Janet Planet

 

Writer/director Annie Baker on the set

Annie Baker with Elias Koteas

Annie Baker with Sophie Okonedo

JANET PLANET       B+                                                                                                         USA  Great Britain  (113 mi)  2023  d: Annie Baker

Winner of a Pulitzer prize-winning play, The Flick, by Annie Baker, in 2014, and named a MacArthur Fellow in 2017, Baker is one of the preeminent voices of her generation while also a professor teaching playwriting in various institutions, including NYU, Barnard College, Hunter College, the University of Texas at Austin, and Stony Brook Southamption.  Married to Nico Baumbach, younger brother of Noah, fictionally portrayed by Owen Kline in Noah’s autobiographical family portrait The Squid and the Whale (2005), currently a film theorist and professor at Columbia University, and part of the extended family of film director partners Noah Baumbach and Greta Gerwig, with Baker appearing briefly in Baumbach’s While We're Young (2014), her first film as a writer and director is unusual in that it appears to be told from the perspective of a quirky 11-year old child, Lacy (Zoe Ziegler, who has her own YouTube channel, Zoe._.Ziegler), a lonely, introverted, yet delightfully insightful daughter who has no real friends of her own, but has an extremely close relationship with her single mother Janet, an effectively understated Julianne Nicholson, most recently seen in Krystoffer Borgli’s Dream Scenario (2023).  What sets this apart is not only the time period of 1991, when the director would have been the same childhood age, but more importantly the woodland setting outside Amherst, Massachusetts (where Baker was raised) known as the Happy Valley, a quiet and peaceful rural community known for its beautiful trees and wildlife, where it recalls that spacy West coast atmosphere of growing up in the 60’s, when alternative living was in vogue, like living off the land in communes.  It’s rare for films to capture that unpretentious mentality so effortlessly, but this is one of the better mother/daughter films out there, as they actually talk and listen to one another, respecting what the other person has to say, strangely enough still sharing a bed together, remaining organically attached, with the director having a gift for extremely natural and realistic dialogue that is reminiscent of a Cassavetes film, complete with “likes,” “ums,” and plenty of weird pauses, where the hushed silences are full of meaning.  They remain isolated from the outside world, living in their own private world where time passes slowly, Time Passes Slowly YouTube (2:36), a song that doesn’t actually play in the film, but it appropriately captures the time and space this film travels in, completely removed from the social media rampage and hurried pace of modern life.  Baker’s plays are lessons of empathy, as she is a playwright who carefully listens to people, re-creating human speech with such delicacy that her characters feel startlingly familiar, as if we know these people.  That is the beauty of this film, a study in mood and character, as it takes us places we’ve never been, having the luxury of spending time with people we never knew, yet they remind us not only of ourselves but those people around us.  From the outset, we know this is operating on a different wavelength, with an unhurried, unconventional structure of scenes that rarely have a traditional beginning and end, but seem to exist midway between, often cutting off midstream or lingering long after they presumably end, utilizing a short script, shooting only 50 of the screenplay’s 70 pages, with a sound design that encapsulates the noises of nature, particularly frogs and crickets at night.  Reflecting a lifestyle we probably tuned out years ago, this takes us back anyways, immersed in such a beautiful pastoral setting that allows us to simply spend time with these two characters who we become become intimately familiar with by the end, as if they are members of our own families.  Drawing comparisons to the self-reflective cinema of Charlotte Wells’ 2023 Top Ten List #7 Aftersun or the magical realist world Céline Sciamma’s Petite Maman (2021), a compelling aspect of the film is that it takes us into the imagination of a child, where there are moments of adolescence that have not yet been articulated into words, but remain unspoken, a time of confusion and uncertainty, but also magic, with this film drawn to those inexplicable feelings of growing up, where we carefully observe the adults around us, trying to understand the mistakes they make, along with their sadness and pain.

