On a Magical Night (Chambre 212)

ON A MAGICAL NIGHT (Chambre 212)               B                    

France  Belgium  Luxembourg  (90 mi)  2019  d: Christophe Honoré

This is a quintessential French film, filled with Frenchness.

―Festival programmer Alissa Simon introducing the film

The origin of the film happened to be a viewing of Leo McCarey’s THE AWFUL TRUTH (1937), a screwball comedy from the 30’s starring Cary Grant and Irene Dunn.  From that, Honoré started writing a screenplay for Chiara Mastroianni reimagined as a Cary Grant character, becoming the director’s first film shot in a studio, beautifully shot on 35mm in glorious color by longtime cinematographer Rémy Chevrin who has worked with this director since his first film, recreating a love farce as a comic fairy tale of magical whimsy, all taking place over the course of one night, intertwining ghosts of the past and perfumed songs of the night to comment upon a marriage that has lasted 20 years, but subject to introspection, asking all those delicate questions about what might have happened, playing the “what if” game.  Deliriously exaggerated and over the top, it plays out in a freewheeling screwball comedy mode, using a casually blasé Chiara Mastroianni as the ever-charming serial cheater in marriage, cast as Maria, a law professor, seen screwing one of her students near the opening, basically in love with his name, Asdrubal Electorat (Harrison Arevalo), but she seems to make a habit out of it.  Having a way with words, she seems to be able to rationalize all behavior, finding justification for pleasure, never thinking of it as a threat to her marriage.  Meanwhile, her faithful husband Richard (Benjamin Biolay, married to Mastroianni for three years in real life, divorced in 2005, sharing a daughter) stays at home, having given up a promising career as a jazz pianist, and has suspected nothing through the years, but discovers a trail of romantic messages left on her cellphone.  Confessing everything, all revealed as a matter of fact, Maria has no reservations or regrets, thinking it’s near impossible to stay faithful to a single man all your life, that occasional flings are good for the soul, kind of an existential recharge.  Crushed by these revelations, Richard tries to console himself alone, particularly after a stinging remark asking if he would have been happier marrying his piano instructor, so Maria, ever vigilant, grabs a suitcase and moves to the Lenox Montparnasse Hotel directly across the street (without telling him) into Room 212 (the French title) where she can keep an eye on her husband.  From the outset, the film is viewed through Maria’s point of view, where her vivaciously brash manner is utterly spellbinding and aggressively appealing, appearing casual and upbeat, always having the last word, as she seems to be a woman on a mission, with her sexual impulses on overdrive, yet continues to be loving and extremely respectful to those inhabiting her world.

Once in the hotel, however, the mystery begins, with Vincent Lacoste from Honoré’s Sorry Angel (Plaire, aimer et courir vite) (2018) suddenly appearing as a 25-year old version of Richard, handsome and charming, but more flirtatious and energetic, eager to see her again.  A bit flummoxed by the visit, she has to look across the street to believe her eyes, as she’s able to see two version of him at the same time.  This younger Richard is ready to pick up where things left off, as he’s the man she fell in love with, but no longer exists, seemingly the dilemma of every marriage.  When her mother shows up scolding her from the other room, it’s like returning to her youth, having to answer to authority.  Torn by her situation, wondering whether she should she cheat on her husband with this younger version of her husband, the young man is ready to go for it, suggesting it’s the best of both worlds, as this is what she really wanted all along.  However, like a crisis intervention, more spirits appear, this time it’s Richard’s former piano teacher and first love, Camille Cottin as Irène Haffner, suddenly her rival in love getting into it with her.  While the two don’t exactly get into a catfight, Maria is a bit flustered by this turn of events, feeling a tinge of jealousy, with Irène ready to console the man alone across the street, believing she can offer what Maria can’t, marital fidelity, which feels like a real slap in the face.  But that’s the kind of film this is, where fidelity is viewed as a low blow in this mischievous night of returning spirits, resuscitating old wounds, delving into all manner of unanswered questions that leave her feeling a bit haunted.  Even a man pretending to be a fake Charles Aznavour shows up ready to perform his crooning piano lounge act in a leopard sport jacket while attempting to be the voice of reason.  This kind of film is all about comic timing, abrupt changes of pace, and shocking new revelations that arrive at every turn, often making audiences howl with laughter while also exploring a more serious side.  In no time, the room is filled with scorned lovers, filling up every conceivable space, each wanting a piece of her, like an insurrection of her troubled conscience, while she tries to hold it together.  Meanwhile, Irène confidently makes an appearance across the street, surprising Richard, catching him off guard, where he has to question whether he’s ready for this.  Despite Irène’s sensual advances, suggesting she’s the answer to all his prayers, Richard still has feelings for his wife, refusing to believe she’s left him, thinking she could return at any moment, and that they have too much invested to simply abandon it all now, thoughts that utterly jolt Irène’s senses, stopping her in her tracks, realizing she was never an option. 

