Director Claire Denis (left) with actress Juliette Binoche
LET THE SUNSHINE
IN (Un Beau Soleil Intérieur) B
France Belgium (95 mi) 2017 d: Claire Denis Juliette Binoche: The Art of Being - Official Fansite
France Belgium (95 mi) 2017 d: Claire Denis Juliette Binoche: The Art of Being - Official Fansite
A kind of
wistful comic romp is not what we’re used to seeing from this director, far
from the moody depths of her typical despairing works, probably closest to, but
never rising to the level of VENDREDI SOIR (2002), yet nonetheless engaging in
so many respects, though it catches us off-guard by being so emotionally
open. At the center is Juliette Binoche
as Isabelle in a harrowingly wonderful, tour de force performance, energetic, sublime,
an unstoppable force, playing a woman divorced, now in her 50’s, who works as a
painter in one of her more memorable roles, where her character is a bit goofy,
but exasperatingly honest and clear-headed, having what it seems is a midlife
crisis, as her biggest fear is that romance in her life is suddenly dead and
buried, that it’s all behind her, yet it resurrects its head with each
impassioned relationship with someone new, moving from one man to the next in a
delightful game of musical chairs. With
Denis working this time with a co-writer, novelist Christine Angot (and perhaps
uncredited help from frequent collaborator Jean-Pol Fargeau), together they
tackle a modern adaptation of Roland Barthe’s 1977 novel, A Lovers Discourse: Fragments, (Fragments d’un discours amoureux), which
is more of a philosophical exploration of a lover’s inner monologue, inspired
by Goethe, Plato, Nietzsche, Freud, Sade, Sartre, and others, becoming an
examination of hopes, complaints, and reflections about love when alone, musing
on its subconscious effects, trying to make love intelligible once again. Perhaps the real key is they likely adapted
nothing from the novel, instead creating something entirely new and free from
literary constraints. Now if that’s not
a daunting task, yet Denis makes it seem effortless, turning this into a modern
era comedy about one woman’s perpetual search for “true love” in all the wrong
places, where we move from exhibit A to exhibit B, and so forth, where each
could be the one, but isn’t, leaving Isabelle feeling like she’s running out of
time. Binoche couldn’t be more
refreshing, an indomitable spirit that refuses to be deterred, committing
herself fully, rushing headlong into each new relationship with renewed hopes,
yet inevitably ends up dissatisfied and disappointed. Far from being deflating, however, Denis finds
humor in each and every obstacle, some of it downright hilarious, though a
darker underside provides a counterpoint throughout.
While Kate
Winslet refuses to do nude scenes any more, this doesn’t apply to Binoche, who
is naked from head to toe in the film’s opener, where we find her in the throes
of mad, passionate sex with Xavier Beauvois, yet it turns on a dime into a
comedy of errors, with each, apparently, not getting what they want, turning
into a kind of sexual misadventure until an inappropriate remark leaves both in
a state of disconnect, and while Beauvois seems perfectly content, Binoche is
devastated. When we see them again at a sophisticated
bar, Beauvois couldn’t be more of a contemptible snob whose arrogance has no
bounds, a banker dulled and confined by his career choice, eager to find others
outside his field, like free-spirited artists, for instance, where momentarily
they revisit an incident that has overt sexual parallels with the pathetic final
scenes of LAST TANGO IN PARIS (1972).
But after indiscreetly revealing an unsubstantiated rumor about her
prospective work partner, suggesting she had an affair with one of Isabelle’s
former lovers (a tall tale, having a good laugh afterwards with her partner, Josiane
Balasko, over that one), the banker’s manner is unfailingly rude, thoroughly
disgusting Binoche, who feels it’s time to move on. Beautifully shot by Agnès Godard, with extreme close-ups of faces, with
atmospheric music provided by Stuart A. Staples from the Tendersticks. While
the film is a series of dubious choices, in the interludes, we see Binoche
flopping onto her bed in a state of disarray, yet her wardrobe changes are
noticeable, cleavage exposed, short skirts and black stockings, always dressing
with a flair for being chic, and young, where she turns the difficulty of
taking off her zippered, near knee-length boots into one of the more enjoyable
moments of the film, screaming in agony, while at the same time mad at the
world for being so discouragingly unfair.
