Showing posts with label Juliette Binoche. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Juliette Binoche. Show all posts

Saturday, 7 May 2022

Movie Review: Chocolat (2000)

A tender drama with sprinkles of humour and romance, Chocolat is a playful story about the winds of change.

The setting is 1959 in rural France. Life in the small riverfront village of Lansquenet centres around the church, and the mayor Comte de Reynaud (Alfred Molina) ensures long-held traditions are respected. Free-spirited expert chocolatier Vianne Rocher (Juliette Binoche) and her young daughter Anouk drift into town. Vianne rents vacant premises in the town square from the crusty Armande (Judi Dench) and dares to open her chocolate shop in the middle of Lent. 

The Comte is not impressed by the unmarried mother causing a stir in his community, but Vianne sets out to win hearts through her chocolate creations, and befriends Armande, who is on bad terms with her daughter Caroline (Carrie-Anne Moss). Vianne also helps Josephine (Lena Olin), who is stuck in an abusive marriage. The arrival of a band of river gypsies led by Roux (Johnny Depp) further disrupts the town, and Reynaud increases his efforts to drive those he deems undesirable out of town.

An adaptation of the Joanne Harris book, Chocolat is a whimsical experience. Director Lasse Hallström and writer Robert Nelson Jacobs craft a fairly predictable but still enjoyable light-hearted drama with a fairy-tale ethos. Aided by winning performances and an isolated but still vibrant locale, Vianne's adventures carry transformational themes into intimate encounters.

While never overbearing, serious issues infuse the drama with substance, with a focus on women at life's various stages. The elderly Armande is clinging to vivacious ideals despite a serious health crisis, while Josephine is the community's prospective outcast, a woman veering towards irrationality due to abuse. Both stories use poignancy to affirm a woman's right to break loose of expectations, especially when suffering.

More broadly, Vianne representing secular modernity clashing with religious traditions. She shuns local conventions, and later Roux joins her as a free spirit equally dismissive of the old ways. Although Vianne makes no attempt to bridge the divide, Hallström unquestionably - and rather simplistically - aligns his sympathies with the winds of renewal, and portrays the Compte as an antagonistic relic.

But delving deeper, Vianne's chocolate recipes and backstory are derived from ancient Mayan traditions, and so also carry the weight of history, but from a different culture and another corner of the world. Chocolat becomes an intriguing contrast between two keys to the heart, both mystical, but at least superficially incompatible.

In addition to the central stories featuring Armande and Josephine, Vianne's chocolates help one couple regain a sexual spark, and encourage one man (and his dog) to pursue a romance with a widow (Leslie Caron), both side-stories adding moments of levity. The performances merge with the impish mood, Juliette Binoche setting the tone for the women-dominated cast by knowingly investing in confections as gateways to the soul. Chocolat tilts to the sweet side, but is nevertheless irresistible.



All Ace Black Movie Blog reviews are here.

Saturday, 27 March 2021

Movie Review: A Thousand Times Good Night (2013)

The conflict between dangerous work and a loving family receives sober treatment in A Thousand Times Good Night, a drama benefitting from a venerable dilemma and a stellar Juliette Binoche performance.

Rebecca (Binoche) is a photojournalist covering the world's most dangerous conflicts. She gains exclusive access to photograph the preparations of a suicide bomber in Afghanistan, but gets too close and is injured in the blast. She returns home to Ireland to recover.

Rebecca has a husband Marcus (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) and two daughters, teenager Steph (Lauryn Canny) and the younger Lisa. Marcus, a marine biologist, makes it clear he and the girls can no longer tolerate the stress of Rebecca's work. She agrees to quit traveling to danger zones and be more available as a mom. Through a school project about Africa, Steph starts to understand and appreciate her mother's work, and joins Rebecca on a seemingly safe assignment to a Kenyan refugee camp. But Rebecca's steely determination to seek and photograph injustice will not easily subside.

An independent Irish-Norwegian co-production, A Thousand Times Good Night carries pragmatism as a badge. Director Eric Poppe, working from a script by Harald Rosenløw Eeg, deploys just a few jarring scenes of conflict to light a fire under a familial drama, and then allows no easy answers. After a startling opening 15 minutes, the pacing becomes occasionally ponderous. But while tragic tension builds rapidly in advance of a bombing atrocity, Rebecca's family is on a slow burning edge, keenly aware any decision she makes carries painful and probably intolerable sacrifice.

Poppe knows the subject matter, having worked as a photographer covering a variety of conflicts. Here Rebecca's grim pursuit of images from the globe's hotspots comes from a place of rage and passion: she seeks to awaken the world's consciousness to injustice and suffering. She admits to acting on instinct, but may not fully acknowledge her craving for the adrenaline rush of running towards the danger everyone else is running away from.