Shot on 16mm by Swedish cinematographer Maria von Hausswolff, known for her work with Icelandic filmmaker Hlynur Pálmason, using oblique angles and unique compositions, this contemplative, low-budget indie film with lengthy takes subtly captures a hidden life we rarely have access to, drawing on fragments of dialogue, casual conversations, and a calculated use of reflective silences to focus on the quiet drama of everyday life, exploring how our environment and the people that inhabit it end up shaping us, yet perhaps the biggest surprise is that Janet talks to Lacy like an adult.  Reminiscent of Anna Paquin’s candid relationship with Holly Hunter in Jane Campion’s The Piano (1993), this is a portrait of two lost souls coming together over a brief period of time, with Lacy having a rather possessive relationship with her mother, where all outsiders feel like interlopers.  An atypical maternal figure, drawn to the counterculture hippie lifestyle, yet still feeling a bit lost, Janet seems to collect people, apparently attracted to damaged men she can take care of, appealing to her nurturing instincts, perhaps rooted in a difficult relationship with her Holocaust survivor father, while Lacy is influenced by the peripheral people she lets into her life, even spying on them, but it's never permanent.  The only constant in Janet’s life is her daughter, as friendships come and go, but Janet and her daughter are two misfits bound together by trust and love, expressed with a refreshing lack of sentimentality.  Lacy watches her mother intently, shown with remarkable detail and sensitivity as she practices Suzuki piano lessons on her miniature keyboard while also delving into imaginative worlds of her own creation, occasionally breaking out in humorously direct outbursts, like “You know what’s funny?  Every moment of my life is hell,” while Janet is a healing acupuncturist who works out of their home, with the name Janet Planet appearing on the front door identifying her place of business.  Lacy has little figurines that she arranges like an extended family on a small shelf, opening and closing a curtain, as if putting them to bed for the night, providing her immeasurable comfort, evoking similar scenes from Ingmar Bergman’s FANNY AND ALEXANDER (1982).  Following other playwrights who have successfully made the transition to directing films, like Harold Pinter, Kenneth Lonergan, Martin McDonagh, Neil LaBute, Mike Leigh, David Mamet, John Patrick Shanley, or more recently Celine Song and Tina Satter, this film is told in chapter headings, where each chapter marks both a beginning and an end, like the changing seasons, reflecting people that wander in and out of their lives.  First and foremost this is a quiet film, offering an experience of watching ordinary people doing ordinary things, where the surprises that come are reflected in how Lacy views what she sees, as both mother and daughter struggle with human connection.  The first chapter is Janet’s current boyfriend Wayne (Will Patton), a Vietnam veteran with a troubled past.  While he has a daughter, Sequoia (Edie Moon Kearns), that lives with her mother, Lacy enjoys playing with her, as we see them gleefully running around a shopping mall like an adventure playground, a happy and joyful experience, yet she’s endlessly curious why she doesn’t live with Wayne, a question he never answers, but seems to grow more and more irritated by the question, at one point succumbing to a migraine headache, where Lacy’s pestering questions touch a nerve, perturbed that she won’t leave the room when asked, growing so exasperated that he lunges at her, which is the last we see of Wayne.  Janet asks her daughter what to do, and Lacy suggests that she break up with Wayne.  As simple as that may be, what mothers actually take their 11-year old daughter’s advice?  That, in itself, is a revelation, as is the music heard by Laurie Anderson, Laurie Anderson - My Eyes (Remastered) YouTube (5:28), an artist who sings about the randomness of our fates and the seeming insignificance of our place in the universe, asking existential questions about the choices people make. 

The film takes a different turn in the next chapter entitled Regina, as the two of them visit an unusual performance troupe in a local farm commune that features life-size puppets (from an artist-run theater company, Double Edge Theatre Official Website), which takes us back in time, singing Elizabethan rounds and madrigals, including the melancholic Round and Round by Libana, YouTube (2:15), an a cappella women’s chorus, recalling the atmosphere of outdoor country fairs (like the Oregon Country Fair), with Janet recognizing one of the actresses as an old friend, Regina (Sophie Okonedo), who soon comes to live with them.  While she’s black and speaks with a British accent, she has that same laid-back atmosphere of the 60’s, a soul searcher attempting to find meaning in her life, hoping a change will do her good, taking up Janet’s offer to literally rescue her from a group that she describes as cult-like, Janet Planet Exclusive Movie Clip - What's a Cult? YouTube (1:39).  Despite their longtime friendship, and a few adventures with Lacy, Do lots of people fall in love with you? #JanetPlanet TikTok (1:07), Regina intrudes on their familiar space, getting high together with Janet and suddenly turns judgmental, stumbling into unwelcome psychic regions, Who’s to say? Annie Baker’s #JanetPlanet is now playing in ... TikTok (54 seconds), bringing a heavy sadness that suggests she’s still got her own issues to work out, with her ex-boyfriend, the theater group leader Avi (Elias Koteas), seen out the window picking her up and returning her back to the commune.  That’s the lead-in to the third chapter, Avi, the bearded yet soft-spoken, spiritual guru from the commune, who’s much nicer than Janet was led to believe from Regina, surprisingly so, quickly growing closer together, where the biggest surprise is that he goes off on these off-kilter philosophical tangents that come out of nowhere, with both Janet and Lacy seemingly in awe and admiration, as if in a trance, but the hypnotic spell quickly wears off and he disappears back to the commune as well, leaving mother and daughter alone once again to reflect on their lives.  With undercurrents of mysticism and spirituality, this is the kind of film that will completely alienate conventional viewers, lacking the patience to discover what lies beneath.  An unusual coming-of-age film, going against the grain of child performances, Lacy’s communication style is very direct, something her mother calls “forthrightness,” nothing particularly off-putting, but it can be startling coming from a child who’s so openly curious, observant, and straightforward.  Her mother, whose performance seems to evolve over time, has a speech late in the film that penetrates to the very soul, with Lacy remaining completely silent after asking if her mother would mind if she dated a girl, responding that she’s often thought she might be a lesbian due to her assertiveness, which might be too much for a man, yet remains judgment free (all the more impressive since it comes during the AIDS epidemic), while also confessing about her own cyclical series of constant ups and downs with revolving partners, wondering if that array of swirling emotions has screwed up her life (Baker’s own parents each married multiple times, which can be very destabilizing as a child, very infuriating), thoughts few mothers would ever consider sharing with their daughters, yet that’s essentially the heart of the film, as this young girl is trying to find her place in the world with a mother who doesn’t seem to have ever found her place.  While there are sudden revelatory monologues, and a mystical presence that surrounds the story’s edges, the motivations of the characters are often left unexplained, yet each, in their own way, is searching for self-acceptance.  One afternoon, during a bucolic picnic, Avi reads to Janet a section of Rilke’s Duino Elegies, Elegy IV by Rainer Maria Rilke - Famous poems, where afterwards he admits, “I really like you.”  But she is more interested in the poem than the man, asking him to “Read it again.”

