2018 Top Ten List #6 It's Only the End of the World (Juste la fin du monde)

Director Xavier Dolan on the set

Dolan with cameraman André Turpin on the set

IT’S ONLY THE END OF THE WORLD (Juste la fin du monde)             A-                   

Canada  France  (97 mi)  2016  d:  Xavier Dolan

I don’t understand you.  But I love you.  I love you.  No one will take that away from me.

―La mère (Nathalie Baye)

Perhaps critics are tired of the narcissistic inclinations of a bombastic young director who’s been described as a wunderkind, finally drawing a line in the sand and claiming “No mas.”  It has been pointed out that Dolan’s films deal with relationship strife, where his earlier films, in chronological order, center upon “a spiteful queer teenager, a love triangle, a man transitioning to become a woman, the aftermath of death, and a teenager with autism,” with near unanimous consent declaring that his most recent work, showing a family imploding upon itself, is a drastically lesser work.  The film was mercilessly booed by critics at its press screening in competition at the Cannes Film Festival, especially after it was announced it was awarded the festival’s Grand Prix (2nd place) and also the Prize of the Ecumenical Jury, described at the time as “the worst decision Cannes has made in more than 20 years.”  Immediately panned by American and British critics, yet raved by French critics (some of which is summed up here: English-speaking critics don't get Xavier Dolan | Montreal Gazette), the reactions were swift and overwhelmingly negative, described as “insufferable, “a screeching melodrama,” his “first total misfire,” “a disaster,” yet conceding it may be his “most mature work (but also his) most unbearable … a frequently excruciating dramatic experience in which characters seem almost never to stop talking.”  Perhaps shouting is a more appropriate description, as the play it’s based upon is overwhelmingly suffocating, yet that’s exactly what it’s intended to be, existing in a unique world all its own.  Critics rejected it anyway, described as “unfortunately his worst by some distance,” or “It’s like watching assholes scream at each other for two hours,” where Peter Bradshaw from The Guardian was the lone English critic singing the film’s praises, describing it as “histrionic and claustrophobic: deliberately oppressive and pretty well pop-eyed in its madness ― and yet a brilliant, stylised and hallucinatory evocation of family dysfunction: a companion piece in some ways to the epic shouting match that was Dolan’s earlier movie, Mommy.  This is a pressure cooker of anxiety, a film with the dials turned up to 12,” while Mark Peranson from Cinema Scope wrote “it’s a one-note film that sets a shrill tone early, never wavers over the course of its mercifully short running time, and is an experience completely bereft of any pleasure or fun, right down to André Turpin’s claustrophobic cinematography.  Say what you will about Mommy (2014), but at least it had, as one says in the fashion world, ‘flair’; Juste la fin du monde takes the fun out of dysfunction.”  One of the problems at Cannes, or any important festival, is the significance of instant analysis from social media, where critics are expected to spout opinions the minute a film is over, while like-minded viewers all get on their twitter feeds to make their pronouncements, which in this case condemned the film to a swath of uniform negativity, with hateful comments right out of MEAN GIRLS (2004), completely ignoring texture or what the film was about.  When The Playlist’s Jessica Kiang wrote, “It suggests a level of martyred self-involvement on Dolan’s part that is tantamount to a persecution complex,” Dolan responded on Twitter, “I’ll be alright, Jess.  As long as I ignore your cheap parallelism between a life you don’t know and a play you’ve never read.”  Dolan understandably took offense at being dismissed in such a collective fashion, with everyone ganging up at once, describing a mentality he thought was overly personal and unfairly lemming-like.  “This is not journalism.  It’s gossip.  It’s pretending to be a sophisticated analysis, but really it’s cheap psychology.”  The only new film at Cannes to be screened on 35mm and not digitally, it was a box office hit in France, becoming Canada’s official submission for Best Foreign Film, reaching the shortlist of nine films, but not the final five. 

