2023 Top Ten List #6 Winter Boy (Le Lycéen)

 

Writer/director Christophe Honoré

Honoré on the set with Paul Kircher

Kircher on the set with cinematographer Rémy Chevrin

Honoré shooting a scene in Paris

Honoré with Paul Kircher

Honoré with Juliette Binoche and Kircher

Honoré with Kircher, Vincent Lacoste, and Binoche at San Sebastian

WINTER BOY (Le Lycéen)              A-                                                                                 France  (122 mi)  2022  ‘Scope  d: Christophe Honoré   

You haven’t hurt yourself                                                                                                              Just as I thought.                                                                                                                          It’s no use                                                                                                                                        Sheltering from the wind                                                                                                                We are just seashells                                                                                                             Scattered over the sand.                                                                                                             With no chance of return                                                                                                              To when the sea was calm.                                                                                                    —Andrea Laszlo De Simone, “Conchiglie,” Conchiglie - Andrea Laszlo De Simone [Letra - Lyrics - Parole] YouTube (4:58)

While some critics are finding this uninspired, others claim it is the director’s best work to date, so it’s clear this is an impressionable work that affects people differently, but this moody film is arguably Honoré’s best effort since La Belle Personne (The Beautiful Person) (2008) more than a decade ago.  Emotionally raw and dramatically gripping, this is extremely literary, recalling the autobiographical coming-of-age narrations of Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer (Quatre nuits d'un rêveur... (1971) and Rohmer’s A Summer's Tale (Conte d'été) (1996), a film dedicated to the director’s father, with Honoré himself playing the role of the father, who dies early in the film from a mysterious car accident, with questions surrounding whether it might have been intentional, as the family is reeling from grief afterwards, specifically the impressionable 17-year old son Lucas (Paul Kircher, son of Irène Jacob, best known for her work with Krzysztof Kieślowski) who is the centerpiece of the film.  It recalls the exact same teenage scenario in Honoré’s MA MÈRE (2004), though handled quite differently, while death also plays a prominent part in his very first film, Seventeen Times Cécile Cassard (Dix-sept fois Cécile Cassard) (2002), which was dedicated “to my father; for my mother,” with bone-jarring metal music taking the place of unspoken grief.  So clearly this is a familiar theme with this director, veering into the same territory as Krzysztof Kieślowski’s THREE COLORS: BLUE (1993), André Téchiné’s Wild Reeds (Les Roseaux Sauvages) (1994), Hirokazu Koreeda’s Maborosi (Maboroshi no hikari) (1995), Nanni Moretti’s The Son's Room (La stanza del figlio) (2001), Lynne Ramsay’s MORVERN CALLAR (2002), Ned Benson’s 2014 Top Ten List #8 The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Them, and two films by Kenneth Lonergan, 2011 Top Ten Films of the Year #2 Margaret and 2016 Top Ten List #5 Manchester by the Sea.  In each of these films grief is a major element for the prominent characters, where Honoré’s films show unusual levels of depth and complexity by intensely exploring how love is like memory, never disappearing, forever etched into the fabric of our lives, yet the intimacy of this film feels more overtly autobiographical, with Lucas facing the camera interview style as he poetically describes the inner realms of his thoughts, lost in a stream-of-conscious sea of confusion, creating a theatrical effect that may be contradictory to what’s happening onscreen, WINTER BOY | Official Clip | Now Streaming YouTube (1:06).  This confessional voice-over narration continues throughout the film, with Lucas drowning himself in excess and extremes to avoid thinking about the trauma of pain, yet he is engulfed by it and can’t escape, filling him with an anger that his teenage self can’t begin to articulate, making questionable decisions with his life which continue to reverberate.  Set over the course of one winter, where the coldness dominates the wintry landscape in much the same way as Agnès Varda’s Vagabond (Sans toit ni loi) (1985), the chaotic journey that follows blends together a dual state of adolescence and tragic loss, as the emotional meltdown of the young protagonist is a reflection of the filmmaker’s own experience, much like Truffaut’s Antoine Doinel (Introduction to The Adventures of Antoine Doinel), but is primarily a fictional character, transporting Brittany to the mountainous town of Chambéry in the Rhône-Alpes region.  Initially seen happily attending his last year of boarding school in rural France (with students all wearing masks), Lucas has a gay boyfriend in Oscar (Adrien Casse), where his life as a queer teenager seems normal, studying for exams, making new friends, developing his first sense of independence, and feeling on the precipice of adulthood until tragedy hits and his life implodes, bringing him closer to his mother Isabelle (Juliette Binoche, the star of THREE COLORS: BLUE) and older brother Quentin (Vincent Lacoste), as their lives start to spiral out of control, where attempts to fill the void lead to no easy answers.  

A beautifully drawn, melancholy film, exploring an emerging gay identity, much of this is shot in darkness with claustrophobic close-ups by longtime Honoré cinematographer Rémy Chevrin, whose restless handheld camera is almost always in motion, capturing the inner restlessness of youth, mixing pastel pinks and blues into the 35mm color scheme, yet as the family prepares for the funeral, they go through a song playlist of what might and might not be appropriate for the church memorial services, getting energized by Robert Palmer - Johnny and Mary - YouTube (3:47) and a melodic synth-pop track, 'Electricity' Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (LE LYCÉEN) YouTube (1:48), as music has a way of lifting their spirits, at least temporarily, allowing them to blow off steam.  Like Shakespeare’s Hamlet, his father’s memory is a ghostly presence wreaking havoc through most of the film, gone but not forgotten, leaving Lucas wracked with guilt, literally tortured and consumed by the loss, unable to make sense of it all.  Inevitably the brothers get into a heated political disagreement that grows contentious at a family dinner, but getting away for a week in Paris with his older brother, an aspiring artist, allows Lucas a window into a completely different world, one that fascinates but also isolates, as his stand-offish brother is busy establishing his career for most of the visit so he ends up spending much of his time alone, hardly the trip envisioned by their mother with Quentin showing him the various art museums and cultural landmarks, including the Pont-Neuf bridge, ironically a central focus of one of Binoche’s earlier films made more than thirty years ago by Léos Carax, The Lovers of Pont-Neuf (Les Amants du Pont-Neuf) (1991).  Instead, Lucas spends most of his time with Quentin’s black roommate Lilio (Erwan Kepoa Falé in his film premiere, also appearing in Ira Sach’s Passages), a creator of erotic art who makes an astonishing impression as both a lover and a father figure, where the most memorable moment is playing a song on the guitar, Conchiglie - Andrea Laszlo De Simone [Letra - Lyrics - Parole] YouTube (4:58), which has an essential role in the film, with Lucas falling for him immediately, but out of respect for Quentin, Lilio tempers his outbursts of affection and instead becomes more of a big brother than his own vanishing sibling.  In an attempt to blend the dreamy and somewhat romanticized past with the present, Lucas erratically explores the boundaries of his sexual self-discovery, delving into an anxiety of moral consequences that tends to accompany the formation of sexual identity, viewing his suddenly shattered life as a wild animal that needs to be tamed, yet the Yoshihiro Hanno piano interludes have a calming effect, Bitter Hope for Three Pianos (with Paul's dialogue) YouTube (4:58), linking the various moods into a kind of understated poetry that continually seeks balance, much like musical composer Joe Hisaishi provides for Miyazaki films.  Exactly like the teenage character in MA MÈRE, death has such a drastically destabilizing effect, as Lucas similarly attempts an excessive carnal avenue to confront his mourning, with explicit scenes of nudity, where a toxic mix of love and death has the capacity to destroy him, yet in Greek mythology Eros and Thanatos also could not exist without the other (Eros and Thanatos: Freud's two fundamental drives).  With passion and precision, having reread Dostoyevsky’s novel The Adolescent before shooting began, Honoré examines the field of possibilities, where the existential landscape manifests itself in the literary exploration of the voice-over narration, which has a way of introducing the audience to new sequences, like chapter headings, charting the course for where we’re heading. 

While Lucas has questions about death, they are internalized and remain largely unspoken, instead what happens is he lives an accelerated life in such a short timeframe, at times becoming very heavy and very sad, but only because that life is always just a bit out of reach, where he hasn’t yet developed a capacity to understand, which is the real charm of the film, as it develops before our eyes, like one of those old Polaroid photographs, and viewers can lay their own claim to what they are experiencing.  Nothing is spelled out, in the best way, and there are no big dramatic moments, yet the quiet tenderness on display lures the audience into the growing dynamic of his young life, where Kirchner is something of a revelation here mastering the balancing act between the abyss and joie de vivre, feeling a desperate urge to start anew, embodying the complexities of human emotion that Honoré wants to convey through the cinematic experience, with the drama slowly escalating over time, where there is a rhythm to the narrations that include flashbacks, building to a powerfully impactive conclusion.  It’s the wandering fragility of a young adolescent that stands out, however, as the title suggests, where his story, and the surrounding lives associated with him, become pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that need to be assembled into a whole, where only fragmented pieces are shown along the way, exploring the psychology of the characters, withholding the accumulative effect until they can all miraculously come together.  In 2020 and 2021, Honoré staged Proust’s Le Côté de Guermantes at La Comédie-Française, with its central theme “To find something, it is necessary to admit we lost something,” then created an autobiographical play, Le Ciel de Nantes, for the Théâtre de l’Odéon, which won the Critic’s Prize for best play.  Both share motifs of memory and loss, which may have inspired the direction of this film, recreating Honoré’s own experience to a large extent, having lost his father at the age of 15, with the film confronting his own traumatic history with excruciating honesty, at times feeling out of time, which adds an appeal it would not otherwise have, reflecting a time in the 80’s or 90’s, yet it’s treated in a very unique way that feels completely contemporary, where the clever use of songs has a way of bringing back memories, ushering in a flood of associative emotions, something this director has always excelled at. The significance of the ensemble cast is a bit surprising, as initially it’s largely a coming-of-age film, but the warmth and openness of those on the periphery take on a more prominent role towards the end, obviously having an impact on this impressionable life, where the director likes to allow each of them to have their moments, while the narration at the end is transferred to the mother, widening the scope of the film.  Renowned for his complex narrative techniques, Honoré’s film is quite meticulous about the various stages of mourning, with each plunging into an emotional abyss, but it falls on Lucas to carry the picture, to show us the way, and he’s a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and getting scorched, yet in his darkest and bleakest hour before the fall he pulls himself from the precipice and resurrects his spirit, with death figuratively paving the road for the start of a new life, beautifully expressed through the brilliant use of that earlier song about the ephemeral nature of existence that Lilio sang for him, 'Conchiglie' - Andrea Laszlo De Simone (LE LYCÉEN) YouTube (2:27).  This has a staggering effect not only on Lucas and his family, who are utterly floored by the maturity he’s finally capable of expressing, but it’s a transforming moment for the audience as well, like an emotional catharsis with a liberating effect, creating a lasting impression that sticks with you, like that exhilarating music, Petite Maman 2021 - La Musique du Futur YouTube (2:16), at the end of Céline Sciamma’s Petite Maman (2021) that leaves you in a state of euphoria.    

2023 Top Ten List #8 Passages

 

Director Ira Sachs

Sachs with lead actor Franz Rogowski

PASSAGES                B+                                                                                                         France  Germany  (93 mi)  2023  d: Ira Sachs