There’s a curious flash forward to an older Irène (Carole Bouquet) living alone in a sandy beachside cottage, finding herself surrounded by bohemian artworks, with no need for a man in her life, yet her options are open if the right woman comes along, suddenly gazing over at Maria, who has to immediately snap out of it.  The film is built around themes of wondering what might have happened had they made different choices, featuring a constantly inventive theatricality, including roving camera movements that reflect a curiously changing stream-of-conscious mindset, and selective choices of music that add a hauntingly melancholic tinge to the proceedings, from the austere minimalism of Recomposed by Max Richter - Vivaldi - The Four Seasons ...  YouTube (4:42) to a flabbergasting use of Barry Manilow, Barry Manilow - Could It Be Magic (original 1973 album ... YouTube (7:17), where every word of the lyric suddenly erupts with newfound meaning, surging in every direction (“Whirling like a cyclone in my mind”), creating a kaleidoscopic emotional whirlwind that’s quite effective, eventually becoming a sorrowful introspection of love.  Honoré’s films tend to leave audiences sharply divided, and his use of songs as an extension of the narrative is no exception, as he doesn’t accompany songs with traditional dance numbers or a lively choreographed sequence à la Jacques Demy, but instead delves into the downbeat psychological mindset of the character, often submerged in anguish, lost love or grief, where musical numbers are used in the exact opposite manner of one’s usual association, namely happy and upbeat.  This pattern has continued throughout Honoré’s films since DANS PARIS (2006), and while there may be few admirers of the pop music of Barry Manilow, the poetry of the lyric is cleverly interwoven throughout this film, creating a melodious rush of energy and exhilaration, where the music literally soars with a yearning for love.  While set in the present, with Paris essentially viewed as the city of love, the distinct look of the film embraces a nostalgic era of yesteryear, evoking Paris of the 60’s with no turmoil, free of consequences and responsibilities, where everyone chain smokes and orders fancy cocktails while getting through the existential crisis of the day.  Expertly written and staged, the film displays rare aesthetics, but the real star of the show is Chiara Mastroianni in a seductively alluring performance, awarded best actress in the Un Certain Regard section at Cannes, bewitching and so at ease, a frequent collaborator with Honoré and his thoroughly enchanting style of film, with interior feelings remaining ambiguous until the end, filled with dreams and doubts, where comedy and regret go hand in hand, along with hope and disillusionment.   

Unforgivable (Impardonnables)

