When Fall Is Coming (Quand vient l'automne)

 

Director François Ozon

WHEN FALL IS COMING (Quand vient l'automne)                      B                                            France  (104 mi)  2024  d: François Ozon

It’s hard to believe this is an Ozon film, though a cinematic subtlety is on display throughout, with one foot in melodrama and one foot in realism, filmed like a mystery thriller.  Having seen all but one of his nearly two dozen features, making this his 24th feature in the last 24 years, deception is a prevalent theme, where what matters most is what lies below the surface, as earlier assumptions are later shattered, with a shift in tone, suggesting people are not who they appear to be.  There’s really nothing else in his repertoire like this, as it deals with death and aging, offering a reflection on mortality, something he dealt with previously in TIME TO LEAVE (2005), which examined the ramifications of a terminal illness, where life literally slips away from a young gay man, while this may be the only Ozon film, now in his mid-50’s, to star an aging protagonist, though SWIMMING POOL (2003) featured a middle-aged Charlotte Rampling in her 50’s grieving over the loss of her husband.  Retaining his penchant for minimalism, the film this most closely resembles may be Céline Sciamma’s Petite Maman (2021), switching the focus from children to the elderly, as there’s a mystifying ghostly presence of death lurking underneath this film.  At the center of the picture is Michelle (French stage and screen actress and reputable theater director Hélène Vincent, frequently working with Patrice Chereau when she was young), an elderly grandmother who has retired to a quiet existence in a small village in Burgundy near her longtime friend Marie-Claude (Josiane Balasko), having left a tumultuous life in Paris.  Both appear in Ozon’s By the Grace of God (Grâce à Dieu) (2019), while Vincent appeared in Alain Berliner’s My Life in Pink (Ma Vie en Rose) (1997) as well as Kieślowski’s THREE COLORS: BLUE (1993), and made her first movie in 1969.  One of the things driving the film is how easily older people are forgotten in today’s society, rarely appearing onscreen, with Ozon intentionally choosing actresses in their 70’s and 80’s to be at the heart of the picture, offering an intimate portrait of mature independent women in a stripped down film anchored in reality, turning into an understated psychological crime drama and a poignant character study.  Michelle’s life is uncomplicated, attending services at her local parrish, taking long walks in the woods, driving her friend around, tending to an overgrown garden, or reading, often seen eating alone, where her days are filled with silence.  One thing that jumps out at you are the impossible-to-miss words “Liberté! Égalité! Sexualité!” chiseled onto the outdoor stone structure of a church, which plays a prominent role in this film, where funerals are like the changing cycles of the seasons.  That phrase is the official slogan of the French Republic, enshrined in the Constitution, representing the fundamental values of the French nation, prominently featured in the May 1968 Paris protests, stressing the importance of freedom and equality in the context of sexuality.

Michelle eagerly awaits an upcoming visit from her her adult daughter Valérie (Ludivine Sagnier from SWIMMING POOL, but hasn’t worked with Ozon in decades, appearing earlier in 8 WOMEN in 2002 and WATER DROPS ON BURNING ROCKS in 2000) accompanied by her ten-year old grandson Lucas (Garlan Erlos), with the women picking wild mushrooms in the woods anticipating their visit from Paris.  While Michelle showers affection on a grandson she adores, who obviously loves spending time with his grandmother in the countryside, her narcissistic daughter is another story, as she’s going through a separation from her husband in Dubai, is constantly on her phone, and is emotionally distant right from the outset, showing signs of antagonism towards her mother, completely altering the peaceful dynamic of a countryside retreat.  The hostile demeanor of Valérie isn’t understood right away, as we’re not privy to the root of the problem, but her outspoken animosity suggests this is Ozon’s answer to the ungrateful children in Ozu’s Tokyo Story (Tokyo Monogatari) (1953), where the busy necessities of life, working and raising a family, have unintended consequences, as they tend to leave their own parents behind, no longer viewed as needed anymore, where they are easily discarded as non-essential.  The stark contrast between mother and daughter couldn’t be more apparent, as Michelle is obviously a generous and kind-hearted woman, while her self-absorbed daughter thinks of little other than herself, brazenly demanding that her mother immediately transfer the deed of her Burgundy property, as it’s in her son’s best interests.  A dumbfounded Michelle reminds her that she already gave her the title to her property in Paris.  Similarly, Marie-Claude’s grown son Vincent (Pierre Lottin), is fresh out of prison, and all we really know about his past is that “he got into some trouble when he was younger.”  The weight of the past is very apparent, but the perspective driving the film is that of the two older friends, as they obviously have regrets about the troubles their children face, yet they’re willing to excuse bad behavior in others while refusing to extend similar grace to themselves, as Marie-Claude’s harsh view of Vincent, who’s had his fair share of failures, contrasts sharply with Michelle’s more forgiving demeanor, yet the onslaught of criticism Michelle faces from her daughter, whose pervasive scorn and bitterness overshadows everything, leaves her reeling in silent anguish, having no answers to combat her heavy resentment.  While it’s clear these women have extremely strained relationships with their adult children, there is less emphasis on the children, who simply aren’t as fully formed characters.  But a terrible accident occurs when Valérie is poisoned from the mushrooms her mother picked earlier that day with Marie-Claude, requiring emergency intervention and a trip to the hospital, where she nearly dies, and couldn’t be more bitter towards her mother afterwards, suspecting she actually tried to kill her.  Right then and there she grabs her son and leaves, with no intentions of ever coming back, leaving Michelle devastated by the tragic turn of events.  Perhaps the most telling point is that Ozon’s own aunt accidentally poisoned the entire family with mushrooms she picked herself, a haunting memory that lingers in the imagination, something one never forgets, while there is a cinematic precedent in Sacha Guitry’s CONFESSIONS OF A CHEAT (1936), listed at #49 on Cahiers du Cinema’s 2008 list of greatest 100 films.

In order to help Vincent get a fresh start and stay out of trouble, Michelle agrees to employ him as her gardener, which is more than she can handle, and he does an excellent job, becoming an invaluable asset and someone she can rely upon.  Marie-Claude is a bit taken aback by Michelle’s growing relationship with her son, and is shocked to learn she’s loaned him money to start a bar, something he’s always wanted to do, but his mother is afraid it will attract the wrong kind of people.  Perhaps trying to fill the void of her missing daughter, this friendship with Vincent feels startling and abrupt, where we never really learn about the mysteries of his past, which remain unspoken, wondering what trouble may erupt at any moment, as he does sneak out at night into a gay cruising area, but we do learn of the dark past that connects Michelle to Marie-Claude, as they were former Belle de Jour prostitutes in Paris with a high-priced clientele, an unorthodox way of earning money to support their children on their own, with no conventional jobs available to women at the time, establishing a connection to Chantal Akerman’s eye-opening and massively influential Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce,1080 Bruxelles (1976).  This revelation may explain why they left Paris and ventured into the countryside, remaining lifelong friends, where one of the first church sermons we hear from a priest concerns Mary Magdalene, the prostitute that Christ blessed, expressing a theme of atonement for the sins of the past.  People easily overlook the lives of older people, as we often forget about the complexities of their own lives, with Michelle remaining a woman of mystery, where even at the end, we’re not really sure of just who she is.  Written by Ozon in collaboration with Philippe Piazzo, shot by Jérôme Alméras, who shot Ozon’s wonderfully inventive In the House (Dans La Maison) (2012), and was one of three cinematographers used in Bertrand Tavernier’s Journey Through French Cinema (Voyage à travers le cinéma français) (2016), while the delicate musical score is written by Evgueni and Sacha Galperine, two brothers who composed the music for Audrey Diwan’s 2023 Top Ten List #10 Happening (L’événement) (2021).  A series of unexpected deaths occurs, with the circumstances clouded in ambiguity, with the director deliberately subverting our expectations by leaving out what actually happened, a device that was also used in Justine Triet’s Anatomy of a Fall (Anatomie d'une chute) (2023), exploring questions of guilt and innocence that viewers must decide for themselves, where a pregnant female police inspector (Sophie Guillemin) suspects a tragic accident may have actually been a murder, with a dark cloud hovering over the bucolic landscape, establishing a kinship with the same elusive questions asked in Alain Guiraudie’s Misericordia (Miséricorde) (2024).  While moral questions are introduced, they remain unanswered, with the film reaching no easy conclusions, where a ghostly presence haunts Michelle, like a physical manifestation of her fears, and a guilt that is troubling her, providing an eerie strangeness to what we witness in the latter stages of one’s life.

