          policemen, the world of work only acts as a handy
          character signifier, or, at most, a setting for plot.
          But it's never simply represented as itself.

                Here we get lingering sequences of pure work, and
          we see its truth, how, for most of us, its thoughtless
          repetition deadens us, mechanises us, makes us mere
          animals, brooding and resentful, ready to lash out at
          whoever we feel is to blame for it, leaving you so tired
          you can't even read at night.  The film is not entirely
          successful here - my dad came from blighted farming
          background, and his grim experiences don't really find
          any correspondances here. But work is an extraordinary
          revealer of character, and in a film full of quiet,
          insightful observations of The Mother, a woman of so
          much love she in danger of losing it, the most powerful
          is related to work after she's discovered The Father has
          made a pass at her daughter - she sits alone, bowed,
          under a purple twilight, beside a truck of randomly
          strewn fruit crates.

                 So the images of wholeness and authenticity we
          idealistically associate with the countryside are
          actually riven with schism. The film describes two
          worlds - that dominated by The Father, one of virtual
          slavery (the casting of Daniel Duval, director of LA
          DEROBADE, an exploitative study of female degradation,
          is surely no accident), grind, abuse, as inexorable as
          the seasons; and the indoor world of the family,
          privileged remarkably, considering things, still full of
          love and optimism.

                There are brief moments of epiphany throughout,
          when the relentless 'realistic' visual register is
          suspended by something more subjective, a space
          untouched by Father and work. This culminates in the
          magical Christmas climax, as we see, framed in the
          darkness, behind a small barred window, an ambiguous
          image of family: on the one level cramped, imprisoned,
          shrouded, isolated; on the other harmonious, loving, a
          source of light and communication, a world of dream and
          stories that contrasts with Father's exploitative world
          of mechanical human relations.

                 The exquisite Joycean epiphany of snow is
          similarly double-edged - is it dreamt or real?; either
          way, the problems aren't resolved - the children might
          be saved, but she is trapped behind the window, alone
          but secure. This lovely film, never as depressing as an
          outline of its story might suggest, full of an animating
          camerawork that belies its characters inability to move,
          is very similar to Lynne Ramsey's later RATCATCHER, but,
          while its stylistic tastefulness means it never risks
          Ramsey's glaring lapses, its reserve means it doesn't
          quite capture her haunting poetry either. © cissy
          caffrey  dublin, ireland  Date: 14 June 2000.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          19. Indochine (156 min.) 1992   R*gis Wargnier - S-VT
          2788

                    A lethargic opium dream of colonial Vietnam,
          "Indochine"  looks back on French imperialism with a
          dramatically deadening spiritual fatigue. But, unlike
          similarly sprawling British mea culpas, this movie makes
          no apologies for those who usurp a country's culture.
          The world-weary protagonists of this historical
          melodrama don't see themselves as oppressing the
          Indochinese, but as nurturing them on the cream of
          European civilization.

                  This presumptuous, if not altogether
          indefensible notion, is spelled out in the tight
          relationship between Eliane (Catherine Deneuve), a
          rubber-plantation owner, and Camille, her adopted
          Indochinese daughter. An Annam princess educated in
          French schools, Camille breaks the tie when she and her
          beloved mother become rivals for the love of a fickle
          young naval officer, Jean-Baptiste. Thinking she is
          doing what's best for her daughter, Eliane arranges to
          have Jean-Baptiste reassigned to the remote and scenic
          Tonkin Islands. But Eliane has underestimated Camille,
          who flees the comfort and privilege of Saigon to find
          the man she loves. During her hazardous journey, Camille
          discovers a new passion for her homeland and her people.
          And when finally reunited with Jean-Baptiste, she is
          well on her way to becoming a revolutionary.

                  Her transformation from Mademoiselle Butterfly
          to Communist leader becomes complete when she is torn
          from her lover and their infant son and thrown into
          prison for crimes against the state. The trouble is we
          never see the fragile teenager undergo this surprising
          metamorphosis. Director R*gis Wargnier seems far more
          interested in what the white folks are doing back on the
          plantation. As with other potentially enlivening events,
          we hear about it from the coolly aristocratic Eliane. A
          form of cinematic colonialism, "Indochine" commits
          dramatic suicide by Eurocentrism.

                  Clearly Wargnier, who also co-wrote the script,
          has a fondness for extended metaphors, preferring
          intellectual artifice over character development. None
          of his characters is particularly complex or consistent,
          but Jean-Baptiste is virtually put out to stud as a
          sexual cynic turned romance-novel-cover boy overnight.
          Perhaps it was the MSG that tenderized this beefcake.
          Deneuve's Eliane is more interesting, but she is, after
          all, playing France.

                  Wargnier, who learned his craft at the elbow of
          Claude Chabrol, does expose the geographic splendors of
          Southeast Asia as well as the common sense of its
          people, whose sly observations lend "Indochine" both
          energy and levity.  Madame Tam (Thi Hoe Tranh Huu
          Trieu), a business woman whose son is engaged to
          Camille, speaks for all of us when she hears of the
          girl's interest in her mother's paramour. "I'll never
          understand French people's love stories, they're nothing
          but folly and suffering." Our b*ret's off to Madame
          Tam.  © By Rita Kempley  Washington Post.

          En fran*ais

                   Parce que le film de R*gis Wargnier raconte une
          belle histoire dramatique, parce que les prises de vue
          sont superbes, on peut avoir la tentation de ne voir en
          lui qu’un film-d*cor ou un roman photo mettant en sc*me
          les amours de trois personnages: Eliane, la riche
          propri*taire terrienne fran*aise (Catherine Deneuve),
          Jean-Baptiste, l'officier de marine et Camille, la jeune
          princesse annamite. Pourtant,comme le titre l'indique
          sans ambigu•t*, c'est bien l'Indochine qui est le sujet
          central du film, c'est-ˆ-dire le Vietnam sous domination
          fran*aise puisque le colonisateur se refusait ˆ d*signer
          autrement que par un terme g*ographique ce pays.

                   Ce film historique a une double ambition: celle
          de donner ˆ comprendre ˆ un public fran*ais ˆ la fois ce
          qu’ a *t* la colonisation fran*aise en Indochine et
          comment celle-ci s'est achev*e. D'o* le choix des ann*es
          1930 qui sont en effet les ann*es charni*res avec la
          crise *conomique et la mont*e du mouvement national qui
          se confond alors avec le mouvement communiste.  Fort
          justement, le film s'arr*te au lendemain du Front
          Populaire m*me si l'*pilogue *voque les accords de
          Gen*ve de 1954, car c'est bien dans les ann*es 1930 que
          tout se noue.

                 C'est aussi un film qui se devait de sacrifier ˆ
          certaines lois du genre romanesque qu'il est non
          seulement vain de lui reprocher mais qu'il faut se
          f*liciter de le voir utiliser comme autant de signes de
          reconnaissance pour un large public. Dans le m*me ordre
          d'id*es, les gros plans qui se d*tachent sur un fond
          flou n'ont aucunement pour fonction de minorer le
          contexte social car les personnages sont autant de
          personnages embl*matiques de la soci*t* coloniale
          fran*aise comme de la soci*t* vietnamienne colonis*e.
          C'est sur ce point particulier que nous voudrions faire
          porter notre propos.

                  La personnalisation des rapports ethniques et
          sociaux est en effet la meilleure fa*on pour un cin*aste
          de traduire des situations historiques complexes.  C'est
          ce que fait avec un rare bonheur R*gis Wargnier ˆ
          travers les personnages d'Eliane, du chef de la s*ret*,
          de Jean-Baptiste et de Camille.

