Anaïs in Love (Les amours d'Anaïs)

 

Writer/director Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet

The director with Anaïs Demoustier

Anaïs Demoustier on the set

ANAÏS IN LOVE (Les amours d'Anaïs)       B-                                                                           France  (98 mi)  2021  d: Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet

Love is in the air and spring flowers are in bloom, where this whirlwind drama is about a rush of excitement, where every last breath is a cause célèbre, rushing about with no rhyme or reason, but rushing anyway, because it’s all about the restlessness of youth, racing headfirst into the future, where everything that’s come before is doubted and questioned in this manic search for finding something new.  A frenetic, adrenaline-based comic drama that thrives on a kind of 30’s screwball comedy style, heavily infused with romanticism, leading to a lesbian love affair where everything else is set to the side, as living in that moment, living life to the fullest, is all that matters.  Centered around one central character, Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet has written her first feature as a kind of formulaic love-on-the-run reverie, almost a parody of French films, somewhat inspired by rewatching Truffaut’s Stolen Kisses (Baisers volés) (1968), specifically the awkwardness of Jean-Pierre Léaud’s youthful transgressions, and Claude Sautet’s romantic ménage-à-trois in César and Rosalie (César et Rosalie) (1972), becoming a tribute to Anaïs, played by Anaïs Demoustier, who also starred in her short film PAULINE ASSERVIE (2018), which serves as the genesis of her role as a young idealistic student in pursuit of something she has yet to define.  Nonetheless she’s running furiously towards an unknown future that awaits only her, as no one else matters, hurtling through lovers with a reckless abandon, leaving them breathlessly wondering what just happened, becoming a life filled with romantic expectations that are never met, never stopping to comprehend, as only the next moment can possibly bring her the happiness she so desperately seeks.  Reason be damned, as nothing in this has to make sense, as there are no consequences for her erratic decisions, instead it’s all about the swirl of possibilities, where being young, free-spirited, and impulsive is like a titillating tease, where exploring every awaiting moment with that mad rush of anticipation becomes the be-all and end-all for this film, bearing some resemblance to the anxiously neurotic, compulsively indecisive Greta Gerwig character in Noah Baumbach’s Frances Ha (2012), or the rhythmical whimsy of the adorably likeable Audrey Tatou in AMÉLIE (2001), while Sally Hawkins also comes to mind in Mike Leigh’s Happy-Go-Lucky (2008).  What these films share is not just a female protagonist, but the curiosity their characters express, where it’s a significant shift in focus to see women exploring their own desires rather than be the object of male desire.  Obviously not for everyone, as some will be completely disgusted by the utterly selfish, self-obsessed, and manipulative behavior on display, resembling the same infantile antics of the heavily praised Jean-Pierre Léaud, yet illustrative of the narcissism of today’s privileged white elite, but there’s no moralizing in this film, as Anaïs casually disregards everyone with equal disdain, thinking only of herself at all times, lost in a self-induced cloud of confusion that’s really just a smokescreen for avoiding the banality of existence, where at the core of this comedy is an existential farce about life’s possibilities.  After all, what are Vladimir and Estragon waiting for in Beckett’s Waiting for Godot?  And does it really matter, as the space they fill becomes a dramatically compelling theater-of-the-absurd that lends itself to a philosophical dawning of a new age, as something is always waiting around the next corner.     