Never released theatrically in the U.S. (viewed on Netflix), this is only the second Dolan film after 2014 Top Ten List #7 Tom at the Farm (Tom à la ferme)  to be written by someone else, in this case French playwright Jean-Luc Lagarce back in 1990, as he was attempting to express the inexpressible, stricken with AIDS and dying from the illness within five years at age 38.  Among the subtle changes, the film is spoken entirely in European French and not the more idiomatic and colloquial Québécois language spoken by the French-Canadian director.  This was reportedly one of the things that inspired Dolan the most, as if he was experiencing an altogether new play.  The overall feeling of doom is the most pervasive influence hovering over the film, haunting and overwhelming everything in sight, like a bulldozer mowing everything down, even the most intricate thoughts.  It’s a starkly realistic drama that’s in-your-face most of the time, refusing to allow viewers any air to breathe, literally sucking the life force out of the room, which occurs over and over again, like a record on repeat, reliving the uncomfortable moments all over again.  While it’s anything but a crowd pleaser, it’s a dramatic tour-de-force featuring some of France’s best performers, beautifully acted, in some cases working against type, proving to be a powerhouse theatrical work along the lines of Mike Nichols’ Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966), as characters are stripped naked and defenseless, at least for a moment, where you substitute booze with being gay and having AIDS, which puts you at a disadvantageous place and keeps you there, often unable to speak.  Rivaling the dark tone of family dysfunction (and the yelling and screaming) is Tracy Letts’ August: Osage County (2013), which was a 2008 Pulitzer Prize winner, with Meryl Streep playing one of the vilest characters she’s ever played, where this is a vast improvement over the lackadaisical direction of that film.  Dolan turns this into a claustrophobic chamber drama, complete with extreme close-ups, tight framing (no medium establishing shots), with short bursts of dramatic music, cinematography by André Turpin, but it’s what he does with music in brief flashback sequences that adds such a modernist touch, caught in a momentary reverie before jarring jump cut sequences create abrupt mood changes that snap us out of it, slapping us back into the present, yet feeling weak and helpless, unable to drive the narrative, continually feeling like you’re getting eaten alive.  Louis (Gaspard Ulliel) is a successful gay playwright that decides to return home after an absence of twelve years, where he intends to tell his family the bad news that he’s dying, where that’s awkward enough, but his family is so dysfunctional and temperamental, a picture of volatile emotions and frayed nerves, that they continually self-destruct before he has a chance to reveal anything.  The overall sense of alienation is dramatically drawn, not just in time and distance, but in the absence of things we value most, like trust, sharing, or even helping.  None of that exists here, as he’s more like a stranger, becoming famous somewhere else, living a mysterious life that involves none of them, where to each and every one of them he’s an open question mark, where the reason for his visit is veiled in uncertainty.      

Some of the narrative is a near parallel story to TOM AT THE FARM, where a stranger shows up to visit a family mourning the loss of a son, where the stranger is the ex-lover of the deceased, but his family has been led to believe he had a girlfriend, hiding the fact he was gay.  The viciousness of the homophobic aggressiveness coming from the bullying older brother is utterly savage, showing sociopathic tendencies, where Dolan creates a psychological horror thriller out of being gay, with a feverish anti-gay mindset clouding what is in fact a love story that can’t be told.  Similarly Louis shows up on the doorstep of a family that doesn’t recognize him, that only hears about him, mourning the tragedy of his own loss, yet he can’t speak the words to any of them, as none of them really know him.  Meanwhile he has an older brother Antoine (Vincent Cassel) who totally resents him, both for being gay and for being sophisticated and successful, where he really doesn’t want to hear anything this guy has to say.  When others start sucking up to him, this only sets off his explosive temper, as he can’t stand the phoniness or the attention Louis receives, attacking anyone that tries to open up to him, as if his brother is too important to hear any of this small talk from the provinces, as he’s probably leaving just as quickly as he arrived, where he needs to say what he has to say and then get the hell out and go back to wherever it is in the city that he lives.  Antoine works in a tool shop, with little opportunity to realize his dreams, as he’s too busy going to work every day.  It’s a routine that never ends.  So whenever Louis opens his mouth, Antoine interrupts, claiming he doesn’t want to hear it, as he knows Louis has better things to do.  Antoine lays this attitude on each and everyone else, literally barking at people to stop playing games, then takes offense when people continually tell him to shut up, that he’s ruining the moment.  While the work is abrasive and infuriating, there is a point to all that back and forth bickering, as in the process souls are stripped bare, untold truths are continually exposed, which only matters if viewers have the patience to explore what’s under the surface.  Despite the fireworks, the film is tender to the core, with Dolan creating some magical moments throughout, such as the beaming smile offered by the extraordinarily compassionate Catherine (Marion Cotillard in an utterly haunting performance), Antoine’s mousy and overly timid wife (who’s never met Louis before), an open gesture that welcomes Louis back into his home, but he doesn’t return it, appearing to have more somber things on his mind, which in itself makes a profound statement, wiping that smile right off Catherine’s face, revealing the gravity of the moment which perhaps only she understands.  The dismal tone recalls Ozon’s TIME TO LEAVE (2005), which features an aging Jeanne Moreau, yet it is the youngest character in the film who learns of their fate and is literally a march to death, where the impending threat of doom pervades throughout every frame of that film. 

