Bonjour Tristesse

Writer/director Durga Chew-Bose

director on the set

director with Lily McInerny and Chloë Sevigny 

novelist Françoise Sagan in Paris, 1955

BONJOUR TRISTESSE                    B                                                                                 France  Canada  Germany  Great Britain  USA  (110 mi)  2024  d: Durga Chew-Bose

This strange new feeling of mine, obsessing me by its sweet languor, is such that I am reluctant to dignify it with the fine, solemn name of ‘sadness.’ It is a feeling so self-indulgent and complete in itself that I am almost ashamed of it, whereas I had always looked upon sadness as being a worthy emotion. Before, I did not know what sadness was, though I knew what it was to be languorous, to have regrets and, more rarely, to feel remorse. Today it is as if I am enfolded in some silken thing, soft and enervating, that sets me apart from others.                                   —Françoise Sagan, opening lines from Bonjour Tristesse, 1954, This strange new feeling of mine, obsessing me by its ... (pdf)

18-year old Françoise Sagan’s once-scandalous 1954 novel is listed at #41 from Le Monde's 100 Books of the Century, a remarkable achievement for a teenager, modeling the 17-year old heroine after herself, a spoiled, free-spirited, and attractive Parisian teenager who has all the luxurious advantages, spending her summers on the French Riviera swimming, sunbathing, collecting seashells, drinking and dancing at nightclubs, hanging out at casinos, and napping, where she lives for sensual pleasure.  The psychological implications remain buried under the surface, revealing a side of herself she never knew existed, playing out like a bad dream.  The heart of Sagan’s text is brutal, a teenager who plays with the lives of adults, a daughter who can’t stand the notion of no longer being the center of her father’s attention, and a cruel insensitivity that disguises itself as logic.  At just 108 pages, written in a spare, yet detailed style, the book caused quite an uproar in a still predominantly Catholic France when it was published because of its amoral yet casual portrayal of free love — a hedonistic man openly living with an unmarried woman, an under-aged teenager who smokes, drinks alcohol, and sleeps with her boyfriend.  Published just a year before Nabokov’s Lolita, both books create quite a vivid impression of a bratty, sassy, pretty, flirty, and thoroughly manipulative teenage girl.  Unlike the author, however, who dived into reading the great classics of Stendahl, Gide, Camus, and Proust as a teenager, taking her pen name of Sagan from the recurring character of The Princesse de Sagan by her favorite author, Proust, this movie version of her teenage self has no such interest, as she couldn’t be bothered by expanding her mind or challenging her wits, as she’s too busy being a layabout under the hot sun, where she literally doesn’t have a care in the world.  That being said, it’s very hard to find audiences that actually care about a character who couldn’t care less about them.  What’s remarkable about cinema is that the intoxicating visual seduction can lure audiences into this dreamworld scenario, beautifully shot by Maximilian Pittner in Cassis, just 30 kilometers from Marseille, with very little camera movement, where the radiant nature of endless sunny days against a deep blue sea reminds viewers of Éric Rohmer, who made a living setting conversation-heavy stories under this exact same scenario, like CLAIRE’S KNEE (1970), PAULINE AT THE BEACH (1983), or A Summer's Tale (Conte d'été) (1996), with characters inevitably encountering some moral dilemma that takes us on an interior journey that balances the sensuous color palette.  Arguably the weakest and most disappointing element is the insipid music soundtrack, which sounds like generic indie-film light, just a step above elevator music, with the exception of The Roches’ Come Softly to Me YouTube (3:02), which appeared in Joan Micklin Silver’s CROSSING DELANCEY (1988), an updated cover version of the Fleetwoods song that beautifully blends the past into the present.  Montreal-based culture critic and feminist writer-director Durga Chew-Bose has made a lusciously beautiful remake of the 1958 Otto Preminger film by the same title steeped in operatic melodrama, now updated to contemporary times through an understated, minimalist lens, but with mixed results, as she attempts to accentuate the complexity of the relationships between the women, capturing how they observe and influence one another in subtle, often unspoken ways, and how they wield influence over one another’s fates, creating a storyline revolving around underlying motives, existential dilemmas, and the hedonism of the privileged French bourgeoisie, reflective of Sagan’s own upbringing and background.  This film explores jealousy, love, and breaking trust in spectacular fashion, intentionally eliminating the voiceover narration so prominent in the Preminger version, instead letting the camera discreetly observe, relying upon the performances to convey emotion, where the heaviness of silence hangs in the air like low-lying fog, while the surrounding luxury can choke off any possibility for growth, as the shallow, indulgent lifestyle shields characters from adult reality.   

