Film n. 24 & n. 25: Pillow Talk + Down with Love

J'accuse!

When I moved to Paris almost 7 years ago, I found out an amazing thing about cinemas in this town: the existence of cheap fidelity cards to see movies.
These cards allow you to go to the movies anytime you want, any moment of the week, for only 20 Euros/month. It is heaven on earth, basically.
The tricky thing was that there were two different kinds of cards: one for the cinemas of Gaumont/Pathé/MK2 circuit (plus some independent movie theatres) called Le Pass, and the other one for the cinemas of UGC circuit (plus some independent movie theatres) called UGC Illimité. 

The choice was super easily made, for me: I HATE UGC cinemas, and so I didn’t even have to think about it. The reason why I hate them, is that I think their theatres are ugly and the movies they show not very good. Few years ago, for unknown reasons (at least unknown to me), MK2 decided to quit the Gaumont/Pathé circuit to join the UGC one. It was a very sad moment. I’m a huge fan of MK2 cinemas and their movies, and so the idea that they had passed to the enemy was unbearable. I didn’t change my mind, though, and I kept my pass. The reality is, everybody is choosing the card based on where the cinemas are (meaning near the place where they work or live). In my case, I was lucky: the cinemas I prefer are placed in suitable locations and accept Le Pass.
It is really, really rare that I go to see a movie in a UGC cinema.
Yesterday night, unfortunately, I did. 
You can entirely put the blame on a man, his name is Ewan McGregor. I couldn’t see his latest movie, Perfect Sense by David Mackenzie, when it was out in cinemas a couple of weeks ago and I was about to losing it: my only chance was to go to a UGC cinema, the only one programming it at a decent time (that means not at 11 am on a Tuesday morning). My friend Manù, who has a UGC pass, accepted to come with me and so off we went, looking for the mysterious UGC Orient Express!

When you think about this name, of course you imagine something very exotic, or at least very nice. Well, FORGET ABOUT IT! The marvellous UGC Orient Express is located in the worst place of Paris: the Level -4 (!) of the AWFUL complex called Les Halles. When we arrived, we were shocked by the look of it. More than a cinema it looked like the entrance of some repellent public toilets. Everything was black and bleak. The ceiling was so low that you were afraid it was about to crush down and the space was so tight that people making the queue for tickets and people making the queue to enter into the theatre were obliged to share the same space, creating an unpleasant confusion and the sensation of being guinea pigs in a cave waiting for some weird experiments.
And I want to say something to UGC people to start: when a friend of mine wants to see a film with me, my card reserves a big discount to him/her and so he/she pays just 4 or 6 Euros (instead of 10)… but nothing like this is foreseen by the UGC card. Thanks very much, guys!
So, I spent 10 Euros to be welcomed into the most horrible space ever created by a human being and I had the stupid idea of going to the toilets as first thing. Alejandro Gonzàlez Iñárritu must have shot there some scenes of Biutiful, I swear. I can’t even describe the state of the corridor and the smell of it. When I arrived at the door of the female toilet, a woman told me she was cleaning (???!!!!) them and so I should use men ones. I was furious. I opened the door and a man was pissing in front of me. And no, he didn’t look like Ewan McGregor. Far, very far from it. When I managed to get out, I entered into another cheerful black corridor and I finally reached Salle n° 1 (what can possibly be the n° 7???). Black as well, of course. Everything was so damned cheap in that place. Manù and I hesitated: should we laugh or cry? Luckily enough, the film started, Ewan McGregor appeared on screen with his lovely beard, his sweet glaswegian accent and his chef uniform. And life was – oh - so wonderful again!

Actually, the movie wasn’t bad at all. The plot was very intriguing: a mysterious epidemic is spreading around the world and people loose step by step all the senses. It is also the moment the two main characters are falling in love with each other, so, well… it’s complicated. And also quite dark, gloomy and distressing.
When the movie was over, we thought the general atmosphere of the place was absolutely perfect to maintain intact the oppressive sensation generated by the picture.
And yes, we would have loved to loose at least one of our senses: the one of smell.
Ewan, you definitely owe me one!!!

Beginners

Movies are like people.