A Thousand Times Good Night mostly settles down in Ireland to pick at intractable issues. Marcus is convinced Rebecca's job is incompatible with being a mother and a wife. The film never asks if the same applies to a man in the field and a woman closer to home, but the undercurrent is clear. Regardless, Rebecca does not disagree and knows she is missing out on her daughters' growth, Steph in particular craving her mother's attention as she blossoms.

But staying home is misery for a woman like Rebecca, and everyone knows it. The mother-daughter Kenya trip appears to offer an outlet, but takes a turn that only exposes the truth. Ironically the dangers to the family surface not in the refugee camp, but back home in Ireland.

In an unwavering performance, Binoche is magnetic, using the slightest expressions to reveal the tensions within a conflicted woman. Equally impressive is Lauryn Canny in her film debut as Steph, delivering the pouty performance of a moody teenager traversing the line between child and adult. 

A Thousand Times Good Night finds a poignant moment of revelation in the bland setting of a high school parking lot: Rebecca, Steph and a camera come face to face to face, the mechanical lens unstoppable as mother and daughter succumb to their humanity.



All Ace Black Movie Blog reviews are here.

Thursday, 4 February 2021

Movie Review: The Truth (2019)


A family drama, The Truth explores a difficult relationship between a celebrity mother and her emotionally neglected daughter. While the characters are interesting, the story struggles for justification.

In France, Fabienne (Catherine Deneuve) is a fading but still active movie star about to release an autobiographical book. Her daughter Lumir (Juliette Binoche) arrives for a visit, along with her American husband and struggling actor Hank (Ethan Hawke) and young daughter Charlotte. Self-centred and obsessed with her career, Fabienne never tried to be much of a mother. Her autobiography is filled with flagrant inaccuracies intended to varnish her image, infuriating Lumir.

The visiting family accompany Fabienne to the set of her latest movie, which happens to be about a complex mother-daughter bond starring current hot actress Manon (Manon Clavel). With her long-time butler abandoning her after getting fed-up with her ego, Fabienne has an opportunity to reconsider how she treats those closest to her.

With the talents of Catherine Deneuve and Juliette Binoche occupying the two central roles, The Truth does not lack acting excellence. Both actresses shine, Deneuve finding the unapologetically icy diva within, and Binoche responding with a cry for a semblance of regret or humanity.

Writer and director Hirokazu Koreeda has less success with a relatively damp script. Tension between a career-driven mother and neglected daughter is not exactly new cinematic territory, and here peripheral distractions abound from Ethan Hawke's non-entity actor to Fabienne's butler, cook/lover and ex-husband all in a parade of ignored men. The dialogue lacks edge, and the narrative ambles instead of striving.

What is expected from career women, the trade-offs between professional and family happiness, and who gets to tell their own story are the touched upon themes. The chasm between Fabienne and Lumir is occupied by the spectral presence of the never-seen Sarah, Fabienne's friend and rival during her star-making years. Except that Sarah was also a caring human being and took on the role of Lumir's surrogate mother, offering Fabienne a clear shot at career glory but at a heavy personal price. Frustratingly, Sarah is repeatedly mentioned but never shown.

In the movie-within-a-movie, Fabienne's role as the daughter of a mother who placed her needs first offers rich terrain for reflection. The character of star actress Manon has found a way to stay young forever, the desire of every movie star, but can only see her daughter every seven years. Fabienne approaches Manon with a mixture of barely concealed envy and disdain, not enjoying the image in the mirror. The Truth may be influenced by perspective, but rarely lives up to the desired fantasy.



All Ace Black Blog Movie Reviews are here.

Sunday, 4 August 2019

Tuesday, 15 January 2019

Movie Review: The Unbearable Lightness Of Being (1988)


A three-way grand romance set against the Prague Spring, The Unbearable Lightness Of Being explores life's profound choices through tumultuous personal relationships.

It's 1968, and the winds of political freedom appear to sweep through Prague. Tomas (Daniel Day-Lewis) is a charismatic doctor and an irresistible sexual magnet to all women, although he is closest to Sabina (Lena Olin), a free-spirited artist. Neither of them are interested in commitment, although they are soul mates in every other way.

Tomas: I must go.
Sabina: Don't you ever spend the night at the woman's place?
Tomas: Never!
Sabina: What about when the woman's at your place?
Tomas: I tell her I have insomnia... anything. Besides, I have a very narrow bed.
Sabina: Are you afraid of women, Doctor?
Tomas: Of course.