The rich emotional density of this film resembles Paolo Sorrentino’s Parthenope (2024), where the opulent grandeur of the sumptuous imagery is most pronounced, both set against the idyllic backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea, seemingly inspired by the fleetingness of beauty and youth, where the sensuality on display is nothing less than stunning, where the striking look of the film supersedes the thin character development that only hints at something deeper.  With an updated screenplay adapted by Chew-Bose, writing a coming-of-age story with a jagged center, set in the sun-drenched south of France locale that is perfectly rendered, where you can literally feel the sun against your skin, at the center of the picture is Cécile (Lily McInerny), an American college student studying in Paris, a spirited young girl navigating the complexities of adolescence along with her charming but indulgent widowed father, Raymond, played by Danish actor Claes Bang, the selfish lady-killing womanizer in Ruben Östlund’s The Square (2017), and before that a one-night stand in Pernille Fischer Christensen’s A Soap (En Soap) (2006).  Cécile is a liberated female character that is youthful and disillusioned beneath a veneer of sophistication and wit, driven by self-destructive attitudes and behaviors as she navigates the complexities of love, sex, apathy, and existential angst without moral judgment in the treacherous world of languorous ennui.  Jean Seberg’s character in Godard’s iconic Breathless (À Bout de Souffle) (1960) is a continuation of her amoral role in Preminger’s earlier version of Cécile, but in this film, she is less the heartless manipulator of Preminger’s adaptation and more of a conflicted teenager, where there’s a difference between a potential sociopath and just a confused girl.  The pair are enjoying a carefree summer together, reveling in the warmth of the Mediterranean sun, while sharing their experience with Raymond's latest romantic interest, the captivating but much younger professional dancer Elsa (Naïlia Harzoune), closer in age to Cécile, who splits her time with them in a bohemian, gender-inverted JULES AND JIM (1962) scenario and her boyfriend Cyril (Aliocha Schneider).  What immediately stands out is the sound of Raymond’s voice, as it sounds so similar to the smarmy voice of LOLITA’s James Mason, so morally smug and egotistical, evoking the meditative calmness of a relaxation tape with every self-righteous word, where it’s just hard to root for a guy like this, as his philandering lifestyle is the epitome of wealth and privilege, apparently squandering his life in decadence, moving from one lover to the next, setting a questionable example for his daughter.  However, it’s important to note that beneath the shallow surface of pseudo-profound dialogues lies a subtle degree of sophisticated depth and complexity, as we witness a young woman’s journey into self-definition through her psychological development, but it’s not as plain to see as the stunning beauty of the French Riviera where the film is shot, instead the film highlights the conflict between Cécile’s quest for personal freedom and the emotional impact of her actions on others.  Also, the title, which comes from the opening lines of a Paul Èluard poem published in 1932 (Barely Disfigured by Paul Eluard - Famous poems), translates to Hello Sadness, suggesting an exploration of the opposite of happiness, so the stunning beauty of the Côte d’Azur can be deceiving.  Seemingly living in a world of bliss, where everything feels so right, Raymond alters the balance by inviting an old friend, a celebrated American-born, Paris-based fashion designer Anne (Chloë Sevigny, an inspired choice, given an expanded presence, seen recently in a Charli xcx - 360 (official video) YouTube, 4:24), a godmother to Cécile and best friend of her deceased mother, where the three of them once went everywhere together, the living picture of their own carefree youth decades ago.