               Eliane, la riche propri*taire fran*aise ˆ la t*te
          d'une plantation d'h*v*as repr*sente la colonisation
          *conomique fran*aise au Vietnam jusque dans la
          diversit*  des attitudes ˆ l'*gard des autochtones. Dure
          avec ses ouvriers ˆ qui elle fait donner le fouet,
          paternaliste avec ses domestiques, elle traite comme sa
          fille la jeune princesse annamite orpheline tout en lui
          d*niant le droit ˆ l'*mancipation. Ainsi la France
          capitaliste, r*publicaine et humaniste, a-t-elle domin*
          le peuple vietnamien, faisant ployer les petits et
          s'effor*ant d'attirer ˆ elle les *lites. Le choix de
          Catherine Deneuve est d'autant plus pertinent que, comme
          on le sait, cette actrice a servi de mod*le pour un des
          derniers bustes officiels de Marianne, symbole de la
          R*publique fran*aise.

                 Voici ensuite le chef de la s*ret*, d*sabus*,
          cynique mais v*ritable patron de la colonie.  Expert en
          surveillance et en r*pression "adapt*e": il n'en fait
          pas trop mais sait *tre impitoyable. On sait quel r™le
          la s*ret* a jou* en Indochine durant la premi*re moiti*
          du si*cle, succ*dant aux amiraux conqu*rants de la
          deuxi*me moiti*  du XIXe si*cle et pr*c*dant l'arm*e de
          terre (1945-1954) qui tentera en vain de s'opposer ˆ
          l'ind*pendance.

                 Le troisi*me personnage est l'officier de marine
          Jean-Baptiste, qui jouit d'un grand prestige ˆ la fois
          aupr*s de la soci*t* coloniale et de la soci*t*
          vietnamienne. Choix judicieux s'il en est lorsqu'on sait
          le r™le qu’ ont jou* dans l'histoire de la colonie
          fran*aise les officiers de marine.

                 Aupr*s de la belle propri*taire fran*aise, le
          marin l'emporte facilement sur le chef de la s*ret*,
          mais il fascine aussi la jeune princesse annamite. Il
          s'agit en fait d'une fascination mutuelle tant il est
          vrai que la civilisation vietnamienne a toujours exerc*
          un fort attrait sur les colonisateurs fran*ais et
          surtout les militaires. Cet attrait en l'occurence se
          traduit par la d*sertion du jeune officier et par son
          passage du c™t* des colonis*s, comme la guerre de
          1946-1954 en fournira quelques exemples.

                Enfin, la jeune Camille est un personnage plus
          complexe qu'il n'y para”t.  D'abord fille adoptive
          aimante d'Eliane, elle se d*tache peu ˆ  peu d'elle.
          Attir*e par le jeune officier de marine, elle est pr*te
          ˆ  tout pour le rejoindre.  Veut-on par lˆ sugg*rer
          qu'une domination de la marine e*t *t* accept*e par les
          *lites autochtones ou tout simplement que, comme dans le
          Maroc plus tard avec Lyautey, l'arm*e de m*tier fut plus
          respectueuse des civilisations locales que
          l'administration civile? Pourtant, ces rejetons des
          classes dirigeantes, au contact de la mis*re populaire,
          rompent peu ˆ peu avec la France et adh*rent au
          communisme.

                  Le long voyage de Camille ˆ travers l'Indochine
          est certainement un des moments clefs du film:  partie
          ˆ  la recherche du jeune officier de marine, elle
          d*couvre un peuple souffrant et fier qui a d*jˆorganis*
          la r*sistance.  Il est significatif que Camille ne
          veuille pas, apr*s la mort de celui-ci, reconna”tre
          l'enfant n* de son union avec l'officier fran*ais car d*
          sormais le compromis est impossible.  Son fils sera
          *lev* en France et dira plus tard ˆ  Eliane: "Ma m*re,
          c'est toi". Ainsi le moteur de l'action est-il ce peuple
          indochinois dont les souffrances provoquent la prise de
          conscience de ces jeunes notables qui se mettent plus ˆ
          son service qu'ˆ sa t*te, tel au Laos, ˆ la m*me *poque,
          le jeune prince Souphanouvong.

                 De nombreux autres *l*ments ajoutent ˆ  la
          cr*dibilit* historique du film: la somptuosit* des
          paysages montagneux et maritimes, la minutie de la
          reconstitution des int*rieurs et des sc*nes de la vie
          quotidienne.  Les d*lices de la vie coloniale sont
          montr*s sans complaisance mais sans exc*s comme sont
          montr*s le travail sur les plantations d'h*v*as, les
          m*thodes de recrutement des coolies, les attentats
          urbains des r*volutionnaires, les r*voltes paysannes de
          1930-1931 dans le Nghe-An, le bagne de Poulo Condore
          dont le gouvernement du Front Populaire fera ouvrir les
          portes.

                   Pour le cin*aste comme pour l'historien, il
          s'agit bien, avec des moyens diff*rents sinon de
          reconstituer la soci*t* du pass*, du moins d'en tracer
          les lignes de force et c'est ce qu'a su admirablement
          faire R*gis Wargnier dans ce minutieux et nostalgique
          Novecento indochinois.  © Jean SAGNES
          --------------------------------------------------------

          20. The Widow of Saint-Pierre - La Veuve de
          Saint-Pierre.  Dir. Patrice Leconte. DVD 0143  +
          Personal copy

          This somber film is a meditation on the mystery of human
          nature, asking how people can commit horrible deeds -
          and wonderful acts of kindness. Patrice Leconte, the
          director of Ridicule, reveals once again his talent for
          creating the mood of a particular time and place. The
          date is 1849, and the setting the  islands of
          Saint-Pierre and Miquelon. Images of fog, waves, and
          snow emphasize the harshness of the climate and the
          isolation of the inhabitants. After fatally stabbing an
          old man,Neel Auguste, a fisherman, is sentenced to
          death. But the execution must be delayed until a
          guillotine (the veuve of the title) can be obtained, as
          mandated by the Second Republic. In the meantime, the
          wife of the captain of the garrison, known as Madame La
          (as in la Capitaine), played by Juliette Binoche, has
          made it her mission to improve the prisoner's situation.
          As the veuve makes its fateful journey, Neel wins the
          affection and loyalty of the people of the island.

          Madame La first approaches the prisoner with her husband
          to ask whether he would be willing to help her grow
          plants in the courtyard. Their efforts to sustain
          flowering plants in this harsh climate acquire immediate
          metaphorical significance. A believer in redemption,
          Madame La tells her husband, "Les hommes peuvent *tre
          mauvais un jour et bons le lendemain [ ... ils changent,
          de *a je suis s*re." As she and Neel grow closer, there
          is only the most subtle expression of sexual interest,
          when he touches her finger with his as they trace words
          on the page. But for Madame La, the prisoner is like a
          child whom she wants to educate and protect. Indeed, her
          troubled reaction upon being asked whether she has
          children implies that she and her husband have been
          unable to conceive.

          This is certainly not for lack of passion, for Madame La
          is very much in love with her spouse, played by Daniel
          Auteuil. The captain's quiet intensity and cold defiance
          may inspire fear, but he is the picture of gentle
          devotion to his wife. His support of her charitable
          undertaking attracts criticism from the governor, and
          the risks to his career loom large. From its opening
          moments, the film flirts with the double meaning of the
          word veuve: we first see Madame La wearing black at the
          far end of a room, as the camera slowly approaches her.

          Leconte frequently uses the camera to represent point of
          view. As  the prisoners ride in a cart, the camera
          shakes with the motion of the vehicle, following the
          hostile faces of onlookers. Upon being led to his cell,
          Neel sees Madame La tending to her garden; we follow his
          gaze from her face to the small plant in her hand and
          back to her face again. The camera has an unflinching
          persistence that lets images speak for themselves,
          without idealizing them. An early scene shows the hands
          of fishermen gutting fish. Later we see Neel's hands
          gesturing despondently through the bars of his tiny
          window. Frequent close-ups force the viewer to see each
          character straight on.  This technique becomes almost a
          moral imperative when Madame La dramatically points to
          her prot*g*'s throat and demands that his humanity be
          acknowledged. Emir Kusturica,the actor who plays Neel,
          manages to display dignity, resignation, and tenderness,
          without ever exaggerating or sentimentalizing his
          character.