Nathalie Baye plays the tyrannical mother, the omniscient dictator over the misfits, another Dolan portrait of an overbearing mother, this time dizzyingly artificial, a self-centered diva drowning herself in garish makeup and outlandish costumes (all chosen by Dolan, of course, who also does his own editing and English subtitles), seemingly more at home in a Tennessee Williams play, as lost as Blanche Dubois, yet she’s constantly serving various delights out of the kitchen, as if the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  While Antoine is the battering ram older brother, annihilating everything in his path, Léa Seydoux is Suzanne, the trippy younger sister who idolizes her older brother that she barely knows, while Catherine spends much of time being the gracious host that no one else wants to be, overly polite, constantly apologizing for saying the wrong thing, brashly critiqued by her loud-mouthed husband, though she’s the closest thing to meeting Louis on the same wavelength, tender and mostly quiet, keeping to herself, intuitively adding a touch of introspection to the family.  What’s written into the storyline is just how nervous the family members are, all overly anxious, like walking in bare feet on hot coals, acting so unlike themselves, supposedly, getting ready for the arrival of Louis as the prodigal son returns, making more of the situation, trying to be so exact and precise, not wanting to disappoint, where every word takes on a new significance, with Catherine accidentally calling him sir, which sends her husband off into another tirade, yet that’s what this play is all about, the effect Louis has on everyone, just how uncomfortable he makes them feel, saying things they don’t mean, or talking endlessly about nothing.  The utter superficiality on display is stunning, yet there are moments of plainspoken lucidity where you can cut the tension with a knife, where the words pierce through the armor with deadly accuracy, becoming phenomenally truthful, even hurtful, making Louis shrink back into himself, retreating into silence and resignation, where it’s clear some know exactly who he is (Antoine and his mother), having experienced living with him before, recalling his moods and just how difficult it was, while others are enthralled by his very presence (Catherine and Suzanne).  Dolan mixes flashback sequences into the mix, slo-mo, also pop songs, which are among the strongest scenes of the film, as they’re just as overpowering, balancing overtly forceful scenes with quiet and delicate moments.  Louis himself is an extremely compelling character as viewers know his intentions, and see how easily sidetracked he gets, remaining isolated and fragile, making a quick phone call to his boyfriend before getting worn down by the friction that resides in his own family.  Bathed in an orange light, like a final sunset, the finale may as well be a tribute to uncompromising French director Maurice Pialat, whose presence near the end of À Nos Amours (To Our Loves) (1983) creates unexpected havoc, uprooting standard decorum, instilling a sense of mayhem flying in the face of reason, forcing conventionality out the window, yet creating an intensity level that’s off the charts, as the room spins totally out of control.  

Two Days, One Night (Deux jours, une nuit)

Directors Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne

TWO DAYS, ONE NIGHT    (Deux jours, une nuit)     B               
Belgium France  Italy  (95 mi)  2014  d:  Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne           

An excoriating critique of capitalism, brilliantly revealing how it isolates and divides workers, pitting one against the other, where over the course of the film the Dardennes turn this into a modern era horror story.  What’s most striking, however, is how it’s framed in such ordinary circumstances, where the fear of losing one’s job is the overriding concern, capable of driving one to do the unthinkable.  While the opportunity to work with an actress of the stature of Marion Cotillard may have proven too alluring to resist, the film would probably have played much better with a lesser known, unknown actress, much like their earlier efforts, especially ROSETTA (1999), where the actress’s daily struggle might mirror the role of the character in the film.  Part of Cotillard’s role as Sandra, a young Belgian mother working at a small solar panel factory, is her invisibility, where she is forced to come out of the anonymity of her character to make herself seen as she confronts each and every one of her fellow workers.  When trying to return from a medical leave, she discovers the company has instead decided to lay her off in order to pay the annual 1000 euro bonus to the rest of the workers.  When cornered in a parking lot, the owner agrees to hold a vote by secret ballot to alleviate allegations of pressure and intimidation by the foreman, and if a majority of workers agree to vote for her return instead of their bonuses, then he will honor their decision.  He is of the opinion, however, based on an initial vote tallied by the foreman, that most everyone prefers the bonus.  This leaves her little time, as indicated by the title, to change people’s minds.  While a worker on leave could be confronted by any number of illnesses, such as losing a child, recovery from an injury or an accident, to having a more serious medical diagnosis such a cancer, but in Sandra’s case she suffers from depression (another invisible disease), seen taking large doses of Xanax, well beyond the recommended limit, in an attempt to maintain her sanity throughout this ordeal.  The idea for the film is based upon real incidents occurring in French factories, but also Belgium, Italy, and the United States, where a worker was laid off so the rest of the workers could get their bonuses, all of which raise questions of solidarity in the workforce.   