Anne’s arrival upsets the perfect symmetry of Cécile’s summer, happily leading a carefree existence, doing whatever she pleases at any given moment, but the more thoughtfully reserved and calculating Anne always has a watchful eye on her, coming from a more serious world where things have consequences, assuming a more firmly grounded parental role that Cécile simply doesn’t appreciate, immediately growing resentful, perceiving her as a threat to her freedom, plunging Cécile into jealousy, admiration, and uncertainty, forcing her to grapple with her own identity.  Unlike Cécile and her father, Anne’s character brings a certain gravitas, coming from a high-profile world of creating art where she had no time for relationships, a life defined by hard work, intelligence, and a well-organized outlook, and though she’s chic, sophisticated, and refined, sharing her fashion sense with Cécile, she is considerably less free-spirited than the original trio, which is why they are all flabbergasted when Raymond announces they are engaged to be married, causing Elsa to flee while leaving Cécile furiously incensed.  Raymond and Anne seem happy and in love, though it all sounds a bit soap opera-ish, with Cécile craving her father’s undivided attention, as she resists conformity and order but longs for the certainty of emotional stability, wanting to be seen as a person in her own right making her own decisions, but is frightened to relinquish her dependency, secretly devising a plan to break up the marriage, relying upon deception and devious motives.  Despite the south of France setting, there’s very little French dialogue, with the characters speaking English most of the time, which feels like an abrupt shock, as if something isn’t quite right, while Anne also transforms Raymond’s behavior into something more conventional, no longer the rich playboy succumbing to his libertine desires, avoiding that “easy life” to which he has been accustomed to for so many years.  Apparently stealing away that free-spirited side of her father that Cécile loves so much feels like the ultimate betrayal, where it all plays out under the surface with a few added twists and surprises.  Perhaps it’s the feeling like American actress Lily McInerny is in over her head, as she never has the same dramatic screen presence as the others, feeling more shallow and immature, like she’s just a kid.  The melodramatic dovetail the film takes isn’t exactly a shocker, as she intervenes tragically in a love triangle involving her father, which is carefully planned ahead of time and stealthily executed, but jolts her into a new reality of dangerously unexpected surprises, and only afterwards realizes she’s taken things much too far, with Anne never realizing she was the target of a malicious scheme, but it’s now too late to do anything about it.  A special bond undeniably exists between a father and daughter, yet how unfortunate that the only love she knew at the time was “possessive” love, wanting to possess the unrivaled love of her father who barely even knew the meaning of the word himself.  The fear of having to share that love with his fiancée, Anne, a woman who is a much more controlling presence, leads to disastrous results, succumbing to an Iago-like game of cruel deception, never fully understanding the damage she is causing until it is too late, leaving her disgusted with herself for her own dishonesty, eventually filled with self-loathing, which brings an end to her carefree life, resulting in a permanent and more haunting sense of sadness.  While the central relationship appears to be between Cécile and Raymond, there’s a curious lack of interest in Raymond’s role in all this, where his irresponsible behavior is never scrutinized and instead viewed as predictable male carousing, yet in this version a deeper truth emerges between Cécile and Anne, offering a belated awareness of Anne’s idea of building a new family.  Tinged with melancholy and regret afterwards, this captures the rebelliousness and naiveté of youth, revealing a world where fantasy and tragedy are interlinked. 