By the Stream (Suyoocheon)

 

Writer/director Hong Sang-soo

Kim Min-hee with the director

The director shooting on location

BY THE STREAM (Suyoocheon)     B                                                                                     South Korea  (111 mi)  2024  d: Hong Sang-soo

Are you a commie?                                                                                                                       —Professor Jeong (Cho Yun-hee)

Proving that he’s something of a one-man band, Hong Sang-soo writes, directs, films, edits, produces, and composes the few frames of music for this film, all but confirming that perhaps as much as he is a filmmaker, Hong Sang-soo is also a prolific playwright, creating a cinema that constantly relies on the power of conversation, like variations on similar themes, often linked to each other in near subliminal fashion, becoming theatrical compositions of his own internal expression.  An astonishingly prolific filmmaker, with forty film credits since the late 90’s, his films are largely inaccessible, with no screening or streaming options available to most persons, seemingly existing in their own universe, yet he’s an extremely conscientious artist, working with such regularity, churning out a variety of small-scale chamber dramas that are immediately recognizable, yet despite the similarities, somehow each new film is a revelation, like new chapters of an infinite novel, as he’s exploring territory that no one else working anywhere in the world today is making films about.  Told in a barebones, naturalistic style, ignored by the commercial masses, where you wouldn’t think any of this would matter to an ever-changing world that spits out such grandiose mega-hits designed for the Cineplex, apparently to take our minds off of the cruel realities that exist all around us, yet somehow Hong Sang-soo finds a way to articulate the small details that continue to matter, like opening up cracks in our existence.  For the last four years, Hong has presented two films each year at major film festivals, registering somewhere between comedy and tragedy, exploring themes of infidelity, artistic aspirations, and communication breakdowns, this latest film reunites Hong with actress Kim Min-hee for their fifteenth film together, while this is the eleventh film working with actor Kwon Hae-hyo.  These familiar faces provide a level of comfort in Hong films, like a reunion of old friends, as if we know what to expect, where they provide a sense of reassurance to viewers with their intelligence, curiosity, and emotional restraint.  Hong typically avoids heavy planning and pre-production, scouting locations just a week or so ahead of time, preferring to withhold handing his actors a full script, instead writing the dialogue for each day’s shoot in the morning, allowing his actors only an hour or so before shooting begins, freeing up his actors to make more spontaneous choices in the moment, using an editing process that rarely takes more than a day, where Hong’s directional style relies upon authenticity and observation, accentuated by his use of long single takes, where this film, notable for its autumnal color, may have the shortest end-credits in memory. 

Like all of Hong’s works, the film is stripped of all artifice and is largely character-driven, where the performances are always elevated, as the director is never afraid to examine the small, often overlooked details of daily living, like hidden detours along the way, where he finds a way to delve into the complexities of life through loneliness, isolation, and fleeting connections.  Finding inspiration in nature, the reclusive Jeon-im (Kim Min-hee), an arts professor at Duksung University, a small private women’s college in Seoul, spends her free time on the banks of a local stream of the Han River sketching the changing patterns in her notebook, as she captures the changing colors of a pastoral autumn landscape of a stream running toward a bridge, and then weaves those patterns into tapestries on her loom later, creating larger works of art.  When she’s not creating her own textile art, she’s teaching a small group of performance art students, where the sleepy rhythms of this university campus are rocked by the startling revelations of a budding sex scandal, as a male student director from another university has been accused of an abuse of power by sleeping with three of the seven actors (who all dropped out simultaneously) just ten days before a play is scheduled to be performed at the university’s annual skit contest, leaving them in emergency mode trying to find a replacement director.  Desperate to find a solution, Jeon-im turns to her Uncle Chu Si-eon (Kwon Hae-hyo) to step in, a bookstore owner leading a quiet yet comfortable life by the sea, a man she hasn’t spoken to in ten years, but he was also a widely celebrated stage actor and theater director, hoping he can write a new script and finish directing the project.  Much to her surprise, he accepts the challenge, bringing him into the fold, where he arrives with ideas already in mind, hoping to provide the last-minute saving grace.  Jeon-im’s boss, Professor Jeong (Cho Yun-hee), has been extremely supportive and is largely responsible for securing her position at the university, yet she’s also intrigued by the presence of Chu, as she followed his career on television and in the theater, and has always wondered what happened to him, as he simply disappeared from having any public presence.  As it turns out, Chu’s bookstore is largely an excuse for him to appear busy when, in reality, there are very few customers who frequent the store, so the idea of resuscitating his creative juices is like a needed jolt of adrenaline.  The academic setting is a return to the director’s early films, where he was such a subtle and distinctly original force in the industry, making quiet, low-budget cinema, often featuring the inappropriate actions of brooding, self-absorbed men who tend to drown their sorrows in alcohol, social awkwardness, and meaningless sex, shining a light on human fallibility and the everyday idiosyncrasies of personal relationships.      

While there’s plenty of eating and drinking, always the centerpiece of Hong’s dramas, as these interactions drive the central questions of the film, where pauses for smoking cigarettes overlooking a picturesque stream offer Zen moments of melancholic reflection, perhaps the biggest surprise is Jeong’s infatuation and sudden interest in Chu, which is a startling development, especially as it leads to a romantic affair, with Jeon-im utterly dismayed at watching it blossom before her eyes, discovering her uncle is not the man she believed him to be.  Autobiographical elements are interspersed throughout, with Chu, a stand-in for the director, acknowledging at one point that he’s no longer with his wife of many years, that she finally agreed to a divorce after a decade of separation (Hong’s own wife refuses to divorce him so that he could marry Kim, where the scandalous public revelation of their affair all but killed Kim’s career outside of Hong’s work), and that he hasn’t spoken to his own sister (Jeon-im’s mother) since she accused him of being a “commie,” so this new romance is like a fresh start in life, but it leaves Jeon-im more than a little perplexed at finding herself in such a precarious position, relying upon her uncle not to spoil the good thing she has going at this university.  Making matters worse, she runs into the guy she fired (Ha Seong-guk), only to learn he hasn’t left the university grounds and shows no remorse for his actions, believing he did nothing wrong, but his presence alone is like a stalker in their midst, adding a creepy element that lies under the surface at an otherwise safe haven.  Where it all leads is to an understated dramatic skit that includes the women eating the last of their dwindling ramen supply, vowing to conserve their goods in a nod to socialism, overshadowed by a blaring industrial roar, which is poorly received while also creating some controversy, where this snippet of a live performance is not like anything in Hong’s films that we’ve seen before.  Celebrating with his cast afterwards in a restaurant, apparently fascinated by this youth generation, Chu asks “What kind of person do you want to be?,” turning into a somewhat improvised poetry session performed by the students speaking their inner thoughts, voicing their hopes and fears about the future, which are tinged in sadness, as they’re not particularly optimistic, while remaining very ambiguous about what the skit is actually about, yet the four women (Kang So-yi, Park Han-bit-na-ra, Oh Yoon-soo, and Park Mi-so) are like a Greek chorus standing in unison against an established male patriarchy, as the disgraced director’s actions mirror an incident in Chu’s youth where his shameful treatment of a female student at this same school still haunts him to this day.  We also learn that Chu made some rude comments about a famous actor he worked with that got him blacklisted from the business, and that 40 years ago he staged a radical theater piece at this same university that caused a scandal, perhaps an allusion to Kwon’s offscreen leftist activism ([Feature] An actor turned activist, later in life).  The unspoken theme is that art requires taking risks, potentially alienating one’s audience, as Hong is an artist who has faced his own public condemnation for his extramarital affair with Kim, and is viewed as a fiercely independent, minimalist artist standing outside traditional avenues, where the haiku-like simplicity of his work is something many critics just don’t get.