LATE AUGUST, EARLY SEPTEMBER (Fin août, début septembre) A
France (112 mi) 1998
d: Olivier Assayas
After writing film criticism for Cahiers du Cinéma between 1979 and 1985, much like the New Wave
directors had done in the 50’s, Olivier Assayas emerged as a prominent filmmaker
during the second half of the 1980’s.
Not only learning to articulate cinematic ideas and choices, Assayas
also experimented with short films while writing screenplays for André Téchiné,
like RENDEZ-VOUS (1985), SCENE OF THE CRIME (1986), and ALICE AND MARTIN
(1998), where the critical success of his first screenplay is how he was able
to get his first feature financed. Like
many great artists, Assayas has been able to keep a close circle of artistic
collaborators with him throughout his career:
Denis Lenoir and Éric Gautier (cinematography), Luc Barnier (editing),
William Flageollet (sound mixing), Françoise Clavel (costume design), and
François-Renaud Labarthe (art direction/production design), all of whom worked
on this film, except Gautier, who collaborated on eight other films beginning
with Irma
Vep (1996). Similarly, a stable of
recurring actors has followed as well, including Virginie Ledoyen, Nathalie
Richard, and Jeanne Balibar seen here, also in minor roles Elli Medeiros, Alex
Descas (still working with Claire Denis), and Arsinée Khanjian (married to
Canadian filmmaker Atom Egoyan). The stellar
ensemble cast assembled for this film is a coterie of young French actors that
later became major French film stars, but these are their early years, very
much like the parts they play in the film, Parisian friends in their 30’s, most
all at a midway point in their lives, where they are at an age when they’re
settling down and becoming respectable, a time when money and a career are a
necessity, as they can’t pay rent on youthful idealism. The story revolves around the lives of six
people, where money is a constant worry, but especially for Adrien (François
Cluzet), the only one to reach forty, a critically respected writer who has
already written three novels, but none were a success, becoming unfailingly
critical of his own failings. He develops
an unknown sickness that nearly costs him his life, where the film plays out
like THE BIG CHILL (1983), where a group of friends grow increasingly concerned,
but it’s not his death, but their own mortality that is suddenly challenged,
beautifully conveyed with a probing, novelistic density.
After becoming familiar with the work of Taiwanese director
Hou Hsiao-hsien, Assayas, in a 1999 interview in ArtForum, believed he has “a particular way of describing time, of
describing the progression of action: you’ll
have fragments of the same reality, and sometimes time is not moving.” In this case, the center of the film is an
ailing man, but the narrative structure is developed from eliciting a series of
personal reactions to his sickness, including characters sharing thoughts and
recollections, who are also involved in their own personal connections, both
present and past, all of which add complexity to their lives, as the audience
is able to develop a greater understanding of all the characters through a
series of interconnected relationships.
The film is divided into six chapter headings that only slightly advance
the story, such as a week later, or two months later, reflecting a passing of
time, yet the connections between the characters are only slightly altered, yet
over time, this change, both in time and subjectivity, becomes more significantly
noticeable. Gabriel, Mathieu Amalric,
always nervous and insecure, is a book editor that admires Adrien and looks up
to him, who undergoes a pronounced change when the usually stoic Adrien starts
revealing personal feelings about himself and his life, such as his
illness. Gabriel has a highly volatile
but extremely attractive younger girlfriend, Virginie Ledoyen as Anne, but he’s
not yet ready to commit, which only angers her, often disrupting things for the
worse. Gabriel is selling his former
apartment with his ex-girlfriend, Jenny, Jeanne Balibar, exposed and vulnerable. In a case where truth is stranger than
fiction, these two in real life were involved romantically at the time, and
their scenes together as ex-lovers couldn’t feel more natural, as you can sense
their still thriving but not acted upon attraction, though both are two of the
most gifted actors working in France.
Adrien also has a secret teenage love with the 16-year old Vera, Mia
Hansen-Løve, currently married in real life to the director, and a director in
her own right, though only 17 at the time, while Arsinée Khanjian is his old
flame, still bitter about their breakup.
The film is shot on 16mm and blown up to 35mm, where part of
the artistic vision is achieved by the masterful hand-held cinematography by
Denis Lenoir, much as he did in Cold
Water (L’eau Froide) (1994), using long, unbroken takes, where the constant
camera movement reflects the continuing restless anxiety of the
characters. The episodic structure,
divided into segments like chapter titles, emphasizes the effect of time and
the way people drift in and out of each other’s lives, where often weeks or
months pass between visits, yet the viewer has a deep sense of each character,
where it’s interestingly a time when writing letters was how absent lovers
expressed themselves, where a passage of time would have to occur before there
was a response. The film often skips a
step and jumps ahead, where the relationship has already shifted, expressed by
a glance, or a few words, such as the advancing illness of Adrien, where the
change has a noticeable effect on each one of them. Much like the Ozu title suggests, the movie
is filled with ordinary moments, yet when strung together it leads to remarkable
lives. Without an ounce of
sentimentality, we get a sense of changing seasons and time passing, where
throughout Assayas scrutinizes personal relationships and changing
perspectives, including the role of sex, family, career, and friendships, not to
mention how each of us responds differently when facing mortality. The film is an impressionistic mosaic of
interconnecting lives, where the social drive for honesty and truthfulness with
one another is a surprisingly tender notion often lacking in modern era films,
which, despite the improvements of social media, are more often defined by
alienation and distance. This is a film
that beautifully expresses the subtlety in relationships, where Gabriel and
Anne visit his brother (Eric Elmosino) and wife (Nathalie Richard) at their
home in the country with family and close friends, including Gabriel’s ex-lover
Jenny. As they all try to come to terms
with the seriousness of Adrien’s condition, they are intensely expressing their
grief while the younger Anne, still seen sitting off to the side, quietly
withdraws into herself, completely excluded from the intensity of this adult
world, literally unable to comprehend this entire chapter of Gabriel’s
life. Similarly, the way Adrien’s
friends discuss the teenage girl Vera after he dies is heartbreakingly cruel,
where she’s largely seen on the periphery of the screen, saying little, where
she remains an entity unknown to them, so she is excluded from what rightfully
belongs to her when dividing up Adrien’s artworks and personal possessions, as
she’s not viewed as a mature person.
Unknowingly, they are disconnecting what we already understand to be a
loving relationship. The beauty of the film, however, is the ease in which relationships
form and split apart, only to reconnect again in a completely unexpected
context, becoming a brilliant character study where relationships are never
static, but continually adapt to the changing world around them.




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