What Marielle Knows (Was Marielle weiß)

 

Director Frédéric Hambalek

actress Laeni Geiseler

WHAT MARIELLE KNOWS (Was Marielle weiß)             B-                                       Germany  (86 mi)  2025  d: Frédéric Hambalek

The premise behind the film is a good one, using the gift of telekinetic powers to expose just how much of our carefully calculated self-image depends upon a foundation of lies, questioning just what happens when that protective illusion suddenly collapses, balancing perception with self-deception, but the execution leaves something to be desired, never rising to a level of excitement, where you can’t help but think another filmmaker would have been more risqué and brought so much more out of this, with the ending feeling like something of a letdown.  Better films on telekinetic powers would be Brian De Palma’s The Fury (1978) or Joachim Trier’s 2017 Top Ten List #4 Thelma, yet this film relies upon the very ordinariness of it, becoming all too banal and downright disinteresting, falling short of its possibilities, which is very hard to do, as the subject itself is so fascinating.  Described by BFI Sight and Sound (Eight under-the-radar LFF films | Sight and Sound) as “The most uproarious German comedy since 2017 Top Ten List #2 Toni Erdmann (2016),” but nothing could be further from the truth.  Despite some absurdities, and an over-the-top chamber score from Beethoven and Schubert string quartets that only heighten the hysteria, the film is a flat-out exposé on middle class hypocrisy, from a family that on the surface of things has everything, where seemingly open-minded parents pretend to be educated and honest, but the reality is something altogether different, which is confusing enough for a 12-year old child just entering puberty, on the verge of forming her own identity, especially after she mysteriously develops telekinetic powers and is able to see and hear everything her parents do and say.  Initially refusing to believe her, suspecting she’s somehow spying on them, yet her recall is so accurate and precise that it’s hard not to believe, completely altering their behavior, forced into hiding all their hidden secrets, turning their lives upside down, pretending nothing is out of the ordinary as the parents feebly struggle to put on a fake front, knowing they are always under observation and every word is being listened to, but the result couldn’t be more inexcusably pathetic, as there’s little left of their bourgeois ideals, ineptly becoming exactly the kind of people they never wanted to be.  A family drama passing as a surveillance story, exposing deeply hidden insecurities and a marriage founded on lies and deception, but the real tragedy is the story is told almost entirely from the parents’ point of view, with a focus on how they deal with this new revelation, and the poor girl gets left behind to fend for herself, with no support system in place, as she is never actually taken seriously, instead believing she is playing some kind of sick joke.  The film is surprisingly inert, more of an existential dilemma, their lives suddenly on hold, as if waiting to figure out how to deal with this strange phenomena, but that time never comes, as they’re simply not equipped to tell the truth the whole time, as everyone has precious secrets that no one else sees, somehow delving into the uncomfortable realms of Ruben Östlund in Force Majeure (Turist) (2014). 