Sometimes we meet somebody, and we feel a special connection to him/her. We feel like we talk the same language, we have the same thoughts, the same fears, and we can share feelings and experiences. Sometimes we go to the movies, and we find a film able to touch our souls using a common language, a similar way of imagining things, and conceiving this life. It is not every day, though. And this is why it is so special when it happens.

Yesterday night I went to see a "movie-friend": Beginners, by American film-maker Mike Mills (who, by the way, is married to one of my favourite artists in this world, the incredibly gorgeous and talended Miranda July).
It tells the story of Oliver, a 38 years old graphic artist, who's going through a very sad moment of his life: he just lost his father, Hal. While still in mourning, he met at a party the beautiful and bizarre French actress Anna, with whom he fell in love. Oliver's head is plenty of memories of his father and mother (who died 5 years before his dad). After his mum died, Hal, at the age of 75, made his coming out, declaring he’s been gay his whole life. Oliver witnesses his father's new life with a mixture of joy and disbelief: Hal has a younger boy-friend, an intense social life, he's surrounded by new friends and supports many activities related to the gay cause. For Oliver, who was used to see him as a quite and sad man, this is a revelation. Few years afterwards, though, Hal finds out to have a cancer stage 4 and he soon dies. Oliver is left with a lovely (and talking!) dog, Arthur, a big and empty house, and the desire - for the very first time in his life - to have a happy and possibly lasting relationship.
When I read that this was the real story of Mills, I wasn’t surprised at all. This movie has a very particular and personal touch, which permeates every scene and influences its style and its pitch. The film-maker achieves here to create something quite rare on screen: to talk about really heavy stuff (illness, death, wrong marriages, sexual identity, depression, difficulties inside families and difficulties in relationships) in an incredibly light, funny and intelligent way. We instantly feel close to Oliver’s character and his sad but amusing attitude towards life: the introduction of his house to Arthur, his dad’s dog, is one of the most surreal scenes ever. Oliver seems constantly amazed by what human existence is able to offer, in the bad and in the good sense, and isn’t this what we all experience every day?
Mills has been blessed by the most wonderful cast: Ewan MacGregor is like the good wine, the older the better, and at each new movie demonstrates there is no limit to the range of roles he can (incredibly well) play. Sweet, shy and irresistible as the gay partner of Jim Carrey in I love you, Phillip Morris, lost and scared in the Polanski’s masterpiece The Ghost Writer and the king of subtlety in this one: he is always more than perfect, never overacting, with a glimpse of Jacques Tati in his manner and his look. Mélanie Laurent, after her exploit in Inglorious Basterds by Tarantino, proves to make the right choices for her international career and she is simply lovely in this movie, while Christopher Plummer, as Hal, is simply to die for. What a great, fantastic, amazing actor he is. Born in Toronto in 1929, Plummer has been a stage actor more than a screen actor, but every time I see him in a film I wonder why he is not more famous than he is. For this role, I hope he will be covered with prizes. But it is impossible not to mention another important actor: Arthur, the dog. More human than a human being, thanks to the subtitles he even has a voice (but he admits to know not more than 150 words!). The dialogues between him and Oliver are so cute that you just want to have the same at home. 

Beginners leaves you with the nice feeling that it is never too late to start a new life. We maybe need to be brave (and crazy) enough to face the challenges that life is imposing on us. Anything can help: a sad event, the right person, a talking dog, a blog.
Just never forget: life is what you make of it! 