A tumultuous assault to the senses from a quintessential New York City filmmaker who changed venues by making a film in Paris, the director of the tenderly crafted Little Men (2016), but also KEEP THE LIGHTS ON (2012), winner of a Teddy Award at the Berlin Film Festival for Best Queer film. and LOVE IS STRANGE (2014), films that are deeply humane and involving, Sachs is a preeminent storyteller and leading voice in New Queer Cinema who showcases a wide range of poignant and emotionally gripping work, reflected by his 2022 BFI Sight and Sound Poll vote for the ten greatest films (Ira Sachs), revealing the affects others have had on his own developing career.  Making films about protagonists who find themselves in their own very isolated and painful processes of self-discovery, the central relationships that drive his films have an integrity and moral honesty that feel unique to his artistic vision, where this film feels more in line with the uncompromising style of Maurice Pialat, who he cites as one of his influences, featuring strong performances that are deliberately unglamorous.  Perfectly evoking a sense of chaotic alienation with the intensity of a stage play, told with a mature assurance, the intimacy can be both tender and merciless, reflecting a paradise of the lonely, Sachs and his longtime co-writer Maurice Zacharias have chosen the indelible German actor Franz Rogowski from Christian Petzold’s 2018 Top Ten List #3 Transit (2018) and 2020 Top Ten List #6 Undine (2020), but also Thomas Stuber’s In the Aisles (In den Gängen) (2018), to reflect the central malaise at the heart of the film.  Veering from pathos to absurd humor, he steamrolls his way through relationships, showing no remorse for the pain he inflicts, motivated by his own sense of narcissistic entitlement, placing himself at the center of every driving thought and feeling.  When screening the film at Sundance, Sachs was genuinely surprised by the audience laughter, as bad behavior, even in a wrenching drama, can be viewed as social comedy, where the exaggerated extremes are projected as liberating.  Rogowski plays German film director Tomas at work in Paris, seen early in the film painstakingly focusing on minute details on the set, yet he exhibits a flair for the dramatic (no doubt bored without all the drama), making sure the film is made exactly the way he wants, so his imprint is all over it.  Afterwards, he and his crew celebrate the completion of the shoot with a party, yet Tomas is perturbed that his longtime partner, British graphic designer Martin (Ben Whishaw), is disinterested and wants to leave early, creating an awkward moment, but thankfully Agathe (Adèle Exarchopoulos) steps in to fill the void and offers to dance with him, taking his mind elsewhere.  It’s a sensual explosion of sound and color, yet meticulously woven together, shot by French-Canadian cinematographer Josée Deshaies, PASSAGES | Official Clip | Now Streaming YouTube (1:05), with the camera rarely leaving Tomas’s point of view, as he ends up spending the night with Agathe, taking great pleasure in his newfound excitement, which he immediately wants to share with Martin the next morning, confessing he slept with a “girl,” obviously a rarity in their gay relationship, describing it as “something different,” but Martin fails to share his interest, extremely hurt and turned off by what he views as a betrayal of trust, something Tomas fails to see, having a blind spot for his own moral indiscretions, refusing to believe he’s done anything wrong.  This incident frames everything that follows, creating a fissure in their relationship, as Tomas is driven by his own narrow focus, where he’s like a bull in a china shop, leaving shattered glass everywhere 

Tomas and Martin are part of a network of friends that meet frequently for social occasions, though they seem to click more on an intellectual level, with no real sparks indicated, but they thrive on being part of an existing gay community, where artistic expression is a driving force within the group, allowing Tomas the freedom he needs, while also satisfying Martin’s curiosity, yet both feel comfortable with this sense of place.  In an interesting aside, Martin is drawn to the literary exploits of a young French-African novelist, Amad (Erwan Kepoa Falé), whose book is all the rage, seen chatting together in a local bar, yet Tomas fails to see what all the fuss is about, not the least bit interested, especially when Amad confesses he has no ambition to write another book, never really seeing himself as a writer, something Tomas finds utterly bogus and false, as art is part of their collective identity.  Among the better realized scenes is a weekend trip to a countryside house that Martin and Tomas share, accompanied by a coterie of friends, where one of the highlights is when their friend Clément (William Nadylam), a literary agent, accompanies himself on piano as he sings Carrie Jacobs-Bond’s A Perfect Day - Carrie Jacobs Bond YouTube (3:31), a composer of sentimental art songs that attained great popularity in the early 20th century that feels like the kind of parlor song Terrence Davies might have chosen, filled with a nostalgic sentiment from a much earlier time, yet in this company it elicits a contemporary elegiac message that plays out again over the end credits.  While the strong performances are an essential ingredient, music also plays a prominent part of this film, expressing great imagination in broadening the viewer’s range of interest, which is one of the inherent achievements of the film overall, as this is never what we expect, intentionally branching out into new territory.  While the central focus is the on again and off again relationship between Tomas and Martin, where there’s an element of growing tired with each other, the attraction to Agathe, who is a primary school teacher, is an unexpected surprise, with the language changing from French to English, as both eagerly take to one another with a heated passion, even uttering the word “love,” with Tomas actually moving in with her while Martin begins his own relationship with Amad.  This is easily the best acting performance of Adèle Exarchopoulos, who’s never been convincing as a lead actress, but with most of the attention focused elsewhere, she delivers a warmly authentic performance that feels entirely natural, exuding a sympathetic warmth lacking in both men, who spend much of their time either ignoring one another, exploring new loves in their lives, or furiously making up for lost time with make-up sex, which never feels artificial, but is more like a torrential river with no return, which might recall the unpretentious simplicity of the Andrew Haigh film Weekend (2011), who is listed among the many thanks in the final credits.  No breasts or genitalia are shown, though there is simulated anal sex filmed from the vantage point of a bare behind, yet the film strangely has an NC-17 rating, so uninhibited, realistically portrayed gay sex is viewed as something that must be censored, which is a disturbing revelation, so the film was released unrated, which limits the number of theaters that are willing to show it.  In response, Sachs told the Los Angeles Times, “It’s really about a form of cultural censorship that is quite dangerous, particularly in a culture which is already battling, in such extreme ways, the possibility of LGBT imagery to exist.”  It is perhaps for this reason that the director went to France to make his film.