Premiering at the Berlin Film Festival, it sounds like an edgy subject matter, but the director never finds the key to unlocking the film’s precious secrets, failing to utilize a bolder aesthetic, feeling more like something conventionally made for television.  Described as a comedy, it’s not really, though there are a few comedic moments, mostly it’s a mammoth tragedy, as the girl is so completely isolated and left all alone, where even her parents doubt her and are not what you’d call helpful, as they double down on their own egotistic superiority, unable to really engage with their daughter, instead they view her with suspicion and distrust, quickly dragging her to a doctor, with no results, only fanning the flames of family dysfunction.  As the film is well acted, ultimately the problem is with the writing, as the lives of the parents are suddenly exposed and openly transparent, confused that their everyday lives are completely disrupted, always on watch, but little is known about the girl, who remains a mystery, mostly kept out of sight, and is never seen at school, knowing next to nothing about her life, playing a youthful heroine who never laughs, while avoiding the idea of becoming a coming-of-age film.  That’s a problem, as she’s clearly the most intriguing character, where your heart goes out to her, as her easily perplexed parents haven’t a clue how to help or support her, instead they’re all about covering their own tracks.  What this says about constructing our own sense of identity is revealing, suggesting our view of ourselves is lined with lies and inaccuracies, offering a buffer to the hard realities we often choose to ignore.  Marielle (Laeni Geiseler, reminiscent of the eerie children in the films of Michael Haneke) has an unexplained gift that comes out of nowhere, suddenly her everyday reality after a brief spat results in her best friend slapping her in the face, suddenly discovering she is telepathic, yet she never abuses this gift, which feels more like a curse to her, as the adult world of her parents is suddenly exposed, her mother Julia (Julia Jentsch, from Hermine Huntgeburth’s EFFI BRIEST, 2009) and her father Tobias (Felix Kramer), as their immediate reaction is to self-servingly protect themselves rather than help understand or lovingly comfort her.  That leaves her trying to fend for herself in an adult world that is beyond her comprehension, filled with cover ups and despicable behavior that she never knew existed, completely dumbfounded that her parents are less than forthcoming with her.  What happens when suddenly your privacy is removed?  When the most unpleasant secrets of Julia and Tobias are embarrassingly revealed, they embark on a manipulative game that increasingly leads to more absurd situations, evoking unexpected consequences, where their comfortable middle class lives are not what they appear to be, making you question their seemingly harmonious family life.  Unfortunately, Hambalek’s film doesn’t stand up to Fassbinder’s more savagely brutal yet elegantly stylish family exposé Chinese Roulette (Chinesisches Roulette) (1976), or Roman Polanski’s emotionally devastating chamber drama, Carnage (2011), but does recall the 60’s horror sci-fi classic VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED (1960), or those deceptively uncomfortable human conversations trying to outwit the technologically superior but malfunctioning computer Hal in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968).   

A satire of bourgeois family life with all its secrets and lies, it starts, appropriately enough, with Julia having a healthy flirtation, engaging in verbal sex fantasies during a smoking break before entering into a scandalous affair with one of her married coworkers, Max (Mehmet Ateşçi), while at the same time Tobias is humiliated at his job designing book covers for a publishing house, where his planned cover design for a new novel is ridiculed and scorned as pretentious by his colleagues, particularly his younger competitor Sören (Moritz Treuenfels), who completely undermines his authority, leaving him struggling to regain his composure, having difficulties being recognized as the group leader.  In both of their minds, they have done nothing wrong and simply embellished the truth, rationalizing every little aspect of their own behavior while advocating for a version of themselves that is significantly better than who they really are.  But for Marielle, she sees things a little differently, suddenly seeing through the built-in defense mechanisms of her parent’s private and protected lives, yet when she asks them about it, they quickly deny any wrongdoing, instead reiterating meaningless platitudes that conceals what actually happened, continually presenting themselves in the best possible light, causing confusion in her young life, knowing her parents are lying, but she doesn’t know what to make of it, only adding to the confusion of her young life.  By repeating to them what she actually hears, reciting conversations verbatim, they are immediately shocked into altering their behavior, as if they are continuously on camera, with someone always watching them and seeing them in real time.  This shift in parental behavior exposes their own hypocrisies, but their initial reaction is to protect themselves, suddenly speaking French to avoid detection, never giving a thought about how this is affecting their young and impressionable daughter, whose life is spinning out of control, as what she’s been led to believe is exposed as a sham, where her parents are not who and what she was led to believe, suddenly much more fallible.  Finding herself in the precarious position of being the adult in the room, the only one speaking openly and honestly, literally hiding nothing, while her parents seem to be leading double lives, the ones they are actually living, and a fabricated version they want her to believe.  The film ends up being somewhat middle-of-the-road and inoffensive, matching the conventional mindset of the father, where much of this feels like characters walking on eggshells, as if there are potentially explosive landmines everywhere they step, accentuating all the things we say that we would not want others to hear.  The choice to focus on the more unimaginative and far less interesting parents leaves Marielle out of sight for most of the picture, mirroring what the mostly befuddled parents are experiencing, but this decision lessens the dramatic impact, feeling overly predictable, where it’s less about the supernatural ability itself and more about its impact on the family, but this leaves out of the picture the one character who is far and away the most interesting person in the room.