UNFORGIVABLE  (Impardonnables)      B-             

France (108 mi)  2011  ‘Scope  d:  André Téchiné

André Téchiné has distinguished himself through elegant films that delve into the complexities of human emotion and relationships.  Known particularly for his ability to draw strong performances out of his female performers, Téchiné has collaborated with some of his country's most respected actresses, and some of the best examples of his work were his collaborations with Catherine Deneuve:  HÔTEL DES AMÉRIQUES (1981), SCENE OF THE CRIME (1986), MY FAVORITE SEASON (1993), and THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN (2009).  Téchiné has continued to make moody, dysfunctional romantic dramas that are tinged with an element of intrigue or violence and is among the most adroit social observers in the modern era, usually writing or co-writing his own films which have an intimate chamber drama quality with an understated intelligence, accentuating the performances, including the entire ensemble cast, is fond of the use of ‘Scope, and this film is no exception.  Adapting a novel by Philippe Djian, whose work 37°2 Le Matin was the basis for Jean-Jacques Beineix's BETTY BLUE (1986), this is a somewhat disappointing venture of the French culture invading Venice, full of gorgeous color and picturesque locations on the island of Sant’Erasmo, but bringing with them a pronounced inability to communicate and a baffling lack of appreciation for Italy.  Typically novelesque, there are a host of interconnected characters, each coming under the director’s scrutiny, but none that ever connect with the audience, as there’s a thoroughly unengaging sense of disconnect that prevails throughout, continually offering a foreigner’s perspective, feeling out of place, where the guiding principle seems to be a discomfort in one’s own skin and an inability to accept who you are.     

Moving the novel from the Basque coast of Spain, where Téchiné filmed HÔTEL DES AMÉRIQUES, to a remote island across the channel from Venice, the story concerns the arrival of a Parisian writer Francis (André Dussollier) looking for a little peace and quiet where he can write, initially locking horns with real estate agent Judith (Carole Bouquet), before being offered a spectacular location a mere boatride away, where of course en route their tiny motorboat runs out of gas midway across just as a giant ship is passing by, immediately suggesting imbalance as well as the lurking presence of danger, but Francis is moved to rent the seaside villa for one year on the condition that Judith live with him.  As preposterous as this sounds, the film flashes forward to the following summer where the two are a happily married couple living together on the island, where she’s continually in transit on working assignments, completely independent, with an endless history of lovers both male and female, which leaves him alone, but unable to write, as he has other pressing issues to worry about.  After a brief visit from his continually dissatisfied and overwrought daughter, the actress Alice (Mélanie Thierry), and her young daughter, Alice simply disappears, causing Francis plenty of worry, which has a way of coming between he and Judith, as if the bond of trust has been broken.  Francis decides to hire Anna Maria (Andriani Asti), a retired detective and former lover of Judith, to search for his missing daughter.  Perhaps not unexpectedly, what she discovers is that Alice hasn’t so much disappeared as escaped into the arms of a young love Alvise, Andrea Pergolesi, an aristocrat of noble parentage but currently dabbling in petty crime to cover a continual cash flow problem, where life in Venice is seen as a web of deceit.

Unfortunately, none of these new characters introduce any new life into the film, where instead the drama shifts to Francis all alone on the island, continually brooding about his wife’s excessive absences, always claiming work, but he suspects romance, especially since the intensity of their torrid romance has flickered out.  Ridiculously, he hires Anna Maria’s son Jérémie (Mauro Conte), fresh out of jail, to tail her, but his methods couldn’t be more obvious, especially when the trailing boat is following so close behind you could almost touch it.  What this really suggests is that Francis is continually driving women away, his wife, his daughter, through his suffocating distrust, unable to accept them as they are, free and independent women, always suspecting the worst.  Many of these characters have duplicitous sex lives, offering an undertone of liberal mindedness throughout, but Téchiné seemingly does so little with these characters who drift through their lives barely knowing one another.  Something of a relationship study, these relationships are defined by an inability to understand and accept the inherently shifting boundaries which are continually in flux, much like the interconnecting watery canals of Venice, which offer a stark contrast from the rigidly fixed cement and asphalt roadways back home in France, where one’s feet are firmly planted on the ground.  Of particular interest is an unexpected flashback sequence showing archival black and white images of Andriani Asti when she was a captivatingly beautiful young woman, offering perhaps the most unusual reflections in the film, the fleeting brevity of youth, all lost in the blink of an eye, where before you know it the adrenal rush of excitement in the physical attraction of love changes to a more mature understanding, older and wiser, where the earth shifts beneath your feet aren’t always a disaster in waiting, a cause for concern, but simply the earth shifting, where the rigid standards for the titled offenses become less severe, accepted as more common, ordinary occurrences.