Featuring faces we have seen before, Anaïs Demoustier from François Ozon’s The New Girlfriend (Une nouvelle amie) (2014), initially discovered by Michael Haneke in Time of the Wolf (Le Temps du Loup) (2003), Denis Podalydès from Christophe Honoré’s Sorry Angel (Plaire, aimer et courir vite) (2018), though he’s part of the explosive fireworks in Arnaud Desplechin’s dialogue-driven MY SEX LIFE…OR HOW I GOT INTO AN ARGUMENT (1996), and Valeria Bruni Tedeschi from Bruno Dumont’s Slack Bay (Ma Loute) (2016) and François Ozon’s Summer of '85 (Été 85) (2020), though she was a powerhouse in Noémie Lvovsky’s stormy relationship drama, FORGET ME (Oublie-moi) (1994), each one filling the screen with a kind of fairy tale story that explores what love can make some people do.  Premiering at Critics’ Week at Cannes in 2021, the American release came a year later without much fanfare, viewed as that typically French bourgeois drama that fits every cliché, but has a way of effortlessly displaying that effusive French charm, turning into a breezy comedy that subverts mainstream expectations by veering into lesbian exotica.  Opening with a breathless blur set to the racing piano of Nicola Piovani’s score, Bourgeois-Tacquet sets the tone with a feverish set-up that continually races against time, resembling the frenzied energy of Tom Tykwer’s Run Lola Run (Lolo Rennt) (1998), as Anaïs is a woman in a hurry, running everywhere, is habitually late, and offers excuses in exasperatingly sped-up, mile-a-minute outbursts,  ANAÏS IN LOVE - "Being in a couple is too hard" YouTube (2:47), echoing the White Rabbit’s frantic utterance from Disney’s ALICE IN WONDERLAND (1951), Alice in Wonderland - I'm late - YouTube (42 seconds), where viewers have to recalibrate their conventional sensibilities for the absurdist world that awaits them.  Already in her 30’s, instead of figuring things out by now, her life makes even less sense, caught between having to deal with responsibilities, condescending men, and thankless jobs, so instead celebrates the constant chaos around her with teenage-like carelessness.  She’s a literature student who is never seen studying, blithely avoiding due dates by perpetually putting off her doctoral dissertation, is months behind on her rent, but blames it on a failed relationship where she became bored and kicked out a boyfriend that she was relying upon to pay his share of the rent, now left in limbo suggesting there’s no possible way she can pay it now, where we continually see her avoid adversities before running off to her next adventure, hardly attributes for sustaining any longterm relationship.  Relying upon her youthful charm and beauty while following her impetuous desires is reminiscent of those endearing Éric Rohmer comedies of the 80’s and 90’s, especially the literary references and the sophisticated yet scatterbrained dialogue spoken at breakneck speed.  When her mother (Anne Canovas) encourages her to take a job at a publishing company to meet interesting people, Anaïs brazenly responds, “I don’t want to meet interesting people.  I want to be interesting.”  Whether or not you think she succeeds may depend upon your tolerance for this kind of excessive display of self-absorbed narcissism, where it’s kind of like watching a kid in a candy store bouncing off the walls in a sugar rush.

There is a surprising change of tone when her mother, who she adores, announces her cancer that had been in remission for years has returned with ominous implications, sending Anaïs into a dizzying headspin, this time running to the nearest beach for a swim (we should all be so lucky), yet the choice of accompanying music is such an overly dramatic turn, perhaps the most operatic song associated with death, that it feels comical in its brazenly melodramatic overreach, Anaïs in Love (2021) - the scene with Purcell's Dido's Lament YouTube (2:10).  The choice of locations in this film is stunning, however, mixing the sun and the sea alongside the Côtes-d’Armor and Pays de la Loire coastlines, literally exuding in radiant summer color, immaculately shot by Noé Bach, accentuating the luminosity of the naturalistic settings, not so much the darkened interiors that feel more cramped and claustrophobic, with suggestions of a darker turn of fate that never really happens.  After breezily dumping her boyfriend Raoul (Christophe Montenez) on the street, who describes her as a social bulldozer, exhibiting no tact whatsoever, literally plowing over people, she moves on to Daniel (Denis Podalydès) an older, middle-aged book publisher that she meets at a party, having a brief fling, but she’s struck by a picture of his wife Emilie (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi), seen only from behind, exactly like Céline Sciamma’s erotic lesbian drama, 2019 Top Ten List #2 Portrait of a Lady On Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu), yet also Hitchcock’s Rebecca (1940), or Preminger’s Laura (1944).  The more she hears the more she likes, as time suddenly slows down, enamored by the lipstick and perfume she finds placed around the bathroom sink, discovering she’s a novelist, mirroring her own interests, dropping Daniel in a heartbeat and making a beeline to a literary symposium at the prestigious Château de Kerduel, a picturesque Brittany setting on a lake surrounded by a forest, where she finds some excuse to meet her, ANAÏS IN LOVE - "You're very beautiful" YouTube (1:49) before joining her later in an erotic dance, Gli amori di Anaïs - Clip "Gli occhi di Bette Davis" - YouTube (1:37).  Making it a habit to run into her, at the expense of her own studies, her mother’s illness, or paying the rent, accidentally on purpose sitting next to her in a movie screening, where there’s a delightful movie-within-a-movie moment seeing the wondrous Gena Rowlands onscreen in Cassavetes’ Opening Night (1977), lost in her own zany quest for self-discovery, before inviting her the next day for a swim on the beach.  Wandering through a stunningly gorgeous coastline to get there, ANAIS IN LOVE - Closer by the Coast YouTube (2:16), breasts are exposed and kisses lead to inflamed passions on the beach, ANAIS IN LOVE - "I Want to Kiss You" YouTube (1:53), a significantly different female stylization than Kechiche’s male-driven Blue Is the Warmest Color (La Vie d'Adèle, Chapitres 1 et 2) (2013), resembling some wildly erotic romance novel (lewd drawings are discovered in a hidden closet) where an older and younger woman awaken long-repressed desires, a supposed pathway to a personal road to freedom and discovery.  In this breezy and lighthearted mix of the male and female gaze, sex is only for the beautiful, as Anaïs gleefully follows her instincts and steamrolls her way into the future.

Slack Bay (Ma Loute)

SLACK BAY (Ma Loute)                  C+                  

France  Germany  (122 mi)  2016  ‘Scope  d:  Bruno Dumont

This is a film that will scramble your brains, leaving nothing but mush afterwards, a surreal remix of L'il Quinquin (P'tit Quinquin) – Made for TV (2015), where again people mysteriously disappear in a small seaside village on the coast of Northern France, while the befuddled and constantly inept police inspectors on the scene make no progress whatsoever in solving the crimes, yet this version is more over-the-top, as everything’s done to such horrific excess that bad taste is essentially the theme of the film.  Ironic, then, that what is arguably the worst film in the Dumont repertoire will have the most commercial success, as theaters, for no apparent reason, are willing to book this film as an outlandish, cutting edge comedy, and people are flocking to the theaters in droves.  Is there no accounting for bad taste?  Perhaps this, in itself, is a comment on the current state of arthouse cinema, where Dumont in the past was a Bressonian disciple, one of the most ardent masters of bleak and austere dramas, yet then somehow in mid-career he completely altered his style, as he now makes proletariat comedies, as if they are an essential component to modern life, using escapism as an alternative to the brutally harsh realities of his earlier films, like Flandres (2006), 2010 Top Ten Films of the Year: #5 Hadewijch, and Hors Satan (2011).  Dumont was known for his use of non-professional actors, but all that changed with Camille Claudel 1915 (2013), where actress Juliette Binoche’s understated performance was the centerpiece of the film, a punishingly uncomfortable historical drama.  You’d never know this is the same actress in this new film that features a collection of highly recognizable French actors, none more pretentiously overwrought than the forever swooning, high-pitched histrionics of Binoche, just one of the lunatics in the asylum of this exaggerated comic farce, an apparent revival of sorts to Buñuel’s THE DISCREET CHARM OF THE BOURGEOISIE (1972), a scathing attack on the hypocrisy of the middle class.  Honestly, this film, as written, may have been better served by the minimalist experimental filmmaker Guy Maddin, whose silent era homage and subversive humor is more in line with the ridiculous aspect of the material, where actors aren’t nearly as accentuated as the surrealist production values. 