Kafka on the shore

I seriously considered for a moment the idea of calling this post A SINGLE MAN who had AN EDUCATION as a GHOST WRITER, but then I changed my mind, because I know which is the only movie I really want to talk about, and this is the new Polanski movie. I have seen these three pictures basically the same week and I have to say that, having spent half of my life seated in cinemas, there was no doubt, for me, about the greatest one.
Still, I want to say something about the other two.
An Education is the most disappointing movie I have seen in a while. I sincerely don’t understand all the fuss about this mediocre film. This is a TV movie of good quality, but nothing more. Nick Hornby and his screenplay? It is better to read one of his books. Carey Mulligan, the biggest surprise of the season? C’mon guys, she was right for the role, but let’s talk about her in few years and we will see what she has been able to do in the meantime. Peter Sarsgaard? He is so devoid of charisma that the only reason why Mulligan could be so fascinated by him is attributable to her young age and her lack of taste. In other words, rent the DVD and spend a couple of nice hours looking at it, if you really want to.
A Single Man is a different case.
First feature film by fashion designer Tom Ford, the movie is based upon a (splendid) novel by British writer Christopher Isherwood. Chapeau to Mr. Ford, because this is such a good movie to be his first one, and chapeau to Mr. Colin Firth, who’s always been a great actor but here has the chance to prove it in a very subtle and complete way, but… yes, there is a but. Everything is so studied, in this movie, so planned that, in the end, the story, the characters and their feelings are suffocated by this cold perfection. This is the story of a man who has lost his partner, the love of his life, this is the story about a man who’s desperate, and you can’t feel it.
And well, I’m very sorry, but this is my favourite novel by the writer who, for ages, has been my favourite writer so, Mr. Ford, you’re not very lucky because I'm very picky here: George didn’t live in a house published in Architectural Digest – December 1962, he used to live in a house so small that he and his partner were obliged to touch each other every time they met in the kitchen. And yes, even if obesity wasn’t as bad as in the years 2000, there actually were some students having weight problems, they weren’t all top models in that California campus.
But hey, please keep going, I’m curious to see what’s coming next, Tom.

In Polanski’s world, on the contrary, perfection is just there to be destroyed. Perfection is not of this world, he seems to say, and since we are all human beings, we know it, we understand it and we feel it. Ewan McGregor, and I’m obliged to use the actor’s name because (cleverly enough) he has no name in this movie, is a ghost writer who has been hired by a big editor to write the memoirs of a former UK Prime Minister, Adam Lang. Lang lives with his wife and few collaborators in a remote American island, off the Eastern seabord. Soon after McGregor arrives there, Lang is involved in a big international scandal: he is accused of war crimes (apparently, he accepted CIA's tortures over some suspected terrorists).
Besieged by journalists and people protesting against him, Lang feels trapped. When he leaves for Washington, McGregor decides to stay on the island, where he discovers disturbing secrets (his predecessor in this job has probably been murdered, Lang is very much involved with CIA). In which kind of dangerous situation did he put himself? He will soon (too bad for him!) find out.

Polanski is the Kafka of cinema.
A brilliant one. He doesn't need that much to show you how tricky life could be.
He just needs one scene: McGregor (how good is this actor? he is so amazing!) seated in his working room, inside a house made of brick and glass, near the sea. From the inside, you can look outside, at the shore, at the beach: it seems there is so much freedom in a space like that. But then, suddenly, you feel trapped. You feel anxious, because there is something extremely scary in this apparently peaceful land, and you want to run away from it. McGregor surprises in the garden a working man putting inside his wheelbarrow pieces of wood that the wind a second afterwards throws away again. He laughs, and we laugh as well, as an audience, but are we so sure that this is so funny?
It is not, and after a second we ask ourselves a simple question: which is the reason of all this?
Because it is quite clear: we are all little insects that sooner or later, after having spent our lives doing more or less useless things, will be thrown away in the same way...
This is one of the main themes of Polanski's filmography, and it is not that weird if you think about his life, an extremely difficult and controversial one: born in Paris by Jewish-Polish parents, Polanski moved to Warsaw at the age of three. Not a very good moment to do so. His parents were both deported, his mum died in a concentration camp, he saved himself hiding from the Nazis in an incredible way. Years later, he became a filmmaker and moved to the US together with his wife Sharon Tate. He was succesfull and happy, for a while, but in August 1969 Tate (8 months pregnant), was killed by Charles Manson. Devastated by the event, he started having troubles with alcohol and drugs. In 1977, Polanski was accused of Samantha Geimer's rape (a 13 years old girl) and left the States before receiving the final sentence.
This is the reason why he has never been back to the US and also the reason why, very recently (while in Switzerland to receive an award), he has been put in jail again and he is now at house arrests.
As it was often the case, his real life reproduces his biggest fears, the ones that (as Kafka in his books) he always tries to exorcize in his movies.

Some years ago, at a private screening here in Paris of The Queen by Stephen Frears (my job has very often lovely side effects), I was lucky enough to be seated very close to Mr. Polanski.
I rarely heard somebody laughing so much and in such a loud way watching a movie.
He laughed like a person who knows that it is better to enjoy the present moment, to enjoy what we have while we are having it.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring….