Golden Years (Nos années folles)

GOLDEN YEARS (Nos années folles)                     C-                                           

France (103 mi) 2017  d:  André Téchiné      

           

Unfortunately, a lifeless period piece that never rises to the occasion, with few insights or revelations, and no emotional connection whatsoever, that never hints at the underlying psychology to explain how events like this actually occurred, supposedly based on real-life experiences, yet the audience remains distanced and far removed from any of the characters, where the story plays out more as utter fiction than reality.  Téchiné has always been a brilliant director of actors, working with some of the best throughout his career, and while that’s not the problem here, the story makes little sense, never remotely becoming believable.  Essentially a story about Paul Grappe, Pierre Deladonchamps from Stranger By the Lake (L'inconnu du lac) (2013), a deserter from the French army during WWI, who goes to extreme lengths to avoid detection, dressing up as a woman, changing his/her identity, which continues even after the war is over, becoming much more intriguing as a woman than he ever was as a man, reinventing himself as Suzanne, a cabaret performer, famous for indulging herself in brothels, where you’d think he’d be immediately exposed as a man, but the film never addresses this issue and pretends like he doesn’t have a penis.  You’d think that would be pretty easy to spot when having sex, not just once in a while, but all the time, where the bordello he frequents is famous for orgies in Paris during the Roaring Twenties, yet no one utters a word.  While the story may be brave for tackling the subject, adapted from a 2011 book by two historians, La Garconne et L’assassin (The Boyish Woman and the Assassin) by Fabrice Virgili and Daniele Voldman, at least as presented in the movie, none of it appears credible, especially during the madness and hysteria surrounding WWI.  Let’s not forget, had Suzanne been outed as an army deserter, he would have been shot by a firing squad for treason, as depicted in the Terence Davies film 2016 Top Ten List #7 Sunset Song or Kubrick’s masterpiece PATHS OF GLORY (1957).       

Moving back and forth in time, using frequent flashbacks, the movie becomes a story within a story that is ostensibly being told as part of a cabaret show directed by Samuel (Michel Fau), a flamboyant theater owner who supposedly discovered Suzanne, with Paul playing the part of himself, while a much younger actress plays his wife Louise.  At least initially they are a young couple who is madly in love, with Louise, Céline Sallette from Bertrand Bonello’s House of Tolerance (L’Apollonide – souvenirs de la maison close) (2011), a dedicated and hardworking seamstress in town, working in a factory with other women, seen sneaking around avoiding her parent’s detection to find moments alone with Paul, though none of it escapes the watchful eye of her adoring grandmother (Virginie Pradal), almost always seen in the corner smoking a pipe.  Eventually the couple marries, but war breaks out, and almost immediately Paul is ordered to the frontlines.  Surrounded by nothing but inhumanity and death in the trenches, Paul blows his index finger off in order to be sent home, but is ordered back to the frontlines again, which is something he simply can’t face.  With the help of a hidden cellar in Louise’s grandmother’s house, Paul hides out in secrecy to avoid detection as the war drags on for years.  Growing bored with himself, Louise, always a pragmatist, comes up with the idea of dressing him up as a woman, which allows him the freedom to finally go outside.  Plucking his eyebrows while providing garters and a dress, applying makeup on his face and a wig on his head, she is amused at her latest creation, immediately having sex afterwards, telling him, “It’s not so bad being a woman.  At least we don’t wage war.”  With that, Paul transforms into Suzanne, curiously strolling through the Bois de Boulogne district, famous for sexual escapades, and walking inside, adopting a new persona, supposedly purging himself of the brutality of war.       

Suzanne embraces this new bisexual lifestyle, charging for her services, becoming ever more comfortable with the nightlife, drinking champagne, dressing in the finest gowns, and constantly being pampered, like she’s at the center of a new universe, suddenly important and significant.  While this causes some degree of marital distress, Louise is the picture of a woman who would do anything to save her marriage.  Occasionally bringing Louise along to these elegant soirée’s, she shies away from the attention, not really comfortable with the orgiastic sex or this liberated version of her husband.  Inexplicably, a shy young war hero, Count Charles de Lauzin, Grégoire Leprince-Ringuet from Christophe Honoré’s LOVE SONGS (2007), falls madly in love with her and wants to swoop her off her feet in extravagant luxury and wealth, but she remains a devoted wife, claiming she loves her husband the way he is, and ducks away.  By this time, however, viewers are hardly sympathetic to Suzanne, who is the picture of indulgence and narcissism, thinking of no one else but herself, and certainly blind to the consequences of being discovered, where, as if to emphasize the couple’s downward spiral, Téchiné introduces (slightly before its time) the Depression era music of Bessie Smith, Bessie Smith (Nobody Knows You When You're Down And Out, 1929 ... YouTube (3:04).  When the war is over, Louise and the other working girls are euphoric, greeting the returning soldiers with dances and kisses on their cheeks.  Suzanne continues to live the same way, not wanting to lose all the attention, forcing his wife to lie about the whereabouts of her husband, as if his absence is a lingering mystery, perhaps killed in the war.  Likely overcompensating, she becomes devoutly patriotic, taking a hard line on deserters, where she’s forced to put on an act while her husband is screwing anyone and everyone in the Bois de Boulogne, coming home drunk nearly every night.  It’s only when amnesty is offered to deserters that Paul finally comes clean, acknowledging his little charade, but in retreating back to a man’s life he becomes bitter and hateful, literally a contemptible person, treating Louise horribly.  So when cabaret impresario Samuel offers to make a theatrical extravaganza based upon his life, Paul jumps at the opportunity to return to his life as Suzanne, indulging once more in the same old habits.  The deterioration of their doomed marriage is a dramatic descent, yet this film couldn’t be more unengaging, one of the major disappointments in Téchiné’s career, arguably his worst effort ever, where in the end, the best thing about the picture is its use of French songs, including the final credit sequence. 

Tomboy

TOMBOY                   B-                   

France  (84 mi)  2011  d:  Céline Sciamma

The French seem to have a fondness for this kind of thing, where esteemed filmmaker Louis Malle made a film where “incest” felt natural in MURMUR OF THE HEART (1971), seen as just an extension of parental affection, but here the idea is to make an audience accept a young 10-year old girl passing as a boy.  While the idea is not at all new, what’s different about this film is that it doesn’t even attempt to delve internally into what motivates the child, but instead portrays a young girl Laure (Zoé Héran) as someone who is more inclined to dress and act as a boy, fitting in easier as one of the boys on the playground where she identifies herself as Mikaël, like her alter ego, which presents few problems other than how to go to the bathroom.  Other than that, she’s simply more comfortable in shorts and loose t-shirts, where she’s easily accepted as one of the gang in her new neighborhood, as she’s obviously moved around quite a lot in her childhood.  She has a younger sister at home, the 6-year old Jeanne (Malonn Lévana), who wears girly dresses and curls and loves being a ballerina, where the two are actually very close, as they are with their adoring parents who couldn’t be more loving or supportive.  This is the French element, where the family unit is near perfect, where the absence of any real problems allows the audience to focus upon this idealized world, where it all feels so charming and politically correct, as the gang is a racially diverse group, where the mood is always bubbly and upbeat, where the music tells you all you need to know, loud, positive, and problem free. 

Laure is on the screen in nearly every shot, looking quite handsome as a boy, where he spends much time preening in mirrors to get the swagger and gestures just right, including how to spit like a boy, where he quickly attracts the attention of another girl, Lisa (Jeanne Disson), probably the tallest of the group, who develops an instant attraction.  Much of the action unfolds in a documentary style, accentuating the feeling of naturalism, especially groups of kids playing together, but the accompanying tone is anything but natural, as the kids are always happy, laughing and giggling, even at home where she always presents herself as Laure, still dressed the same way, the games she plays with her family or her sister are never angry or confrontational.  This is the part of the story that feels forced and contrived, as this idyllic, problem-free world rarely exists at any age, so the viewer feels certain that the bubble of worldly perfection would have to be popped at some point, where the director instead extends this period of living a lie, even showing Mikaël going shirtless on the soccer field, like the other boys, and experiencing his first kiss as a boy.   But it soon becomes clear that once summer is over and kids return back to school, the dream (and playtime) is over.  Since so much of the film is presented simply as children playing, the mood certainly shifts when the games stop.   

The manner in which the director chooses to expose the truth feels quite cruel, where her mother forces Laure to humiliatingly admit she’s a girl to all her friends, including Lisa, once again only superficially examining the surface, as any number of negative psychological reactions are likely, one of which is refusal or bolting out the door, especially if the child truly identifies with being gay and is not interested in kissing boys.  But none of them happen here, instead parental compliance is inevitable, moral law is upheld, and society is apparently saved as the mother instead defines playing the game of being “the boy” as a choice, as if Laure could turn this on or off at will, which is a decidedly anti-gay point of view.  The director intentionally leaves this point hanging on an ambiguous thread, as it is simply not addressed, leaving the future, and any potential connection of tomboys to lesbians, uncertain.  There’s another aspect of this film that feels layered in controversy, which is the prevalent use of humor throughout, where to a large extent people are laughing “at” Mikaël’s dilemma and how she often comically chooses to deal with it, which gives the audience a chance to freely laugh at her instead of evoke sympathy or understanding.  The film is all about curiosity and exploring the idea of wanting to be someone else, where the question of societal prejudice is never raised, which ultimately becomes the issue when one starts changing their gender.  Perhaps the definitive film addressing this issue from a child’s point of view is Alain Berliner’s My Life in Pink (Ma Vie en Rose) (1997), a candy-colored fantasia about a 7-year old boy who is convinced he is a girl, one of the most delightfully convincing efforts that suggests if he’s happier as a crossdresser, who’s to say he’s wrong, showing a great deal of compassion and personal insight into the complex issue of gender confusion, something this film happily skims over. 

The Topp Twins: Untouchable Girls

THE TOPP TWINS:  UNTOUCHABLE GIRLS                     B                     

New Zealand  (84 mi)  2009  d:  Leanne Pooley

There are some times [when] getting people to laugh, the whole crowd, that’s about the most political thing you can do.

—Jools Topp

Can a film be harmed by feeling too harmonious and upbeat?  Apparently not, as with barely an abrasive note to be seen anywhere in this loving portrait of twin sisters Jools and Lynda Topp, performing cowgirls who grew up on a dairy farm outside Auckland, touted as the country music loving, yodeling lesbians, they eventually become cultural institutions in New Zealand.  Their natural inclination for Vaudeville novelty acts as filtered through the Grand Ole Opry makes both of them something of a ham, each developing alter ego, comic side characters, but they couldn’t be more comfortable in front of an audience.  Perhaps the best footage in the entire film is shown early on when they sing on the streets as teenagers with Jools on the guitar busker style, where they are simply an adoring sister act with unstoppable energy and voices that blend marvelously together as one, where it’s hard to tell who sings what part, but as they stare into each others eyes as they sing, they couldn’t be more of a joy to watch.  It’s immediately obvious that they’re quite talented, especially for street musicians.  Realizing early on that they were both gay, with a brother who’s also gay, this was apparently quite natural for the two performers to be upfront and honest about it, never really having to come out of the closet, while it took their parents a little more time to process this surprising revelation. 

As American folk musicians identified with various causes and protest movements in the 60’s, the Topp twins identified with New Zealand’s social change in the 80’s, including the anti-Apartheid movement, the protection of Maori land rights, gay and lesbian civil rights, and the right to keep New Zealand nuclear free, all winning causes that they helped advance.  Even the former Member of Parliament, Fran Wilde, who introduced and passed the 1986 Homosexual Law Reform Act that for the first time decriminalized homosexual behavior in New Zealand, gave credit to the Topps, indicating their wholesome cheerfulness and general likeability offset the charges that gays and lesbians deserved to remain on the fringe of society, where opposition member Norman Jones is seen in the film at a 1985 public meeting calling for gays to “Go back to the sewers where you came from…as far as I’m concerned, you can stay in the gutter,” suggesting further that anyone who would befriend homosexuals was subject to contracting AIDS.  Even the Topps acknowledged that the hate tactics at the time were so out of line that the public was infuriorated by the general tone of hostility.  The Topps, on the other hand, are like the lost Trapp Family singers from THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965) and revel in pastoral hillsides or pastures of healthy cows and horses, where they are at heart fairly mainstream farmgirls who have a special talent for singing and performing.

The twins topped off the decade with their 1989 Gypsy Caravan Tour, where they toured neighboring small towns while traveling in a small caravan on wheels pulled by a tractor, where at night in town halls they were met with swelling crowds, eventually leading to their own TV show where they introduced a variety of home grown characters, including cross-dressers performing comic skits.  While they are an odd choice to be the performers identified with a nation’s identity, their constantly upbeat, good natured humor apparently reflects that indomitable Kiwi spirit.  Their only apparent setback is when Jools develops breast cancer, forced on a heavy regimen of chemotherapy, losing most of her hair and energy for awhile, but never deterred.  There’s a beautiful anecdote about how when she returns home to her farm, the horses all came near her and helped nurse her back to good health by literally breathing life back into her.  Seen onstage years later after a successful recovery, she tells the story of how in her darkest hour she made her sister make one promise, that she’d sing her favorite song “My Pinto Pony and I” every day for the rest of her life.  Now that’s a song introduction guaranteed to bring the house down.  Still amazingly distinctive duet singers after 50 years, mostly the unflappable twins offer nostalgia-tinged music nowadays that has inspired them through the years.  While they’ve toured the world, they’ve never been interested in the limelight or fame, no limos, fancy hotels or major record contracts, preferring instead to remain committed to the authenticity of their natural roots, where they are right at home judging children’s sheep coloring contests at local county fairs.  While never getting introspective or delving that deeply into either sister, leaving out any hint that they were ever harassed, mistreated, or blacklisted, the film itself is more of a good will tour, an extension of home movies and concert footage, holding New Zealand’s box office record for a documentary.