          In the classroom, this movie could inspire debate over
          the death penalty and the power of the state. If
          students are instructed to pay attention to the use of
          "tu" and "vous", they may  notice that the captain uses
          "tu" with Neel, while Madame La shows him respect by
          addressing him as "vous". This film is likely to inspire
          strong reactions in students and will not leave any
          viewer indifferent.
          --------------------------------------------------------

          21. L'auberge espagnole  (2002)   Dir. C*dric Klapish

          L'id*e de L'Auberge espagnole est venue ˆ Klapisch des
          souvenirs du s*jour ˆ Barcelone qu'avait effectu* sa
          soeur il y a dix ans. R*alis* dans l'urgence, le film
          n'est autre qu'un projet imagin* presque par accident
          lors d'une interruption sur la pr*paration de Ni pour,
          ni contre (bien au contraire).. Le casting de la com*die
          coll*giale a permis ˆ Klapisch de visiter plusieurs
          capitales europ*ennes ˆ la recherche des *tudiants
          Erasmus destin*s ˆ peupler l'auberge, et par lˆ m*me de
          confirmer plusieurs clich*s r*pandus sur les diverses
          nationalit*s: "Lors du casting au Danemark, tous les
          acteurs sont arriv*s avec un quart d'heure d'avance; en
          Italie, tous le monde est arriv* une heure en retard!".

          Quelques hyperliens:
          http://www.marsfilms.com/auberge
          http://www.ecrannoir.fr/real/france/klapisch.htm

          Xavier, un *tudiant parisien de 25 ans, se fait offrir
          par un ami de son p*re un emploi au minist*re des
          finances. Mais le poste requ*rant une bonne connaissance
          de l'espagnol, le jeune homme accepte de s*journer un an
          ˆ Barcelone. Ë son arriv*e, il est h*berg*
          temporairement par le neurologue fran*ais Jean-Michel et
          son *pouse, la r*serv*e Anne-Sophie. Puis Xavier
          s'installe dans un appartement avec cinq autres
          *tudiants, l'Anglaise Wendy, l'Italien Alessandro,
          l'Allemand Barnabi, le Danois Lars et sa copine
          andalouse Soledad. Peu apr*s, Isabelle, une Wallonne
          lesbienne, devient la septi*me colocataire. Gr‰ce ˆ ses
          conseils, Xavier parvient ˆ s*duire Anne-Sophie, peu de
          temps avant que Martine, la petite amie de l'*tudiant
          rest*e ˆ Paris, d*cide de rompre avec lui.

          Xavier (Romain Duris), a bland aspiring writer in his
          early twenties, opts to study in Barcelona for a year,
          leaving behind snotty girlfriend Martine (Audrey Tautou)
          and landing in a ramshackle flat populated by Italian,
          Danish, English, German, Spanish, and Belgian residents.
          Tautou's presence underlines Klapisch's lunges at
          Jeunet-brand whimsyÑsped-up sequences, multiple
          exposures, animated maps, talking photographsÑwhile the
          bloated narrative suffers most from Klapisch's overly
          democratic approach to his collegiate European Union.
          He's less evenhanded in parceling out stereotypes. We've
          got the lager-lout Brit and the rigid German, as well as
          the repressed married woman, Anne-Sophie (Judith
          Godr*che), who just needs one good ****Ñfrom boring
          Xavier, natch. There's a moral to all this, of course:
          Follow That Dream! If you need a dose of post-adolescent
          bombast, go with whatever Real World descendant is
          readily available: more skin, no message.
          <http://www.villagevoice.com/issues/0320/winter.php>

          Ou si vous pr*f*rez une critique plus positive...

          "L'Auberge Espagnole" presents an appealing and
          persuasive picture of European integration, in which
          national differences, which once sparked military and
          political conflict, are preserved because they make life
          sexier and more interesting. The ending, though, feels
          like a bit of a cop-out, as Mr. Klapisch decides that
          Xavier's pleasant year abroad must yield a lesson. The
          ending suggests that the bureaucratic routines of
          Xavier's job with the European Union are antithetical to
          the freedom and chaos he savored in Barcelona. They are,
          but only superficially, since they are aspects of the
          same phenomenon: the transformation of Europe from a
          battleground to a consumerist, hedonist playground.

          Americans, on the other hand, are not so fortunate as to
          be completely overlooked. The token Yankee is a
          guitar-slinging cowboy boytoy from Santa Fe, who is
          (justifiably) referred to as 'stupid American' at least
          once and whose few lines consist primarily of howling
          like a dog. His appearance is brief, though, not long
          enough to really bother me very much.

          However, it wouldn't have bothered me at all had the
          film not gone out of its way to dismantle this sorts of
          stereotype as it is applied to Europeans. This occurs
          when a younger brother visits the crew and quickly
          alienates himself from everyone with his insensitive
          cariacatures of various European nationalities (the anal
          German, the messy Italian, the mumbling Frenchman). The
          filmmakers clearly want the audience to be irritated
          because in the backlash against these ridiculous
          stereotypes, they will be better able to recognize their
          own European-ness.

          American stereotypes, however, are apparently still fair
          game, and it just feels like a cheap shot. Because of
          this, and contrary to some claims, I would argue that
          this film is not about promoting cross-border
          understanding generally; rather, it's exclusively about
          forging a European identity (and a Western European one,
          at that).

          The other thing which annoyed me was the stereotyping -
          Anne-Sophie is portrayed as a stuck-up French bitch and
          Wendy as a typically sex-mad unfaithful English girl.
          The German is portrayed as "typically" having no humour
          when the English Girl's brother makes jokes to him about
          the Germans. This sort of stereotyping is all well and
          good but it could be done more intelligently. Also,
          certain others of the characters we learn little about -
          the Italian, the Dane. I thought the Belgian lesbian had
          her character developed a little more. The central
          character the Frenchman had, I thought a very weak and
          diluted character and seemed just unable to take it all
          in ( too much pot, I suppose ). Audrey Tautou's tantrums
          were unnecessary and she was nowhere near as interesting
          as in "Am*lie Poulain". All in all, a bit of a washout

          Although there are quite a few familiar situations, they
          are irritatingly clich* and do not go beyond the trivial
          events. This made the movie uninteresting to watch, and
          gave me a strong
          "been-there-done-that-don't-you-have-anything-to-add?"
          feeling. Apart from that, the movie lacks a firm
          It sometimes looks more like a documentary or
          'real-life' show than a seriously made movie.

          Indeed the most interesting part is the everyday life in
          the Auberge Espagnole (Potluck Party Year could be an
          informal translation). Not the life of Xavier at large.
          Xavier is like Tintin or Am*lie: you follow him without
          questions but you never identify with him. But Klapisch
          is not Herg* or Jeunet as his vision get mixed up in a
          short-sighted reality.

          What eventually makes it a nice little movie is: 1/ the
          pace (no time to get bored as in more self-concerned
          movies) 2/ the focus of various issues catering for
          young Europeans, 20 to 28 year-old (sex and love and
          life at large in a Friends-like happy-go-lucky
          atmosphere)  What makes it only a little movie is the
          lack of strength in Xavier's characterization out of
          L'auberge Espagnole. Prolog and epilogue, before and
          after Barcelona sequences are wooden; like some
          long-time student work. As for me the whole movie should
          have taken place in Barcelona.