… and when I feel
inclined to wait before the puppet stage, no,
rather to stare at it so intensely that in the end
to counter-balance my searching gaze, an angel
has to come as an actor, and begin manipulating
the lifeless bodies of the puppets to perform.
Angel and puppet! Now at last there is a play!
Then what we separate can come together by our
very presence. And only then the entire cycle
of our own life-seasons is revealed and set in motion.

Last Summer (L'été Dernier)

 

Director Catherine Breillat

LAST SUMMER (L'été Dernier)       B-                                                                                 France  Norway  (104 mi)  2023  d: Catherine Breillat

Since I’m an artist, I don’t have to be politically correct.                                                                —Catherine Breillat, Catherine Breillat: Asia Argento Is a Traitor and I don't ... 

The kind of film you’ll see made only in France, which has a tradition of summer movies that spin out of control in dizzying fashion, as it fits their sensibility of lurid provocation causing considerable outrage.  There’s a contentious aspect to all the films of this director, where fantasy always plays a large role, typically female fantasies in the context of a patriarchal society, and this is no different, as she enjoys exploring the edge of moral turpitude, literally normalizing taboo subjects, feeling very comfortable with the uncomfortable.  Described by Beatrice Loyaza in her Film Comment interview (Interview: Catherine Breillat on Last Summer) in the fall of 2023 as “the high priestess of errant female sexuality.  Throughout her career, she has continued to ruffle feathers, be it with her austere visions of (unsimulated) sex (Romance, 1999) or with her unflinchingly violent portrayals of sexual initiation (Fat Girl, 2001),” while actress Asia Argento, who worked with her on THE LAST MISTRESS (2007), fed up with her aversion to the #MeToo movement while publicly defending serial rapist Harvey Weinstein after more than 80 women made allegations of sexual harassment or rape against him, described Breillat as “the most sadistic and downright evil director I’ve ever worked with (French Filmmaker Catherine Breillat Calls Actress Asia ...).”  Coming after a period of not making any films in a decade, the 76-year old director, novelist, and European Graduate School film professor chose to do a literal French remake of May el-Toukhy’s edgy Danish film QUEEN OF HEARTS (2019), working for the first time with cinematographer Jeanne Lapoirie, who began her career shooting André Téchiné's remarkable Wild Reeds (Les Roseaux Sauvages) (1994), with a screenplay written by Breillat and Pascal Bonitzer, which premiered at Cannes in 2023.  The scandalous story recalls the moral transgressions of Woody Allen’s infamous love affair with Soon-Yi Previn, the adopted daughter of his former partner Mia Farrow, who discovered nude photographs of Previn in Allen’s home, yet they ended up in a marriage that still stands the test of time, despite a more than thirty year age difference between them, while also recalling the tabloid sensation of Todd Haynes’ 2023 Top Ten List #9 May December, which subverts the typical male predator role into a female.  Women and female desire have been a consistent element of Breillat's work, where part of equality of the sexes is an understanding that they’re both equally capable of carrying out the same kind of crimes, including crimes of passion, where certainly one of the goals of this film is to reverse gender norms.  In this regard, Breillat distinguishes herself, as she refuses to render judgment on either party, but instead presents a quasi-realist take on a particularly dark subject matter, as a torrid sexual relationship develops between a fifty-year old woman Anne (Léa Drucker, from Xavier Legrand’s 2017 Top Ten List #7 Custody (Jusqu'à la garde) and Lukas Dhont’s Close in 2022), and her self-absorbed, emotionally remote 17-year old stepson Théo (Samuel Kirchner, the son of actress Irène Jacob and younger brother of Paul Kirchner from Christophe Honoré’s 2023 Top Ten List #6 Winter Boy (Le Lycéen), who was originally cast in the role), bearing some physical resemblance to Björn Andrésen, the beautiful boy portrayed in Luchino Visconti’s DEATH IN VENICE (1971).  The French have a term for it, amour fou, an uncontrollable or obsessive passion, succumbing to the power of the flesh over reason, often with an accompanying sense of doom.  With no real audience connection to any of the characters, and her usual lack of subtlety or grace, not really her strong suit, Breillat turns the screws in making this as disturbing and as uncomfortable as possible, yet still quintessentially French, turning this into a bonafide horror movie, with a lie at the heart of the picture, intentionally left ambiguous, without a trace of melodrama, though it can feel contrived and over-the-top, bordering on bombastic, where Breillat’s characters have a history of making bad decisions and constantly lying to themselves, while the unsettling nature of the fallout can leave viewers with a sinking feeling.