Shot in Seraing, an industrial town in Liège, in Wallonia, the French-speaking section of Belgium where the Dardennes were born and raised, and where all their previous films were shot as well, Cotillard had to change her French accent to Belgian for the film—no minor undertaking, as she’s the first non-Belgian actor to ever work with the directors.  By all accounts, many believe she was robbed at Cannes by not winning Best Actress, but this is an understated, minimalist, low-key film without any major dramatic moments.  Experts in social realist films, this is most reminiscent of a Bresson film (Introduction to Bresson), a meticulous film constructionist who downplayed the performances of his actors, where this film is based upon a repeating, cyclical theme where Sandra literally goes door to door tracking down her coworkers, asking them to vote to save her position by sacrificing their bonuses.  While this is incredibly humiliating, to say the least, it leaves her emotionally exhausted and demoralized afterwards when she realizes what an uphill struggle this is turning out to be.  Shot in chronological order, most of the scenes are long takes culminating with stressful discussions at someone’s front door, usually interrupting them from their weekend activities with their children, where the situation couldn’t be more awkward, as in an economic downturn, everyone needs the money, with some in desperate straits.  While it’s hard to believe someone is placed in this position, literally begging for their job back, the Dardennes don’t over-dramatize or turn this into a melodrama, confining their focus to exposing what each of these people must be going through, literally providing a window into their souls, as for each, this is a gut-wrenching decision.  People are surprisingly honest with one another, as is Sandra, who is never pushy or argumentative, but simply presents the reality of the situation, then must gracefully accept the fact that not everyone is going to support her, even some who sympathize with her.  In some cases, the husbands aggressively bark out their opinions while their wives (who work with her) meekly stand in silence, unable to alter the balance of power in their homes.   

Beautifully portraying the accumulative stress and mental anguish, Cotillard anchors the film with her warmth and sense of decency, where the urgency of her situation mirrors how other people live and the pressures they face, where in troubled times it’s extremely hard to support her efforts.  Nonetheless it’s a heroic act to summon the courage to embark on such a personally revealing journey, where you literally strip yourself naked standing completely vulnerable before your coworkers, always struggling to overcome feelings of hopelessness and despair.  Perhaps the weakest character in the film is Sandra’s own husband Manu, Fabrizio Rangione in his fifth film with this directing team, whose pathetic struggle to continually push his wife feels overly abusive, though perhaps necessary when she’s incessantly on the verge of giving up.  We don’t see an emotional connection between the two, or any hint of happiness, but their interaction together represents a tired couple that is used to struggling to get through every day.  Perhaps the most beautiful scenes involve music, including Petula Clark singing the French version of the 1963 Jackie DeShannon song “Needles and Pins” Petula Clark - La Nuit N'en Finit Plus - YouTube, while the scene of the film is the euphoric emotional release expressed to the song of Van Morrison and Them singing a teen anthem from the 60’s, “Gloria” THEM (Featuring VAN MORRISON) - LIVE 1965 - "Gloria" YouTube (2:47).  While Sandra is literally terrified at what will happen behind the knock at each door, it’s a petrifying journey set by her boss against her colleagues, where no one protests against the inherent cruelty of the employer’s actions, instead it’s a barbaric act commonly accepted in the modern workplace.  Sandra has a husband and child, perceived as a woman’s dutiful role in the 50’s, but in today’s world she needs a place in society where she can be of use.  Work has come to represent a sense of purpose in people’s lives, even in the routine work of factory jobs, without which many people feel lost and useless, expressed in the film as confronting one’s worst fear, “living on the dole.”  Despite the anger and outright hostility that arises, where the foreman (Dardennes regular Olivier Gourmet) blames her for “stirring up this shit,” this is an unconventional exposé of the meaning of work in people’s lives, where to some their fellow coworkers are an indispensable part of their lives, like one of the family, where they spend eight to ten hours a day alongside each other, while others routinely ignore the social dimension of working with others for a period of years.  In this film, the Dardennes allow the characters to determine the outcome by challenging their humanity, which has greater significance than some predetermined moral lesson that would quickly be forgotten.     