          The movie is filled with colourful people, all of them
          stereotypes (the British twat and her racist brother,
          the sexually liberated Dane, the ultra-organised
          German,...). In this case though, the stereotypes are
          brilliantly done. You feel like you know people like
          that (I for one know an arrogant doctor and his trophy
          wife, and they're just like the characters in the
          film!), they feel like REAL PEOPLE!

          For an American audience, the only disheartening aspect
          is that in this lovefest the odd man out may very well
          be . . . us. "L'Auberge Espagnole" has only one American
          character, and he's a complete imbecile, going around
          with an acoustic guitar. Needless to say, only the
          English girl will have anything to do with him, and even
          she knows he's an idiot. . This film contains strong
          language. © by Cynthia Fuchs - PopMatters Film and TV
          Editor .
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Film 1: Ponette

Essayez de répondre, en français quand vous le pouvez, en anglais quand vous ne savez pas comment dire, aux questions suivantes:

1. Ponette est un film qui ose confronter les enfants au mystère insoutenable de la mort. Vous souvenez-vous de la réponse de Ponette à son père qui l'admoneste en ces termes: "Ta mère est morte. Tu sais ce que ça veut dire?

Oui, _____________________________________________________________________________

2. Il est beaucoup question de Dieu et de religion dans ce film. Vous souvenez-vous, par exemple, de ce que lui dit son père, un agnostique, à propos de Dieu et des morts?

______________________________________________________________________________________________

3. Damian Cannon note avec justesse dans sa critique que parmi les images les plus révélatrices (prises par la cinématographe Caroline Champetier), il y a celle de Ponette, seule, au crépuscule, debout au milieu du paysage, attendant le retour de sa mère. Vous souvenez-vous de comment se termine cette scène? Expliquez en anglais.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

4. Parmi les épreuves que Ponette doit traverser pour devenir "enfant de Dieu", il y a celle de son "emprisonnement" dans la poubelle (the 5-minute stay in the dumpster). Qu'est-ce cet emprisonnement symbolise pour vous?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

5 - 7. Deux termes opposés, cruauté d'un côté, tendresse de l'autre, résument l'attitude des enfants envers Ponette. Pouvez-vous citer un exemple de chaque, soit en paroles soit en actions.

a) Tendresse : ________________________________________________________________

b) Cruauté:    ________________________________________________________________

8. Quel conseil lui donne sa maman? Autrement dit, qu'est-ce qu'elle lui demande d'essayer?

_________________________________________________________________________________________

9. Quel peut-être le symbole du pullover rouge que lui donne sa maman ?

__________________________________________________________________________________________

10. La plupart des critiques américains condamnent la façon dont Doillon, en fin de film, a "ressuscité" temporairement la maman de Ponette. Exemple: "the moment destroys the emotional intensity and honesty Doillon has worked so hard to sustain in the film1s first 80 minutes" Chicago Reader. Pour Damian Cannon, au contraire, étant donné le contexte du déséquilibre émotif de Ponette, cette fin incroyable "strikes the right cord," sonne juste, dirions-nous en français.  Quel est votre avis? Est-ce un artifice trop facile de cinéma ou est-ce l'aboutissement convaincant d'une imagination d'enfant?

_____________________________________________________________________________
 


Film 2: Mondo

Questions sur Mondo

1. Quel est le nom de l’auteur français, très populaire en France, dont la nouvelle a servi à Toni Gatlif pour réaliser son film?
 

2. La question semble trop facile: Pourquoi avoir donné à ce petit garçon le nom de Mondo?
 

3. Tony Gatlif a réalisé ce film  en partie pour réagir à la misère de trois peuples d’Europe ou du Moyen Orient encore apatrides (i.e. sans patrie) au XXIème siècle.  Quels sont ces trois peuples?
 
 

4. Autant que vous puissiez l’exprimer en français, quel parallèle le réalisateur a-t-il voulu montrer entre Mondo et les ramasseurs de chiens perdus?
 

5. Quel est le symbole de Mondo devenant l’ami de Thi-Chin, une Juive née au Viet-Nam?
 

6. Quel peut-être le symbole de Mondo écoutant les cantiques chantés dans une église remplie de gens?
 

7. La langue chantée n’était pas du français. Pouvez-vous deviner dans quelle langue chante cette communauté religieuse?
 

8. Vous l’aurez remarqué, la langue maternelle de Mondo n’est pas le français. En particulier il fait des fautes de genre (confondant le masculin et le féminin).  Avez-vous remarqué l’une de ses fautes de genre les plus visibles?
 

9. Je vous l’aurai dit en classe, ou bien vous l’aurez lu dans l’une des critiques, qu’est-ce qui est arrivé à Mondo, à sa mère et à sa grand-mère après que le film a été tourné?
 

10. En anglais si vous préférez: pour quelles raisons recommanderiez-vous ce film à un(e) ami(e)?
 


Film  3:  Au revoir les enfants
 

1. Qu’est-ce qui fait comprendre à Julien que Jean est juif?
 

2. Quelles explications François donnent-ils  à son jeune frère sur les Juifs?
 

3. Pour quelles deux raisons Joseph est-il renvoyé?
 

4. Comment Joseph se venge-t-il? En dénonçant qui?
 

5. Comment les Allemands découvrent-ils Jean dans la classe?
 

6. Comment les Allemands découvrent-ils Négus caché dans un lit à l’infirmerie?
 
 

7. Quelle est pour vous la partie la plus touchante du film?
 
 

8-10. Dans ce film, les Français ne sont pas tous bons et les Allemands ne sont pas tous méchants (evil).  Pouvez-vous donner un exemple de chaque? et même un exemple d’humour de la part d’un soldat allemand

méchanceté:
 

bonté
 
 

humour



FILM 4 :  Romuald et Juliette  (Mama, There is a man in your bed)

1.  Le titre du film s'inspire évidemment de la tragédie de Shakespeare, mais pourquoi ce film est-il une comédie et non une tragédie?

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

2.  Cette comédie n'est pas très morale: Monsieur Blindet trompe sa femme avec qui?

________________________________________________________________________

3.  De son côté, la femme de Monsieur Blindet trompe son mari avec qui?

_______________________________________________________________________

4. En réalité, quelle est la seule chose qui domine pour l'instant dans la vie de Mr. Blindet?

__________________________________________________________________________________
 

5.  Pourquoi la réalisatrice, Coline Serreau,  a-t-elle choisi pour Romuald ce nom de "Blindet"?

________________________________________________________________________________

6-7.  Bien que Juliette ait déjà dit à M. Blindet que sa femme le trompait, quelle est l'évidence, i.e. la preuve concrète - et "en couleurs" - qui prouve que Juliette avait raison?

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

8.  Nous voyons Juliette et Romuald au lit discuter de leurs projets d'après mariage. Avez-vous remarqué s'ils utilisaient entre eux le "tu" ou le "vous"?

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

9.  La distinction précédente ("tu" ou "vous") est très importante. [Expliquez en anglais si vous préférez] Qu'est-ce que cela signifie selon vous? Est-ce un mariage auquel on croit ou on ne croit pas?

_________________________________________________________________________________________________


FILM 5:  Tatie Danielle

1-3.  For French audiences = pour un auditoire français, nous rapporte Ginette Vincendeau dans sa critique, Tatie Danielle fait mouche sur un certain nombre de points qui ne font guère honneur aux Français. Pouvez-vous (en anglais) énumérer au moins trois de ces points?

a) _______________________________________________________________________

b) _______________________________________________________________________

c)  ___________________________________________________________________________________

4-5.  La critique de Chatiliez semble s'étendre à tous ses personnages, excepté, peut-être, à une catégorie de personnes qui est considérée de façon positive. Quelle est cette catégorie? Représentée par quel personnage dans le film?