On a trip to a countryside spa to perform surgery, Tomas is entranced by young and innocent waitress Tereza (Juliette Binoche). The feeling is mutual, she follows him to Prague and they are soon married. She finds work as a photographer and he quickly resumes his philandering ways. Just as Tereza is reaching her tolerance breaking point Soviet tanks rumble into the city, crushing any hopes of liberty. First Sabina and then Tomas and Tereza relocate to Geneva. Sabina meets and starts a relationship with married professor Franz (Derek de Lint), but starting a new life in a foreign country will not be easy and Prague will exert a powerful pull.

Milan Kundera's novel was published in 1984, and four years later director Philip Kaufman brought it to the screen with a script by Jean-Claude Carrière. While Kundera did not approve of the adaptation, The Unbearable Lightness Of Being is a masterful cinematic achievement, a dreamy composition drenched in European sensibility and perfectly deploying the classic romance within upheaval template. Running close to three hours, the pace is luxurious and the visuals rich with the texture of Prague, politics and personal passions.

Through the story of Tomas' love for both Sabina and Tereza and the women's mutual appreciation of their roles in his life, Kaufman draws out the essentials for each character. For Tomas the pursuit of sexual pleasure with a succession of partners is an absolute. As he cycles through cities, careers and circumstances, his eyes will always wander.

Tomas (many times): Take off your clothes.

For Sabina unfettered freedom matters, and her jagged artistry and love of mirrors combines easily with a distaste for ever allowing anyone else to share her reflection. And Tereza is a model of patience and sacrifice, willing to do anything to stand by the one man she loves, no matter how many times he strays. Her dedication leads to sordid dead-ends in trying to emulate his emotional detachment from sexual adventurism. Tomas thrives within the carefree lightness of his being, Tereza finds it unbearable, and yet they deeply love each other.

Tereza, speaking to Tomas: I know I'm supposed to help you, but I can't. Instead of being your support I'm your weight. Life is very heavy to me, but it is so light to you. I can't bear this lightness, this freedom... I'm not strong enough.

Kaufman weaves a broader search of happiness theme seamlessly into the lovers' travails. Choices about where to live, whether to conform or resist, and tests of commitment to each other and to independent thought are interjected throughout the film. Places matter and influence well-being: Prague is the warmth of home first with the exciting freedom of expression then with the steel boot of communism, while Geneva offers cold safety in a foreign land. Late in the film an unexpected locale and the opportunity for a new lifestyle is presented, allowing the activist urbanites to explore a surprisingly attractive dynamic.

Daniel Day-Lewis, Lena Olin and Juliette Binoche are unforgettable in their roles, and create three compelling people well worth spending time with.

With frequent scenes featuring lovemaking and nudity, The Unbearable Lightness Of Being targets mature audiences willing to invest the time to soak up its tender brilliance. All three characters carry their affections alongside their faults, and they are all also endearingly human in their uncompromising search for a life worth living.

Tereza: Tomas, what are you thinking?
Tomas: I'm thinking how happy I am.






All Ace Black Blog Movie Reviews are here.


Saturday, 4 August 2018

Movie Review: Words And Pictures (2013)


A romantic drama, Words And Pictures explores two damaged souls finding salvation in each other, but all the literary pretensions cannot conceal the film's predictable foundations.

Jack Marcus (Clive Owen) is a washed-up English teacher at the upscale Croydon College in Maine. Once a marginally famous published author, he is now increasingly dependent on the bottle to get through the day. The College administration start proceedings to review his performance with a strong inclination to terminate him. His students include the studious Emily (Valerie Tian) and Cole (Josh Ssettuba), and the mischievous Swint (Adam DiMarco).

Dina Delsanto (Juliette Binoche) arrives at Croyden as the new Fine Arts teacher. Once a famous artist, she is now hobbled by rheumatoid arthritis and increasingly bitter about her declining abilities. Jack and Delsanto clash about the value of written literature relative to the visual arts, and their academic rivalry re-ignites his passion for teaching. Emily is particularly inspired by Dina, but has to deal with a bullying episode. Although Dina and Marcus develop a mutual attraction, his drinking leaves him susceptible to self-destructive behaviour.

Directed by Fred Schepisi and written by Gerald Di Pego, Words And Pictures attempts a relatively cerebral take on romamce, and targets a more mature audience. This is a love story in an academic milieu featuring grown-ups hauling plenty of real-world luggage and finding a new spark on life thanks to a professional rivalry. The dialogue is rich with prose espousing the virtues of the written word (from Marcus) and the beauty of the image (from Delsanto), and while initially fresh, the sparring exhausts itself relatively early. Di Pego also falls into a trap of his own making, Marcus' silly game of trading multisyllabic words in alphabetical order overstaying its welcome by about one hour and five syllables.