Listed at #9 on Cahiers du Cinéma: Top Ten Films of 2023, and #5 by John Waters, this is an elevated family drama with a pernicious undercurrent of forbidden love, where it brings to mind Bernardo Bertolucci’s LUNA (1979), an incestuous love story between an opera singer (Jill Clayburgh) and her drug-addicted 15-year-old son, something Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky described as “monstrous, cheap, vulgar rubbish."  What makes this so abhorrent is Anne’s profession, as she’s a French juvenile rights attorney for sexually abused minors, so she’s used to seeing the traumatic harm inflicted by adults onto children, where the profound impact is not just heartbreaking, but emotionally devastating.  So she’s a gatekeeper for damaged youth, a protector from salacious and injurious acts, where the psychological damage is long-lasting and incomprehensibly toxic.  With that introductory backdrop, what follows is a cautionary tale that takes us down a rabbit hole of aberrant behavior.  Théo has been living with his mother in Geneva, but after getting kicked out of school for assaulting a teacher, this problem child comes to live with Anne and her husband Pierre (Olivier Rabourdin), along with their two young adopted Asian daughters Angela (Angela Chen) and Serena (Serena Hu), in an immense home on the heavily forested outskirts of Paris.  Pierre has business connections that require extensive travel, harboring a guilty conscience about not being there during Théo’s childhood, still having a distant relationship, with a brooding Théo remaining socially aloof, continually glued to his phone, seen moping in his room, and not really interacting with anyone.  His emotional volatility creates a negative impression, regarded as an irritant, where he just doesn’t give a damn about anyone else.  When Anne discovers he’s the likely culprit in a break-in, his self-centered attitude doesn’t sit well with her, so she attempts to set him straight, but in doing so opens herself up, spending time together during one of her husband’s prolonged absences, even allowing him to give her a small, homemade tattoo on her forearm, a completely unlikely scenario that leads to kisses and a passionate embrace, where it’s clear she has crossed the line of acceptable behavior.  As improbable as it sounds, she allows herself to get caught up in forbidden desires, suddenly reliving her lost youth in the pastoral bliss of summer, echoing Agnės Varda’s KUNG-FU MASTER! (1988), perhaps best expressed in a vintage Mercedes convertible drive out in the countryside set to the music of Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth - Dirty Boots (Revised Audio) YouTube (5:06), which is like an engine gearing up for a heightened impact.  This rebellious spirit emboldens them both, suddenly free to defy the odds and ignore all the warning signs, breaking down all moral boundaries, simply plunging into the forbidden zone, Here is an exclusive clip from French provocateur Catherine ... YouTube (2:20).  On the other hand, Anne is rarely seen without a glass of wine in her hand, potentially clouding her judgment, yet if audiences know anything about her it is that she of all people should know better, something we are constantly reminded of throughout the film.  Based on this knowledge, it’s hard to view her as a sexual predator, and she has multiple opportunities to break it off, but succumbs instead to her lustful instincts at the expense of everything else, all happening right under the nose of her husband, where this is a film that prioritizes the carnal part of the relationship rather than the havoc it could wreak, but the sex scenes play out almost entirely as close-ups on faces rather than naked bodies.  The moral hypocrisy is hard to miss, especially having seen the emotional fragility of the young girls Anne represents, yet she continually places herself in the most compromising positions, falling into an ethical free fall where rules are simply thrown out the window.  It’s hard to view this as anything other than arrogance and self-righteousness, as if this is her God-given right.      

