Showing posts with label Rémy Chevrin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rémy Chevrin. Show all posts

Monday, January 1, 2024

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.    

Monday, November 4, 2019

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.