_______________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

6-8.  Cette critique de Chatiliez est souvent sociologique et très précise. Elle s'attaque en particulier aux goûts petits-bourgeois de la famille Billard. Quels trois domaines particuliers sont visés?

a) ________________________________________________________________________

b) ________________________________________________________________________

c) ________________________________________________________________________
 

9-10. Quel est le titre de la chanson que nous entendons au début du film? Selon Vincendeau, qu'est-ce que les mots de cette chanson pourraient révéler de la façon odieuse dont se comporte Tatie Danielle?

___________________________________________________________________

___________________________________________________________________
 



 

FILM 6:  La fille sur le pont

En guise de mid-term, votre travail consistera à traduire en anglais aussi idiomatiquement que possible ? chacun pour soi, il va de soi -  l’histoire de La fille sur le pont et à me la remettre obligatoirement sous forme tapuscrite (et non manuscrite).

"Vous avez l'air d'une fille qui va faire une connerie." Un pont de Paris, la nuit, une fille aux yeux embués, penchée au-dessus des eaux glacées de la Seine avec une grosse envie d'y noyer ses tristesses. Et puis, derrière, un type surgit de nulle part, inattendu, intéressé. Il s'appelle Gabor, il est lanceur de couteaux, il a besoin d'une cible. Elle s'appelle Adèle, elle n'a jamais eu de chance, elle n'a plus envie d'insister ; et c'est vrai qu'à tout prendre, quitte à mourir, autant se rendre utile.

Il y a comme ça des modèles qui inspirent les artistes ; il y a des chances qui vous tombent dessus sans prévenir, au détour d'un pont, quand deux destins fêlés se rencontrent, que côte à côte ils deviennent les deux morceaux d'un numéro gagnant, une sorte de trèfle à quatre feuilles recollé. Et brusquement la vie se met à leur sourire. Les couteaux peuvent pleuvoir, les billes tourner sur les roulettes des casinos, ils peuvent traverser des mers ou des pays, marcher en équilibre au bord du vide, jouer leurs vies à pile ou face, tant qu'ils seront ensemble la chance les tiendra tous les deux par la main.

Mais la chance c'est fragile, c'est susceptible, ça vous quitte pour un rien. Il suffit de la contrarier, qu'Adèle et Gabor se tournent le dos, fassent un pas l'un sans l'autre, et la chance, ils peuvent faire une croix dessus. D'ailleurs il n'est pas impossible qu'un soir, sur un pont d'Istambul, vous croisiez un lanceur de couteaux qui ait envie de se foutre à l'eau. Et puis derrière, peut-être, avec un peu de chance, une fille viendra vers lui, une fille revenue de loin, et qui s'appelle Adèle et qui a besoin de lui : "Vous avez l'air d'un type qui va faire une connerie".


FILM 7:  Le placard (The Closet)

 1. Quel est le sens des premières images du Placard, celle de la photo d’entreprise?
 

2. Comparez cette scène avec la toute dernière, celle de l’autre photo d’entreprise.  Que voit-on sur cette dernière?
 

3. Quel personnage dit: "On m'a licencié il y a vingt ans pour les mêmes raisons qui font qu'on vous garde aujourd'hui" ?
4. Et pour quelle raison a-t-il précisément été licencié?
 

5. Quelle est la profession de Pignon?
 

6. Vous souvenez de celle de son ex-femme?  Est-ce que c’est une profession qui paie bien?
 

7. Parmi les  stéréotypes (lourds) qui abondent dans ce film,  l’un concerne ceux qu’incarne Depardieu (dans le rôle de Santini). Quels stéréotypes précisément?
 
 

8. Parmi ces stéréotypes, un autre, présent ces derniers temps dans la presse bostonienne,  est faussement attribué à Pignon. Quel est cet autre stéréotype?
 
 

9. Malgré l’admiration que Frank semble porter à son père faussement homosexuel, qu’est-ce que celui-ci est bien content d’apprendre en ce qui concerne la sexualité de son fils?
 
 

10. Bien que l’idée générale du Placard soit sur la façon dont la vie d’un homme change une fois que les gens se font de lui une idée différente, quelle est en un mot la leçon de ce film?
 



 

FILM 8:  Marius et Jeannette
 

1-2. Je vous l’aurai dit en cours. Pourquoi, en toute probabilité, Robert Guédiguian a-t-il choisi le prénom de Marius?  Quel est en particulier le nom de l’auteur de L’eau des collines dont sont tirés les films Jean de Florette  et Manon des sources ?
a)
b)

3. Typique de de nombreux films français souvent riches en allusions littéraires, à quoi Jeannette fait-elle référence dans la remarque suivante: “Je suis pas la fille de Jean Valjean, moi.”
 

4. Cette histoire est également un conte, un conte de la vie quotidienne. Fidèle  à ce modèle, comment le film doit-il finir?  Par exemple, quelle sera la profession de Malek et quelle sera la profession de Magali?
a)
b)

5-6. Pour Guédiguian, le globe terrestre que nous voyons flotter en tout début de film peut vouloir dire trois choses.  Lesquelles?
a)
b)
c)

7. Ce film utilise également nombre de stéréotypes: par exemple, pourquoi la référence aux Arabes dans l’exclamation de Jeannette?“T'i'es un ouvrier comme moi, non ! Qu'est ce t'i'en as à foutre de cette peinture, merde! Heureusement que je suis pas arabe, sinon tu m'aurais tiré dessus.”
 

8. Autre stéréotype: Caroline est censée être communiste. Donc, quel journal lit-elle? Son ancient amant, ancien instituteur d’école, lit forcément quel journal?
 

8. A quelle importante période de l’histoire française Caroline fait-elle allusion quand elle parle de ses “aventures” passées? (Je vous l’aurai dit en cours, pour décrire la même réalité, “an affair” devient “une aventure” en français.)
 

9-10. Ce film est en même temps (voir notes) une leçon de choses sur la vie. Quelles sont en trois mots, trois des “leçons de choses” que vous avez retenues de ce film?
a)
b)
c)


FILM 9:  Western
 

1. De nouveau, je vous l’aurai dit en classe ou vous l’aurez lu dans vos notes, Manuel Poirier n’est pas français d’origine. De quel pays est-il originaire?
 

2. Poirier “trahit” son origine non seulement par le choix de son sujet, mais aussi d’une autre manière. Quelle est cette autre manière?
 

3. Qu’est-ce que vous avez également noté d’inhabituel, tout à la fin du film, lors du déroulement des noms du générique?
 

4. En Angleterre, cette “fin des terres” s’appelle “Land’s end”.  C’est aussi un département français bien-nommé dans lequel Manuel Poirier a tourné son film.  Quel est le nom de ce département?
 

5. Les 99 départements qui constituent la France sont numérotés alphabétiquement; exemple: 01 pour le département de l’Ain, 75 pour le département de la Seine (Paris).  Avez-vous remarqué sur la plaque d’immatriculation des voitures quel était le chiffre qui correspond au département où a lieu l’action du film?
 
 

6. La France est également divisée en 22 régions, correspondant plus ou moins aux anciennes provinces d’avant la Révolution [1789]. Dans quelle province sommes-nous?  Quel dialecte [qui n’est pas du français] entend-on parler parfois dans les cafés?
 

7-10. Traduisez en anglais l’argument irréfutable de Paco:

“Il y a forcément une femme pour toi... Une femme amoureuse de toi, mais qui ne le sait pas encore. Je suis sûr que dans chaque ville de France il y a une femme qui tomberait amoureuse de toi en te connaissant. Quand je dis une femme c'est au minimum, alors quand tu comptes le nombre de villes qu'il y a en France, ça fait un potentiel énorme!


