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Movies Forum Index » International Movies Forum » _La Vie en Rose_; _Paris je t'aime_
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 Posted: Thu Sep 06, 2007 12:13 am |
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Director Dahan has many metaphors for Edith Piaf's singing --
a circus, a tragedy -- but the freshest and keenest one may
be that of a boxing match. The way Marion Cotillard's Piaf
throws herself body and soul into her visceral performances,
sometimes literally risky health, sanity, and death, is soaringly
encapsulated in the champion prize fight of the "love of his
life" Marcel. At ringside, Cotillard/Piaf's reaction is that of
a child, her unadorned trust and adoration of her man a mirror
image of her regard of her father and Marlene Dietrich who
stops by her dinner table, jumping up and down, yelling "kill
him!" Too bad the rest of the film isn't as cinematically
exciting. (Dahan certainly has done better with _La Vie
Promise_.) Although some of the editing is memorable.
Cotillard steps through the news of tragedy -- the death of
Marcel -- directly on stage. I am no expert on Piaf's songs,
and while the singing in Piaf's youth is plentiful and supposed
to reveal her talent, I feel little for them. It is later, when
after we experience Piaf and her demons and tragedies, that
the songs carry the weight of a heavy-weight's left hook.
The said life experience and drugs and booze and her growing
fame also makes her ugly. Her childlike awkwardness that
grew out of a remarkably deprived childhood turns into monstrous
temper towards her entourage. (I wonder if she has a song about
monsters too.) She dismisses her long time (lesbian?) friend
(played by Sylvie Testud, generously playing the straight gal
and ceding centerstage) like she is a chambermaid. She starts
to look like a stooped vampire. What's the point of being
Edith Piaf if you can't act like Piaf, as she says. An interesting
take on social status indeed. The ending is unfortunate, though,
with the choice of song sappy and sentimental. No matter.
Cotillard, if need be said, gave a peerless performance she'll
spend the rest of her career trying to equal. Pascal Greggory
lends his moral support (in all senses of the word) with minimalist
acting.Even Emmanuelle Seigner gives an unusually dignified
performance. The film will make a ton of money and win top
prizes. Then it's time for Dahan to go back to his auteurist roots.
_Paris je t'aime_ is a very mixed bag indeed, but there is little
suprise. Juliette Binoche proves herself a supremely gifted
actress again. Maggie Gyllenhaal proves herself compulsively
watchable once more in Assayas' segment -- hand-held and
free-roaming in his rock-n-roll Paris, where he is at his best.
Tom Tykwer proves himself a world-class jerk, paying homage
to himself (_Run Lola Run_) instead of his cinematic elders
of Paris. His speed-up camera work would have been the perfect
way to tell a story in 6 and a half minutes if he had the discipline
to eschew his mannerism. No surprise -- he ruined _Heaven_
with his vanity too. But then, when he doesn't pay himself
homage (in _Perfume_) he is fantasizing himself the sweet
smelling artiste in a pigsty world. Why did Kieslowski have to
die and this guy can live? The only cinematically memorable
moments in the film are the Bela Tarr poster in the Miranda
Richardson segment and the single-take segment by Coaron
(which benefits from Nick Nolte's and Ludivine Sagnier's unique,
iinstantly recognizable voices). I don't quite know how to take
Alexander Payne's segment. Is it ridiculously patronizing
despite the sudden insight of the protagonist at the end? I
start to ask myself what Kieslowski would have done. Well
that is obvious. Kieslowski would have put more emphasis on
the postal worker's daily work and life in Denver; without that
background she is just a foolish tourist. I have been thinking
much about Kieslowski lately, because I just rewatched the
_Double Life of Veronique_ DVD -- more on that later. |
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