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Guest
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It was a privilege getting to attend the end of the 09
New York Film Festival and immerse myself in all things
Claire Denis -- _White Material_, an official selection;
_35 Shots of Rum_, which had an extended run at Film
Forum; seeing Denis in person, in a HBO-sponsored
"conversation with the director" session; and even
_L'Intrus_, rewatched on DVD in preparation for the trip.
In person Denis looked young, almost girlish; dressed in
smartly striped black and white, she was skitting around
the room before the session started, and even took
pictures of the audience with a tiny polaroid camera.
Not for her the star entrance and polished performance
of Wong Kar-Wai at last year's _Ashes of Time: Redux_
premiere; she was amazingly ernest, embarrassed by the
adulation of the near capacity crowd (at least 3/4
female), mockingly covered her eyes whenever praised,
and returned the fans' applause at the end. I was
mesmerized by the openness and warmth of this director
whose signature theme is alienation and whose style can
be oblique to the point of intimidating ...
x x x x x x
For a low-key chamber piece, _35 Shots of Rum_ feels
astonishingly complex. It is a rail-bound road movie,
a _Friday Night_-like mood piece, and an Ozu tribute,
Denis' most intimate celebration of family and
relationships. It weighs freedom against connectedness,
ponders about race, immigration, cultures that come
together, stand apart. Above all, it marks her triumphant
reunion with Alex Descas, first among equal in a quartet
of protagonists, in his first major role with the director
since _Trouble Every Day_.
Denis admitted that her films often spring from one strong
image. _35 Shots_ is made up of an embarrassing richness
of those. Recurring views of houses and trees recede
along metro rails, at once familiar and unknowable. At
night high-rises are illuminated from within through so
many windows to the occupants' souls, their untold stories
united only by their common isolation. There are the narrow
hallways and cozy apartment interiors, painted warm brick
red; a white wedding glove so heart-stoppingly pure and
delicate it absolves our angst and rancor. Most of all,
the film revolves around Alex Descas in poses of solitude,
if such a quiet, self-effacing actor can be said to dominate.
Whether in close up or profile, smoking cigarettes, riding
motorbike or driving a train, there is something Monk-like
and deeply beautiful about his Lionel, heroically imbibing
loneliness and rays of ennui, as though by pulling in
enough negative energy the world might become a better
place. In the Q&A session, Denis revealed she was
inspired by the good looks of Godard's actors, unlike
those in other French films of the 60s. _35 Shots of Rum_
certainly boasts a cast of Greek gods. Gregoire Colin
(Noe), the most prototypical French actor this side of
Mathieu Amalric, sports a surprising olive tan, Spanish
curls, a wanderlust spirit, and dashing male cockiness.
Descas's daughter Josephine, played by Mati Diop,
is an exotic beauty caught between rail-bound Lionel and
Noe's open road. Gabrielle (Nicole Dogue), the high
strung neighbor -- once Josephine's babysitter -- still
has a lovely smile, but has grown wane from unrequited
yearning. Josephine's fellow students and Lionel's
coworkers, even the depressed ones, are all bright-eyed,
fine-boned creatures one sees only in dreamscape.
The film's much praised cinematography and guitar score
match the actor's physical beauty, but it is the unusual
editing, Denis intuitive eliding of unnecessary frames
that has moderator Noam Baumbach gushing. The door bell
rings, and in the next shot Descas is already in the
kitchen. Denis' actors hop through time, space, and
doorways like ghosts; no wonder their stories haunt us.
(Does this make her the anti-Rivette?) For the most part,
they do not enter the frame, they teleport, burst
into our consciousness. Post _Beau Travail_, it is the
preferred way their names materializes in end credits
too. None of this would work if Denis does not have an
miraculous sense of rhythm so that the cuts feel just right.
Her method flatters her pensive and introspective actors,
who seems frozen in stasis. Even when dancing, her
Demoiselles d'Djibouti, facing and taunting the camera,
are rooted in one place. Look back, Denis Lavant's
acrobatic dance of death in _Beau Travail_ could be a
time-capsuled avalanche in a snow globe.
Speaking of time's passage -- _35 Shot of Rum_ is a widely
acknowledged homage to _Late Spring_, Ozu's masterwork
made the year Denis was born. Descas channels the kindred
spirit of Chishu Ryu while Josephine's athletic Virgin
Megastore attendant updates Setsuko Hara. The tribute is
perfect down to the pre-marriage father-daughter last trip
(Germany instead of Kyoto), the off-screen wedding, and
its aftermath where Descas drains the titular amount of
rum -- echoing Chishu Ryu's post-wedding dissolution.