FILM 10:  La Promesse
 

1. Quel autre titre pouvez-vous donner (en français) à La Promesse?
 

2. En fait, quelle promesse Igor fait-il à Amidou?
 
 

3. Avant de venir en Belgique, dans quelle ville d’Italie, connue pour ses fameuses carrières de marbre, Amidou a-t-il travaillé?
 
 

4. Amidou a été victime d’un accident de travail dans cette carrière, quelle sorte d’accident?
 
 

5. Avant de le rejoindre, dans quel pays d’Afrique Assita, sa femme,  vivait-elle?
 

6. Comment, au moyen de quels deux stéréotypes, qu’il imite de son père, les réalisateurs nous montrent-ils qu’Igor n’est encore qu’un jeune adolescent qui essaie d’agir comme un homme?
 
 

7-8. Tout au cours du film nous voyons en parallèle la passion du jeune Igor pour son go-kart. Vers la fin, dans une scène capitale qui symbolise son passage de l’adolescence à l’âge adulte, nous le voyons renoncer à son go-kart.  Quelle est cette scène et où a-t-elle lieu?
 
 

9-10. A la différence des films hollywoodiens, la conclusion sans résolution finale vous aura peut-être surpris. Comment peut-on cependant l'expliquer?  (Expliquez en anglais)


FILM 11: Questions sur Cyrano de Bergerac

Complétez:

1. Cyrano est affligé d'une infirmité incurable qui le rend très susceptible auprès des _____________ et très timide auprès des __________________.

Personne en sa présence ne peut mentionner le mot "__________".

Questions sur le Cyrano historique:

2. A l'époque de quel roi a vécu le réel Cyrano de Bergerac?  C'est-à-dire durant quel siècle?

____________________________________________________________

3. Quelle était sa double profession?

_____________________________________________________________

4. Qui (Quel auteur) a vraiment transformé Cyrano en héros de légende?

_____________________________________________________________

5.  Sous quelle forme? Et à quelle époque?

______________________________________________________________
 

Sur le Cyrano du héros de légende:

6. Dans la description de Roxane, il y a un mot [un adjectif] de Cyrano dont elle se sert mais qui choque Cyrano parce que ce mot révèle que ce n'est pas lui qu'elle aime. Quel est ce mot?

___________________________________________________________________________

7. Pourquoi Cyrano est-il si triste quand Roxane lui dit: "Je vous aime bien" ("I like you)?  Et quelle est sa réaction quand Roxane essaie de lui caresser le visage?

__________________________________________________________________________________

8. Expliquez (en anglais) la citation de Cyrano à Christian: "Je serai ton esprit ; tu seras ma beauté."

__________________________________________________________________________________

9. Dans la dernière scène, au couvent, Cyrano demande à Roxane de voir la dernière lettre de Christian. Il fait nuit. De quoi Roxane cependant se rend-elle compte?

__________________________________________________________________________________

10. Quel est le tout dernier mot prononcé par Cyrano en mourant?

_____________________________________________________
 


FILM  12:  Questions sur Ridicule
 

1- 2.  Cette histoire se passe en quelle année: 1783? 1789? 1793?

____________________________________________________________

Pourquoi est-ce une date importante pour les Français?

______________________________________________________________

3. Quelle est la profession de Monsieur Ponceludon de Malavoy?
_______________________________________________________
 

4. Qu'espère-t-il obtenir du roi en sollicitant une entrevue auprès de lui?

______________________________________________________________

5. De quelle maladie les paysans de son domaine meurent-ils?

_____________________________________________________________

6.  Vous souvenez-vous de qui déclare : "Seule une femme peut nous rendre heureux"?  Monsieur Ponceludon ou
M. le Marquis de Bellegarde?

______________________________________________________________

7-8.  Le Marquis de Bellegarde a élevé sa fille unique selon les préceptes de quel philosophe du XVIIIe siècle? (connu pour son traité sur l'éducation)

____________________________________________________________________________

9.  Comment le petit Paul, qui est sourd-muet, sait-il que l'horloge avance de trois minutes?

_____________________________________________________________________________

10.  Vous souvenez-vous du dernier mot du Comte de Bellegarde à propos des Anglais?

____________________________________________________________________________



 

FILM 13:  Le destin fabuleux d'Amélie
 

Votre travail consistera de nouveau à traduire en anglais aussi idiomatiquement que possible, cette élégante synopse du film, et à me la remettre obligatoirement sous forme tapuscrite.

Amélie vit en banlieue. C'est une fille pas comme les autres (et si on l'aime, c'est pas de notre faute). Elle voit tour à tour son poisson rouge disparaître dans le bassin municipal, sa mère mourir sur le parvis de Notre Dame, son père vivre une histoire d'amour incroyable avec un nain de jardin. Amélie quitte cet univers opressant pour aller vivre à Montmartre, où elle est serveuse. Un soir, celui de la mort de Lady Di, le hasard brise un morceau de carrelage dans la salle de bain. Un trou dans le mur abritait une petite boîte à souvenirs d'un enfant qui avait dû vivre ici. Elle tente de retrouver incognito et mystérieusement le propriétaire de la boîte. Il s'appelle Dominique. Il en pleure de joie. Sa vie retrouve soudainement un sens.

Du coup, Amélie a aussi trouvé un but à sa vie: améliorer la vie des autres par petites touches, de la concierge à son voisin, l'Homme de verre; de sa collègue Georgette au client, l'écrivain maudit, Hipolito.  Mais un jour elle tombe sur un garçon étrange, tout aussi timide, beau. A la station Abbesses, Nino Quinquampoix (comme la rue près de Beaubourg) ramasse les photomatons sur le quai du métro. La fascination d'Amélie pour Nino perturbe un peu sa vie... Et Nino va évidemment rentrer dans le jeu d'Amélie. Elle se défile. Il lui court après. S'embrasseront-ils?

C'est une histoire d'amour, avec un grand A. L'amour de Paris et ses pavés, d'Amélie et ses coquetteries, des autres et leurs défauts, leurs qualités. C'est une histoire où on apprend à regarder et aimer son voisin, à vouloir le bien de tous. Et ça n'a rien de chrétien. C'est juste humain!




 
 
 

Films supplémentaires avec leurs questions

FILM 1:  La Haine
 

1. - 3.  Si vous deviez résumer en très peu de mots le sujet du film, que diriez-vous ? In other words: what's the film about?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

4. Par quoi, par quel symbole universellement reconnu, est représentée Paris, la ville lumière?

________________________________________________________________________________
 

5. Par quel autre symbole, "vu" seulement par Vinz dans une allée de la cité,  Kassovitz nous rappelle-t-il que La Hainen'est pas un documentaire mais du cinéma?

__________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

6. A quel personnage féminin Mathieu Kassovitz a-t-il donné la plus grande dignité dans La Haine?

____________________________________________________________________________________

7 - 9.  L'épisode le plus original du film est celui de la rencontre dans les W.C. avec le vieux Juif,  qui, lui aussi,  peut parler des ravages du racisme et de la haine sociale.  La présence de Vinz, Saïd et Hubert dans cette banlieue de Paris est la conséquence de disruptions historiques en Europe qui pourraient se résumer
pour Vinz (Juif) avec quels mots ?

________________________________________________

et pour Saïd (Arabe) et Hubert (Noir) avec quels mots?