The Immigrant

THE IMMIGRANT          B     
USA  (120 mi)  2013  ‘Scope  d:  James Gray 

What led the American director to this subject matter is open to question, the last big wave of European immigration, which is given the epic, grandiose treatment, co-written by the director himself along with the late Richard Menello, reportedly with Marion Cotillard in mind, where it's the overwrought writing that is the weakest link in this picture.  Gray met the actress over dinner with her husband Guillaume Canet, claiming he had never seen her in anything before, but was instantly drawn to her, “I thought she had a great face, and not just physically beautiful because she is, but a haunted quality, almost like a silent film actress.  I’ve talked about this, but she reminded me of Maria Falconetti in the Carl Theodor Dreyer film THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928), able to convey depth of emotion without dialogue specifically.  I watched every film of hers I could get my hands on.  And then I knew I had to write something for her.  So that’s the genesis of this thing. I wrote the movie for her and Joaquin Phoenix, and if they hadn’t wanted to do the movie, I’m not sure I would have made it.”  Taking a turn from his earlier contemporary work dominated by male characters, Gray gets the idea to craft a historical period drama set in 1912 New York City, including the arrival at Ellis Island, the gateway for millions into America (which shut down shortly afterwards in 1924, allowing only refugees afterwards), where he attempts to recreate the emotional and moral price of the immigrant experience as seen through the eyes of a female protagonist alone in America, separated from her family, where she’s forced to navigate her way through murky waters.  Guided by his own family’s history (it’s their photo in the locket), the movie is largely based on the experiences of the director’s grandparents who were Russian immigrants that came through Ellis Island in 1923, a historical period that saw a large influx of Italian immigrants, as this is the era of Sacco and Vanzetti (2006) and the First Red Scare of 1919-20, when the nation was caught up in a witch hunt hysteria of rampant racism and xenophobia.  In this setting, shot onsite, Marian Cotillard is Ewa Cybulska, seen arriving at Ellis Island with her sister Magda (Angela Sarafyan), Polish immigrants who share a similar dream of making a new life in America.  Things go badly from the start, however, as Magda is instantly pulled out of the line and quarantined with a lung disease (later diagnosed as tuberculosis), leaving Ewa to fend for herself, promising she’ll find her sister, though she is separated as well and placed into a line where she’ll be sent right back to Europe, as written reports from the ship during the crossing suggest she “may be a woman of bad morals.”  Hovering around the proceedings is the strange figure of Bruno Weiss (Joaquin Phoenix), a man who seems to prey on the misfortunes of others, as he notices Ewa in line and bribes an official to admit her into his custody.  The bustling street life, where Gray recreates the crowded streets of the tenement-era Lower East Side in the Bronx, bathed in sepia tones by cinematographer Darius Khondji, recall similar scenes from Francis Ford Coppola’s THE GODFATHER:  PART II (1974).