(We infer that Lionel has drunk so much just once before,
after the loss of the other woman in his life.) Wind-swept
grassfields chill us with reminder of mortality, and
graveside virgils are punctuated by children running with
lanterns. Ozu would no doubt have admired the thoughtfulness.
The train rides evoke the Japanese director by way of Hou
Hsiou-Hsien's _Cafe Lumiere_, just as the many domestic meals
evokes a major Ozu motif. It is only fitting that rice,
prepared in Nissan electric cookers, has become a staple of
these immigrants' diet alongside French bread; it feels so
touching and right, this coming together of disparate
cultures in most mundane ways. Perhaps it is the mutual
affinity to stasis that attracts Denis to Ozu. One master
acknowledges another, our heritage is preserved, and cinema
moves forward.
But a discordant undercurrent also runs through the film.
_35 Shots_ takes place mostly at night in the dead of winter,
often in driving rain storms. If this were Ozu it would be
_Tokyo Twilight_, the rarity that exchews his preferred
hot summer days. Lionel's coworkers are overwhelmingly
uprooted black immigrants; the oldest of them loses his
bearings after retirement and throws himself in front of
a metro. In the next generation, Josephine's proudly
militant classmates denounce debts in the third world
and embraces the 60s icon Fanon. They live free and their
protests shut down the university, but do they have enough
sense of self and community to save New France?
Against this backdrop, the small happiness among Denis'
quartet of protagonists becomes especially poignant. Be free,
Lionel urges Josephine, echoing the last great cinematic
father-daugher pairing in Kieslowski's _Red_. Yet he also
claims they have everything they want, no need looking
elsewhere. If so, why does he keep looking out the window?
Gabrielle wastes away in her balcony, waiting for a glimpse
of Lionel each day. Lionel is wary of Noe, who pines for
Josephine even if he is too proud to admit it. She is
drawn to his wildness and adventures, but is set in her
nightly communions with her father.
The four have been locked in the musical chair tango forever,
and the tension comes to a boil in the film's great set-piece.
As they flee the rain and seek refuge in a bar, "Sibony" and
"Nightshift" fills the dance floor. The camera sensuously
slithering around them, Lionel waltzes with Gabrielle, then
Josephine, finally -- passing off the future bride to Noe
-- on to the sexy bar owner (the actress seems familiar,
perhaps from Denis' other films?). Mindful of the father's
gaze, Josephine fends off Noe. Lionel ends up staying the
night; his companions, all feeling jilted in some way, limp
back to Noe's shaby apartment, ruminaging in vain for coffee
cream and aspirin. This night irrevocably precipates the
events that hasten the film's end ... Denis claimed not to
have a sense of humor, and once drew on that distinction from
anti-mentor Jim Jarmusch to define herself. In person she
is extremely funny, and _35 Shots of Rum_ has precious moments
of comic lightness never seen in Denis' previous work.
With the characters' fate decided, the trip to Germany becomes
a delightful epilogue. Denis never tips her hand about its
purpose or Josephine's mother's nationality, so that the RV
excursion seems to drop out of heaven, and adds to the film's
already rich cultural tapestry. In fact it is like a mini-Wim
Wenders road movie; characters go on their adventure on the
open road, and not even they know what will be discovered at
the other end. What awaits us turns out to be a matronly
Ingrid Caven, playing the best friend of Josephine's deceased
mother. In a kinder world the role would have gone to the
late Solveig Dommartin, a one-time Denis regular. Caven's
character has been leading an solitary life with her own
teenage daughter, and she is the veritable mirror image of
Lionel. She begs them to stay but father and daughter are
eager to move on. The re-union ends with her toast to their
"bravery." It could be just the drinks and the loneliness
talking, but Denis herself used similar words when describing
the legacy of Ozu's _Late Spring_. And didn't Dommartin
express similar thoughts in _Wings of Desire_?
_35 Shots of Rum_ is a surprisingly elegiac and generous film
from the pre-eminent cinematic poet of alienation. Its hopes
and dreams transcend time and culture, and like every elegant
song or string quartet it is sentimental only in best way.
I can see myself revisiting it every night the rest of my days.
Whether that makes it a masterpiece, time will tell. |
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