________________________________________________
 

10.  Beurest le verlan (back slang) de quel mot français? ______________________
Meufest le verlan de quel autre mot ? ______________
 


FILM 2:  Indochine

En vous référant au texte français joint à la critique américaine plutôt négative sur Indochine,essayez de répondre aux questions suivantes:

1 - 2. Quelles sont les deux choses que Régis Wargnier a essayé de montrer au public français?

a) ___________________________________________________________________________________________

b) ___________________________________________________________________________________________

3. Quelle est, par exemple, l'attitude d'Eliane Devries vis-à-vis des Indochinois, et plus particulièrement  a) à l'égard de ses ouvriers, b) de ses domestiques, et c) de Camille, sa fille adoptive?

a) _________________________________________________________________
b) _________________________________________________________________
c) _________________________________________________________________
 

4. Pourquoi le choix de Catherine Deneuve pour le rôle principal est-il d'autant plus pertinent?

____________________________________________________________________________
 

5. Pourquoi peut-on dire que "le long voyage de Camille à travers l'Indochine est certainement un des moments clés du film"? Expliquez en anglais, si vous le préférez.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________
 

6. Au contact de la misère populaire, qu'est-ce que beaucoup des fils et des filles de familles dirigeantes ont fait?

________________________________________________________________________________________
 

7. En définitive, qui est est le moteur de l'action?

______________________________________________________________________________________
 

8. Où et par qui sera élevé le fils de Camille après la mort de son père et la non-reconnaissance de sa mère?

_____________________________________________________________________________________
 

9 -10. L'épilogue du film a lieu dans quelle ville? En quelle année? A quelle occasion importante?

a)______________________________________________________________
b)______________________________________________________________
c) ______________________________________________________________



 

FILM 3:  Jean de Florette

Répondez aux questions suivantes en choisissant a, b, ou c.

1. Ugolin rentre
a) du service militaire
b) de Paris
c) de chez un ami

2. Dans sa valise, enveloppé(es) dans un journal, Ugolin a rapporté
a) des lettres
d) de l'argent
c) des fleurs à planter

3. Au dîner, le Papet dit à Ugolin que celui-ci devrait penser à
a) travailler chez les Soubiran
b) demander de l'aide
c) se marier

4. Ugolin a planté des
a) tomates
b) oeillets
c) oliviers

5. Pour que ses plantes réussissent, Ugolin a besoin
a) d'eau
b) d'amis
c) de terrain

6) Quand Ugolin et Papet offrent de l'argent à Pique-Bouffigue, celui-ci
a) accepte immédiatement
b) ne se décide pas sur le moment
c) se fâche

7) La soeur de Pique-Bouffigue s'appelle
a) Jeannette
b) Florette
c) Paulette

8) Le Papet insiste auprès des hommes du village en leur disant
a) qu'il n'y a pas de source
b) que le terrain de Pique-Bouffigue est une bonne terre
c) qu'il voudrait acheter le terrain de Pique-Bouffigue

9. Ugolin et Le Papet
a) vendent leur maison
b) bouchent la source
c) rendent visite à Florette

10. Jean a décidé de s'installer à la campagne pour
a) éviter de payer des impôts
b) pour "cultiver l'authentique"
c) pour fuir la ville et vivre au grand air

11. Le Papet conseille à Ugolin
a) de décourager Jean
b) d'être méchant avec la femme de Jean
c) d'aider Jean de temps en temps

12. Le Papet goûte à la terre de Jean et trouve qu'elle est
a) bonne
b) mauvaise
c) comme ci, comme ça

13. Jean et sa famille sont désormais obligés d'aller chercher de l'eau à une source qui se trouve
a) tout près
b) dans le village
c) assez loin de chez eux

14. Au début de la saison,
a) les légumes et les lapins réussissent
b) les légumes réussissent, mais pas les lapins
c) les légumes et les lapins périssent

15. La sécheresse continue et
a) il ne pleut pas ; Jean se désespère
b) il pleut trop ; Jean perd espoir
c) il pleut ; Jean est heureux

16. Les choses empirent, et Jean
a) tombe malade et boit trop de vin blanc
b) veut retourner vivre à la ville
c) demande de l'aide aux gens du village

17. Enfin, Jean décide
a) de vendre son bien
b) d'abandonner ses projets
c) de creuser un puit

18. Quand Jean meurt, la réaction d'Ugolin est une réaction
a) de tristesse
b) de satisfaction
c) d'indifférence

19. Après la mort de Jean, Le Papet et Ugolin
a) obligent la petite Manon et sa mère à quitter leur maison
b) achètent maison et terrain pour une somme qui excède leur valeur
c) achètent maison et terrain pour une somme en dessous de leur valeur

20. Quand (à la fin du film), Le Papet et Ugolin retournent à la source,
a) les hommes du village les voit faire
b) la petite Manon voit ce qu'ils font
c) la mère de Manon les voit faire.



 

FILM 4: Manon des Sources

1 - 3.  Nommez les trois figures importantes du village en indiquant leur profession. (Ce sont toutes des professions exercées par des hommes)
___________________________________________
___________________________________________
___________________________________________
 

4. Pourquoi le Papet veut-il qu'Ugolin se marie?

____________________________________________________________________________

5. Comment Ugolin réagit-il quand il entend l'instituteur raconter qu'il a rêvé de Manon?

____________________________________________________

6. Que dit le Papet à propos de Manon après l'avoir vue?

_____________________________________________________________________________

7. A qui Manon ressemble-t-elle?

________________________________________________________________________________

8. Qu'est-ce que les villageois croient quand l'eau revient?

______________________________________________________________

9. Que fait le Papet le jour du mariage de Manon?

______________________________________________________________

10. De quoi le Papet meurt-il?

_____________________________________________________________
 



 

Film supplémentaire 5: Cross my Heart

 1.  Jacques Fantsen, le réalisateur, explique qu’il est fasciné par le moment de transition qui marque le passage de l’enfance à l’adolescence.  C’est peut-être, dit-il, d’où m’est venue l’idée du film: le choc entre l’illusion et la réalité.
De quelle manière Fantsen a-t-il illustré cette idée dans son film?
_____________________________________________________________________

2.  De quoi, en termes médicaux, la mère de Martin est-elle morte?
_____________________________________________________________________

 3.  Comment le sait-on? Qui nous l’apprend?
______________________________________________________________________

 4.  Pourquoi Martin veut-il cacher la mort de sa mère?  Qu’est-ce qu’il veut éviter?
_______________________________________________________________________

5.  Montrez comment les enfants sont décrits comme étant à la fois innocents et naïfs
dans leurs rapports entre eux et déjà rusés et cyniques avec les adultes qu’ils manipulent.
______________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________

 6.  Complétez cette remarque de la conseillère d’éducation:
 “Je comprends mais..._________________________________________________”.

7.  Pourquoi le prof d’histoire ne peut-il pas adopter Martin?
_____________________________________________________________________

 8.  A l’origine. ce film a été fait pour la télévision.  Mais devant son succès, les producteurs
ont décidé de le sortir en salles. Ainsi s’explique son caractère consensuel (il faut plaire à
tous les publics) et neutre.  Citez l’un ou l’autre exemple de cette neutralité?
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________

 9.  Quelle est pour vous la partie la plus drôle du film?  La partie la plus triste?
_______________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________

10.  Quelle comparaison pouvez-vous établir avec le film, Ponette?
______________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________



 

Film supplémentaire 6: La vie est un long fleuve tranquille
 

1.  Comment expliquez-vous le titre du film?
___________________________________________________________________

2.  Que se passe-t-il au moment  où le titre apparaît sur l’écran?
__________________________________________________________________

3.  Les Groseille aiment-ils les Arabes?  Comment le sait-on?
___________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________

4.  Quels sont quelques-uns des changements que l’on observe chez Maurice quand il vit chez les Le Quesnoy?
______________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________

5.  La grand-mère donne à Maurice une chaîne et une médaille.  Comment est-ce un double symbole?
___________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________

6.  Quelle impression Chatiliez veut-il nous donner du Père Aubergé lorsqu'il chante en jouant de la guitare?
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________

7.  Comment Bernadette découvre-t-elle la vérité?  Comment réagit-elle?
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________

8.  Pourquoi éprouve-t-elle ensuite toujours le besoin de se laver?
_______________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________

9. Quel est le drame de Marie-Thérèse?
_________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________

10. Quelle est pour vous la partie la plus drôle du film?
__________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________


FILM supplémentaire 7 : Olivier Olivier

1. Casquette et bicyclette rouges pour le petit Olivier portant un panier de provisions à sa grand-mère: pourquoi le film débute-t-il sur ce cliché du Petit Chaperon rouge? Autrement dit, de quoi ce cliché est-il l'annonce?