Perhaps the best sequence of the film has Isabelle literally stumbling
into an actor after a performance, meeting a young and handsome Nicolas
Duvauchelle, where they have a drink (where he amusingly consumes endless
glasses of beer, continually handed one after another), and she eventually
entices him back to her place, where the noncommittal back and forth verbiage
is simply masterful, neither one wanting to reveal their hand, playing it coy,
offering hints, but remaining vague, completely shifting positions, usually
ending up doing the opposite of what they imply, where eventually, once they
stop blabbering, they can’t take their hands off each other. Awakening in sheer amazement at the stroke of
good fortune, Isabelle is dumbfounded to discover the actor felt it was all a
mistake, that whatever possibilities were there at the outset are now
irretrievably gone, where this increasingly absurd dialogue is simply
remarkable.
Opening at the Director’s Fortnight at Cannes, Denis prefers
a lower profile, away from the flashiness of competition, where she reinvents
herself with every new film, tackling the heartbeat of middle age, particularly
strong-willed women who are still searching for a romance that works. Other men her age, or from a similar class,
tend to be noncommittal, already married with children or turned off by failed
marriages, remaining skeptical about relationships altogether, just wanting the
sex, yet for men, the idea of being with a beautiful woman is “always” a
possibility, even if it’s only in their dreams.
One guy exemplifies this futile chase, always meeting her “by accident”
in front of the fish market, inviting her to his newly rehabbed home in the
country, to stay as long as she wishes, making it sound like his presence would
be negligible. While remaining polite,
she routinely ignores him. Perhaps the
most exaggerated presence goes to Paul Blain, humorously resembling a world-weary
Mick Jagger on the prowl, a man lurking in the shadows at a club that notices
her when they play the classic Etta James ballad “At Last” Etta James - At Last -
Lyrics - YouTube (3:04). Sneaking up
behind her, they have a dreamy but beautifully staged dance together without
uttering a word, becoming a parody of what many women must expect. Perhaps the true test of this film is
combining the forces of Binoche and Gérard Depardieu, who publicly trashed her
reputation as an actress, calling her “nothing” onscreen in a 2010 interview, Gerard
Depardieu calls Juliette Binoche 'nothing' in provocative ..., while
Binoche, for her part, says they had barely spoken more than a sentence or two
together in her whole life, failing to understand his beef, though the bravado
she expressed in 2014
Top Ten List #3 Clouds of Sils Maria seems to have been motivated, in part,
by that public dispute, re-establishing her reputation as one of France’s
finest actresses. While admittedly horrid
in Bruno Dumont’s exaggerated comic misfire Slack
Bay (Ma Loute) (2016), this is yet another resurrection that confirms she’s
one of the best actresses working anywhere in the world today, bringing a
unique vitality to her role, still vulnerable and easily wounded, as she has
been throughout her career, yet able to fend off the best of them. But what about working with Depardieu? How would that play out? Using the tricks of the trade, they were
never filmed in the same shot, which means they were likely never on set
together at the same time, yet they appear onscreen opposite one another, where
Denis magically brings them both together in a spirit of unison. Depardieu offers a lengthy monologue at the
end as a somewhat devious fortune-teller describing her romantic journey,
implanting hints that place him in contention with the rest of the pack,
perhaps assuming the lead dog position after she’s had her fill of young pups,
but never coming right out and saying it, allowing the audience to read between
the lines. As if proving
unconventionality, the closing credits appear over this dialogue as it
continues, creating a screen diversion, perhaps a metaphor for all the
interruptions that effect our lives, seemingly banal, yet an accumulative force
that can be sheer aggravation, preventing us from being whatever the hell it is
we think we should be.
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