There is an uncensored aspect to this film that feels unique, especially the straightforward and brutally honest manner of Tomas, as he has no filter and no inhibitions, but plunges headlong into whatever interests him, while his flamboyant wardrobe choices provide comic hilarity, feeling more like a non-conformist, bohemian free spirit, yet there are metaphorical implications, as an artist in order to create needs to remain unhindered by societal restrictions, where discovering their own voice is a liberating aspect of developing an artistic identity.  The novelty of the experience with Agathe quickly flames out, however, but not until after she’s pregnant, with Tomas having a contentious dinner together with her more bourgeois parents who view him as a flight risk, which he finds both offensive and unnerving, but he doubles down on his stubborn refusal to even accept that possibility, yet the vociferousness of his denial reveals how closely the accusation comes to the truth, as starting a family requires domestic qualities he simply does not have, loyalty, patience, and responsibility.  Seemingly driving him back into the arms of Martin, Agathe can hear them having sex through the thin walls of the country home, leaving her utterly devastated, with nowhere to turn.  Tomas is tone deaf to her sudden silence, as she has nothing more to say to him, feeling like an intruder in their house, infuriated that she was so easily fooled, as her future has been unceremoniously gutted by such blatant disregard.  It’s a savage act, tearing her world apart, yet Tomas is so consumed by his own needs that he can’t for a moment step outside of his own vantage point and place himself in anyone else’s shoes.  The brazenness of his actions impresses Martin, who takes him back, thinking they’ve righted the ship and reconnected, as if their sins have been purged, feeling optimistic about what comes next.  This is no politely rendered ménage à trois from François Truffaut’s JULES AND JIM (1962), instead the shifting dynamics are brutally harsh, exposing a raw vulnerability of inflamed nerves, showing a steely resolve in matters of the heart that only grow more complicated, leaving viewers on edge, like a suspense thriller, where you wonder who will be the next tortured soul.  There’s something morbidly fascinating yet ultimately despairing about this film, where lives are left shattered, yet this poetically insightful drama explores the complexities and contradictions of love and the cruelties it often brings.  Inspired during the pandemic to create a film about intimacy, some might recall the tyrannical behavior and sexual exploits of German director Rainer Werner Fassbinder, who had sex mostly with men, but also had serious romances with women, rarely keeping his professional and personal life private, as the emotional casualties he left behind (two lovers committed suicide, while his own death came from a lethal cocktail of cocaine and barbiturates) seamlessly found their way onscreen.  There is an exalted finale that feels like a contemporary example of the French New Wave, shot on the streets of Paris, as Tomas has worn out his welcome, having alienated everyone he knows, where all that’s left is the chaos that thrives within, a wild, unimaginable force that cannot be tamed, as he furiously bikes through the streets as if escaping an unseen force steadily gaining on him, though most likely fleeing from the demons within, which have the capacity to suffocate him.  The ingenious musical choice accompanying the lengthy tracking shot is an excerpt from free jazz saxophonist  Albert Ayler - Spirits Rejoice YouTube (11:39), recorded live in a rented hall in New York without an audience in 1965, where the faintest outline of the French anthem La Marseillaise can be heard, something akin to Jimi Hendrix’s incendiary performance of the national anthem at Woodstock, Jimi Hendrix National Anthem USA Woodstock 1969 YouTube (4:25), feeling like something literally no other filmmaker has ever used, infusing the film with a staggering originality and ferocity of spirit.