Bruno brings her back into his home in a largely Jewish neighborhood, where his use of Yiddish commands a certain respect, as people don’t bother him, where we soon learn he runs a small burlesque strip theater that is a front for a whorehouse run by the daunting figure of his boss, Rosie (Elena Solovey).  Immediately the audience gets a sense of his moral manipulation, where he pretends to treat her kindly and with respect while forcing her into the compromising position of having no other choice.  Bruno’s method of bribery is the only hope to get Magda (confined to the hospital) released, but that requires a large sum of money, while Ewa remains penniless.  Cast as the Statue of Liberty in his Prohibition era theater, she is the subject of whistles and catcalls, becoming one of his most popular acts, even as she’s seen recoiling at being touched, where her initiation into the business is particularly degrading, where Cotillard plays the part with excessive fragility and innocence, reminiscent of Björk’s overwrought performance in Lars von Trier’s DANCER IN THE DARK (2000), both forced into insufferable misery, where economic circumstances lead them into the depths of human depravity and despair.  If there is anything particularly troubling about this picture, it is this incessant tone of torment and suffering, where the entire film is cast in a cloud of neverending gloom, where most of it feels like a funeral dirge.  Lacking the lyrical poeticism of Bresson’s Mouchette (1967), one of his bleakest films, Gray elevates the suffering of unappreciated and misunderstood women, using the classic Hollywood-style soap opera treatment of overly manipulative melodramas by Barbara Stanwyck in STELLA DALLAS (1937) or Greta Garbo in CAMILLE (1937), where there’s also an element of Maria Falconetti’s saintly masochism, made worse by the wretchedness of sexual servitude.  Ewa escapes to her aunt and uncle, relieved, as she was told by immigration authorities that their address was invalid, where there is a moment where she can breathe again, only to be turned back over to officials for deportation back to Poland, as her uncle runs a “legitimate business” and refuses to be stained by her “morals” accusations.  While awaiting departure, one of the strangest developments in the entire film is an entertainment sequence for detainees at Ellis Island, which includes no less than Italian tenor Enrico Caruso singing Puccini, and Orlando the Magician (Jeremy Renner) doing a levitation act, both given a near mythical context to reinforce the idea of America as a land of dreams and unimagined opportunities. 

It’s not Orlando, who attempts to befriend her, however, but Bruno who returns to spare Ewa from deportation, again springing a bribe for her release, but only under the pretext that she’ll work for him as a prostitute on a 50/50 basis.  While Orlando promises her hope, it’s Bruno that deals in the harsh aspects of reality, making the necessary connections by exploiting women for money, pitting the two men against one another as rivals in love, which seems overly ridiculous as Ewa can be obtained by any man for a price.  This love triangle is reminiscent of Gelsomina’s fate in Fellini’s LA STRADA (1954) or Mieze in Fassbinder’s BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ (1980), thoroughly mistreated women (prostitutes) who are desperate to find a way out of their economic and emotional strangleholds.  While there’s plenty that feels overbearing and lacks any realistic connection to the audience, where the American dream of freedom is bathed in a baptism of soul crushing suffering, what distinguishes this film is Ewa’s unwavering hold on her own self worth, her continuing devotion to her sister, and her faith in God, where she says in Polish “Nie jestem niczym (I am not nothing),” becoming a prominent theme echoed later in the film.  Even as her lowly position moves from bad to worse, where she is continuously debased by her mortal sins, egged on by Bruno who cheerfully exclaims, “You helped your sister today!” in the end she only ends up thoroughly hating herself.  Easily the most poignant scene of the film takes place in an immense Catholic church where Ewa offers a prayer and a full-blown confession to a priest, confessing her “many, many sins,” where she asks “Is it a sin to want to survive when I have done so many bad things?”  While acknowledging being raped on passage, where people were starving without food or water, her thoughts are heart wrenching as she longs for absolution, yet remains convinced, despite the redemptive power of her faith, that her sins have condemned her to eternal damnation.  While Bruno is a Jewish street kid, reminded of his place by the police who beat him, call him racial slurs, and steal his money, with no illusions about the necessity of hard work, Ewa’s compassionate nature contrasts his seeming indifference, where the film combines the Catholic and Jewish concepts of sin and spiritual salvation, using Ewa’s arduous journey as a life of exile and suffering, where she’s seen as a mythic innocent, despite her sins, recalling the meadows back home in a surprisingly lyrical dream sequence.  It’s Bruno—pimp, ultimate betrayer and manipulator—that delivers an epic notion of self-loathing in a tortuous monologue where he’s so disgusted with himself that he literally “feels” as if he’s already condemned to damnation, yet it’s Ewa who tenderly consoles him, the repugnant man who may have condemned her to the same fate.  In the finale, the two share separate fates, shown in a split-screen image captured in the same shot, where the notion of forgiveness remains an unanswered question, as Ewa’s thoughts of transcendence remain at odds in a coldly indifferent and uncaring world, but one hopes she may yet reach a better place.   

Of Note:  
Enrico Caruso, along with Rudy Vallee, Jimmy Durante, Bob Hope, and Lionel Hampton and his orchestra, among others, all performed at Ellis Island as one of the steps along their world tour that included entertaining U.S. military troops.  Also, Cotillard had to memorize twenty pages of Polish dialogue, while Maja Wampuszyc, who played her nervous aunt in the film, taught the actress how to speak Polish.