As is, the film is like an experiment gone wrong in a highbrow acting class, pushing actors well beyond the comfort zone, each making contact with the grotesque in bizarre and wildly grandiose performances, where each one has some sort of noticeable physical impairment or deformity that is played for effect, where humans become caricatures instead of real, as if playing in front of mirrors in order to amuse themselves for heightened pleasure.  Viewers may find this kind of shtick overly ridiculous, especially since it continues throughout the entire film, growing tiresome after a while, lacking the subversive wit of Monty Python style comedians who do this kind of thing for a living.  The French title, by the way, also the name of one of the lead characters, loosely translates to “my dick,” used to great effect in several of the overly raucous group scenes, causing near mayhem, but never resorting to pie-throwing incidents.  Set in the summer of 1910, the film is a comedy of manners, a satiric dissection of class structure, with the poorer class living along the seashore, having to collect oysters in the bay and scavenge for what the sea has brought in at low tide, led by a rugged seaman known as “The Eternal” (Thierry Lavieville), whose Keatenesque face is filled with world weary crevices, the patriarch of the Bréfort family that includes his hardened wife (Caroline Carbonnier), usually seen with a butcher’s knife in her hand, as she carves and cooks human flesh for her family, taking tourists out on boat rides and knocking them unconscious with the boat oars before serving them for dinner, also 18-year old Ma Loute (Brandon Lavieville), a seaman following in his father’s footsteps, recognizable by his gigantic ears, and three young ruffian brothers that seem to fight all the time.  Living high atop the hill overlooking the bay is the aristocratic Peteghem family, never seen doing a bit of work, with servants to prepare everything for them, including the overly anxious matriarch Isabelle (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, sister of the former First Lady Carla Bruni), her nitwit husband André (Fabrice Luchini), who walks hunched over with a cane speaking utter nonsense, but smiling to everyone, as if in post-lobotomy mode, the wayward brother Christian (Jean-Luc Vincent), who seems demented, all supposedly creatures of a degenerate family history of incest and inbreeding that has wreaked havoc with their brains and genetic make up, with two near identical daughters in braids that are always dressed alike and never speak, but just make faces all the time.  Visiting her sister is the elegant and always glamorous Aude (Juliette Binoche), wearing a feathered boa and a shamelessly ostentatious, flowered hat, bringing along with her a young androgynous daughter Billie (Raph) with transgender tendencies, though she may simply be a punkish cross-dresser who enjoys altering her sexual identity.  

Like a variation of the Montague’s and the Capulets, Ma Loute and Billie are romantically inclined from the first moment they lay eyes on each other, where their rhapsodic moments together require no words, just rapturous expressions on their faces, causing extreme consternation on the faces of their less than amused families, where each reviles the other.  The film is largely a slapstick choreography of human misfortune, where despite the comic overtures, Dumont continues along the same misanthropic path, exposing the worst side of human behavior, where humans are little more than carnivores feeding on one another, reduced to cannibalism to survive.  Deeply separated into a society of the haves and the have nots, the Bréfort family have become human ferries, carrying individuals in their arms, transporting them across the shallows in order to reach the other side, where it seems all but impossible that the haves would actually get their feet wet.  This silly ritual is repeated at least half a dozen times, and is how Ma Loute and Billie met in the first place, as he seemed to take great delight in hoisting her in his arms, while she viewed him as her great protector.  Adding to the comic absurdity is the highly illogical services of the town constable, Machin (Didier Desprès), an oversized gentleman wearing a dark suit and bowler hat, accompanied by a miniature version that follows him around, Malfoy (Cyril Rigaux), a sounding board that allows him to test his dubious theories, a Laurel and Hardy team where the two remain oblivious to what’s happening right under their noses.  With law and order firmly resting in their hands, perhaps it’s no surprise that all hell breaks loose, with the inflated looking Machin actually floating into the sky, with Malfoy keeping him tethered to a rope, or he would simply fly away.  Similarly, there are other levitation sequences, a preposterous and surreal response to the subtle use of this device in earlier Dumont films, like HUMANITÉ (1999), containing a brief, almost overlooked moment that represented a transcendence from earthly matters.   While the cinematography by Guillaume Deffontaines is superb, expressing a gorgeous array of brilliant colors on the northern Pas de Calais coastal region that are only brightened by the sunlight, the storyline is slight, to say the least, seemingly intent on grotesque physical comedy, where going for laughs and guffaws take the place of ideas.  The film is likely to be extremely divisive, in the love or hate category, with the French film magazine Cahiers du cinema naming it the 5th best film of 2016, though the crude humor may alienate many viewers, none more than when Ma Loute realizes he’s been conned, discovering Billie is a boy, where he savagely beats him, holding nothing back, becoming a sick comment on a brutal reality that is all too prevalent in society, as transgenders are often targets of abuse, known as Trans bashing, and to the actor’s credit, this androgynous identity was maintained throughout all Cannes public appearances.  Nonetheless, Billie is the heartbeat of the picture, where the malicious treatment leaves viewers feeling violated, where the lawless, anarchistic tinge of lunacy prevails, like an ill wind sweeping the landscape, supposedly wiping away all sins, yet the residue of moral rot remains.