_______________________________________________________________________

2. Citez un exemple ou deux qui donnent à ce film son air de conte de fée.

_________________________________________________________________________________

3. Qu'est-ce que Marcel, le voisin à la trompette, avait demandé au petit Olivier de lui rapporter du village?

_____________________________________________________

4 - 5. Quand Olivier réapparaît six années plus tard, est-ce que celui-ci se souvient de son enfance? Que répond-il pour expliquer sa disparition? (deux choses)

a)____________________________________________________________________

b) ____________________________________________________________________

5. Nadine est très sceptique dès le premier jour. Quel test fait-elle subir à Olivier?

___________________________________________________________________

6. Pourquoi Nadine a-t-elle développé le pouvoir télékinétique de faire trembler les tables?

_______________________________________________________________________

7- 8. Après avoir dit à l'inspecteur de police qu'il n'était pas le vrai Olivier, l'inspecteur lui demande pourquoi "il a fait ça". Pour quelles deux raisons?, répond Olivier.

a)____________________________________________________________

b)____________________________________________________________

9-10. "Curieusement, commente un critique, ce sont les enfants qui assument mieux que les adultes la réalité du monde extérieur." Citez un exemple qui semble bien prouver la pertinence (relevance) de cette remarque.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 



FILM supplémentaire 8:   Le grand chemin

1. Louis est venu passer ses vacances d'été à Rouans, une petite bourgade de la Loire-Atlantique, c'est-à-dire dans quelle région de France? Le nord, le
sud, l'est, ou l'ouest?  Quelle est la grande ville (non pas Paris) la plus proche?

__________________________________________________________________

2. Pourquoi, Louis, le petit parisien, est-il venu passer les vacances à Rouans?

___________________________________________________________________

3. Quel âge a Louis et quel âge a Martine?

____________________________________
 

4. Après quel incident Louis refuse-t-il de jouer avec Martine?

___________________________________________________
 

5. Pourquoi la chambre du petit, chez Marcelle et Pelo, est-elle fermée à clé?

________________________________________________________________
 

6. Comment Louis sait-il que Marcelle est allée sur la tombe du petit?

________________________________________________________________
 

7. Pourquoi Simon, le copain,  ou fiancé,  de Solange, doit-il bientôt partir pour l'Algérie?

_____________________________________________________________________________
 

8. Que voyons-nous dans la toute dernière scène du film?

_______________________________________________
 

9-10. (Expliquez en anglais).  Le titre du film, “Le grand Cbemin”  peut aussi se comprendre d’une façon symbolique.  De quelle manière selon vous?

___________________________________________________________________________


Film supplémentaire 9:   La Cérémonie
 

1. Je vous l'aurai dit, ou vous l'aurez lu dans vos notes, "La cérémonie" était le nom que l'on donnait autrefois à quelle sorte d'exécution?

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

2. Dans ce même contexte, pourquoi Chabrol fait-il porter des tenues de soirée aux Lelièvre le jour de leur "exécution"?

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

3.  La dimension de l'analphabétisme   est très présente dans le film.  Très présente aussi l'importance de la télévision.  Comparez, par exemple, le téléviseur des Lelièvre, à écran géant et câblé, avec celui que Sophie a dans sa chambre de bonne.  Quel symbole nous est ainsi offert? (Expliquez en anglais, si vous le préférez)

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

4. Dans le même ordre d'idées, comparez et expliquez les rapports de domination établis par Chabrol dans la toute première scène, la rencontre de Madame Lelièvre et de Sophie dans un café, et dans la scène de la deuxième rencontre sur le quai de la gare de Saint-Malo où Madame Lelièvre est venue attendre Sophie.  Qui contrôle la situation dans la première et qui contrôle la situation dans la seconde?

_________________________________________________________________________________________________ _______________________
 

5 - 6. Dans la première rencontre au café, il y a déjà plein d'indices qui montrent que Sophie ne sait pas lire (ni par conséquent écrire).  Pouvez-vous citer au moins deux exemples?

a) ________________________________________________________________________________________________

b) ________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

7. Quel est l'incident qui révèle à Melinda que Sophie est analphabète?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

8.  De quelle manière Sophie traduit elle l'idée maîtresse du film: l'incapacité de lire? Autrement dit, par quel moyen Sandrine Bonnaire, dans le rôle de Sophie, nous fait-elle comprendre la souffrance visible de quelqu'un qui ne sait pas lire?

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

9 -10. Commentez en anglais cette remarque de Chabrol: "Je suis complètement fasciné par le mystère des êtres humains, et précisément parce que ce mystère n'est pas sondable." = that cannot be fathomed. Dans quelle mesure a-t-il réussi à nous montrer avec l'exemple de Jeanne et de Sophie que l'intérieur du cerveau humain est vraiment opaque?

_______________________________________________________________________________________________


 FILM supplémentaire 10:  La Femme Nikita

1. Quel "sage" conseil Amande (Jeanne Moreau), conseil répété par Anne Bancroft dans Point of No Return,donne-t-elle à Nikita?  Si vous ne vous souvenez plus des mots exacts de l'une ou de l'autre, essayez de le paraphraser avec vos propres mots (soit en français, soit en anglais)

_________________________________________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________

2. Après voir vu le clip de Point of No Return et l'avoir comparé avec La Femme Nikita, quelle différence voyez-vous entre l'original français et son remake américain. Expliquez en anglais si vous le préférez.

________________________________________________________________________________ ___________________________________________________________________________
 

3.  Traduisez en anglais en serrant le texte aussi proche que possible cet extrait tiré de L'histoire de Nikita.

"Elle a dix-neuf ans, ne s'entend pas avec ses parents et n'aime pas ce monde. Cette jeune   surnommée Nikita femme est une "ado"[adolescente] comme tant d'autres, un peu plus désespérée peut-être.  Et puis tout bascule très vite dans sa jeune vie : c'est la rencontre avec une bande de copains, avec eux elle boit, fume, essaie la dope et la descente commence.  En quelques mois, Nikita est en manque, détruite, prête à tout.  La voilà mêlée à un casse [break-in] de  pharmacie qui tourne au drame.  Sans même s'en rendre compte, elle descend un flic d'une balle dans la tête. Tribunal.  Peine maximale : trente ans.  Prison.  Là, on lui administre une piqûre.  Pour se débarrasser de cette ado enragée? Au contraire, pour l'utiliser, pour canaliser cette rage et la mettre au service des basses besognes de l'Etat!  Au réveil, Bob est à son chevet, il lui propose cette "chance." Nikita n'a pas le choix, elle accepte. A partir de là, trois années durant, les missions s'enchaînent, toujours plus difficiles, plus violentes. Trois années qui vont faire d'un chat furieux un berger allemand robotisé, prêt à obéir aux pires ordres d'un Bob qui a su séduire la rebelle . . .  Nikita tient le coup.  Mais enfoui tout au fond d'elle même, il y a encore un coeur de femme, qui va battre un jour pour Marco, le jeune type très doux qui l' aime et l'accepte telle qu'elle est. . . C'est peut-être ce qui va dérégler la belle mécanique mise au point par Bob : Nikita prend conscience petit à petit de l'absurdité de sa situation, du chantage dont elle est l'objet et du cynisme du système qui la piège.  Alors elle se révolte. Mais sa seule vraie chance de s'en sortir, c'est une solution radicale : quitter à la fois les deux hommes qui l'aiment."