The film is told almost completely through Anne’s perspective, allowing viewers to actually get inside her head, which adds a subversive layer to the experience.  And while this illicit couple sneak around behind the backs of adults, they are discovered by her sister Mina (Clotilde Courau), who has had her own difficult struggles in life and is truly disgusted by what she sees, as her sister is someone Mina could lean on for advice and support.  Théo doesn’t care if they get discovered, as he’s not connected to anyone or anything, but Anne has her family and career to think about, where she is jeopardizing both.  In a beautiful outdoor setting for lunch, the unsuspecting Pierre discusses taking his son for a little one-on-one time together, thinking it’s exactly what he needs, as we see Théo’s shirtless frame hovering in the background, like you see in the horror films, Last Summer (L'Été Dernier) new clip official from Cannes ... YouTube (1:31), suggesting Anne is in deeper trouble than she thinks, where the amped up tension is thick, knowing how this could open Pandora’s Box.  Upon his return, Pierre reveals his son’s startling allegations, but rather than confront the reality of her own behavior, Anne instead pretends nothing happened and doubles down on the cover up, coldly pretending it’s all a vile lie espoused by a mixed-up kid who’s trying to get back at his father for not being there for him.  The further down the road we go, the uglier and more loathsome it feels, revealing an unseemly side of the power dynamics of middle class entitlement, with Anne banking on her contention that no one will believe a troubled kid over a seasoned adult professional, where the irony is not lost on us, coming from a woman who advocates for minors, “Nobody will believe you.  You’re not credible.”  While that may be her viewpoint, it is certainly not that of the viewing audience, who are appalled at what we see, as she has betrayed not only her marriage and parental responsibilities, but also everything that her profession stands for.  Thoroughly capable of committing the same crimes as men, Anne privileges female pleasure in a way that is not only problematic, but treads rather murkily into rape territory, if not legally then certainly metaphorically.  In France, the legal age of consent is fifteen-years old, so the real taboo is incest, which applies to sexual relationships between children under 18 and their stepparents. Breillat portrays the situation with little to no judgment, even when things fall apart under the stress of outside scrutiny, but for viewers this becomes fertile grounds for horror, filled with self-deceptions, accentuated by Anne’s defiant lies and her insistent denial of any and all responsibility, essentially subverting the truth, completely blind to the ramifications, where in the end there is a general acceptance of the unacceptable.  That may be the real horror.  Who knew she would become the wicked stepmother, often seen in a devious light in fairy tales (The myth of the evil stepmother - BBC).  It shows that people of a privileged social class will resort to anything, lies, hypocrisy, or even smear tactics to defend their bourgeois lifestyles.  As a point of contention, Breillat’s own attitude towards this film bears some scrutiny, describing at a Cannes press conference that what transpires is “pure love” (Catherine Breillat Talks Taboo-Breaking Cannes film Last ...), as there is a certain romanticization in the relationship of Anne and Théo, though it couldn’t be less about “love,” as it’s so self-centered and destructive, exuding no faith in each other, or any existing humanity, with Breillat also suggesting there is no abuse, that “All of my characters are innocent” (State of Grace: Catherine Breillat on Last Summer), describing those who negatively pass moral judgment on their affair as “the ayatollahs.”  Similarly, she has spoken out against intimacy coordinators, describing them as “stupid” while also comparing them to the Taliban (Awful #metoo extremism is worse than McCarthyism).  In this instance, the director may be her own worst enemy, as her instincts for lacking any moral compass are a dangerous position for any artist, actually recalling the reaction of the Julianne Moore character in MAY DECEMBER, where a 34-year old teacher pleaded guilty to having sex with a 12-year old 6th grade student, yet in her mind she viewed statutory rape as a Shakespearean romance of star-crossed lovers, veering into a delusional psychopathic understanding, with French novelist Christine Angot similarly denouncing Breillat’s film as “an aestheticization of incest.”  As the Rohmeresque title indicates, this is one of Breillat’s lightest films, only showing what she wants us to see, yet by the end, the heavy storm clouds are lurking on the distant horizon.