The two central characters are in midst of suffering when they meet, and a grizzled weariness permeates the film as an antidote to romance flimsiness. Marcus is drinking heavily and in full descent into don't care mode, with dismissal the next logical step. Delsanto (as he insists on calling her) is relocating from the glamour of New York City to the relative backwater of a Maine prep college, her arthritis increasing dictating her art.

Competing for the hearts of the same students, he tries to shape up, dry out and re-energize the student literary magazine, and she attempts to reinvent her painting style and ignite Emily's passion. Both will stumble and take backward steps along the journey, and their clash and tentative efforts towards self-improvement maintain a modicum of narrative interest. Clive Owen and Juliette Binoche are never less than serviceable, but the roles hardly demand a stretch.

All the secondary and supporting cast are short-changed and generally abandoned. Emily is first subjected to a too-quickly forgotten bullying incident and then a truncated art mentorship, and she is the only student provided with any kind of meaningful screen time.

Words And Pictures has both elegant words and pretty pictures, plus also plenty of bland faux artistry.






All Ace Black Movie Blog Reviews are here.

Sunday, 10 September 2017

Movie Review: Clouds Of Sils Maria (2014)


A life imitates art imitates life drama, Clouds Of Sils Maria offers layers of emotional discourse but remains narrowly constrained within a deeply personal story.

Maria Enders (Juliette Binoche) is a middle-aged Europe-based star actress going through an ugly divorce. With help from her ever-present assistant and friend Valentine (Kristen Stewart), Maria is on her way to Switzerland to accept an award on behalf of reclusive writer Wilhelm when the shocking news arrives that he has committed suicide.

Years earlier Maria had become a star playing an 18-year old provocative character called Sigrid who seduces middle aged mentor and businesswoman Helena in the Wilhelm-penned play Maloja Snake (a reference to stunning cloud formations through the Alp mountains). Now director Klaus Diesterweg (Lars Eidinger) wants Maria to take on the role of Helena in a reworking of the play, opposite brash up-and-coming American starlet Jo-Ann Ellis (Chloë Grace Moretz) as Sigrid.

Taking up residence Wilhelm's house in the magical settlement of Sils Maria deep in the Swiss Alps, Maria struggles to emotionally prepare for the role of Helena. Val helps her with line readings, but a rift starts to emerge between the two women, Val expressing admiration for Jo-Ann's in-your-face talent and lifestyle and Maria trying to adapt to being the older woman.

Directed and written by Olivier Assayas at Binoche's suggestion, Clouds Of Sils Maria contains parallels with Binoche's experiences at it exposes what goes on behind the curtains of a star performer's life. This is both the film's appeal and its limitation. For all its fly-on-the-wall, vulnerabilities-laid-bare credentials, for very long periods the script defaults to a two-person talkfest, Maria and Val engaged in cerebral conversations about the past and the present, revealing the plot of Maloja Snake through line readings as Maria struggles to face her present and future and let go of her ingenue past.

The rehearsal scenes intentionally meld the lines between Helena / Sigrid and Maria / Val, and it's often pleasantly unclear what is a play and what is real life. To the extent that these scenes work at all is testimony to two flowing performances from Binoche and Stewart, heartily recruited as volunteer comrades representing their age groups.

The broader applications of the dialogue to Maria's life, actresses' dimming wattage and appeal as middle age takes hold in a merciless industry, inter-generational divides and more broadly the rapidly changing role of women from young disruptors to mature victims of disruption are all compelling. But these are themes that reside between the lines of Clouds Of Sils Maria. The film is to be commended for triggering conversations; in itself, the viewing experience sometimes resembles watching paint dry.

Ethereal elements creep into the story's final act, Maria facing up to her prospects and letting go of the past, in some cases literally. Clouds Of Sils Maria sits heavy in the sky, a largely private battle between provocative and pretentious.






All Ace Black Blog Movie Reviews are here.


Sunday, 17 January 2016

Movie Review: Dan In Real Life (2007)


A mild romantic comedy, Dan In Real Life has a cute premise but weak follow-through.

In New Jersey, Dan Burns (Steve Carell) writes a newspaper relationship advice column. A widower, he is overprotective and struggling to raise three daughters on his own as they go through puberty and puppy love issues. In a despondent mood, Dan drives with his daughters to Rhode Island for a long weekend family reunion at the beach front home of his parents (John Mahoney and Dianne Wiest). Also in attendance are Dan's siblings and their families, including his brother Mitch (Dane Cook), a hunky bachelor and fitness trainer.

Dan meets the attractive Marie (Juliette Binoche) at the local bookstore, and they immediately sense an attraction. They chat over coffee and she snaps him out of his moodiness. They part on a promise to meet again although she does tell him that she is just starting a new relationship. Back at the beach house, Dan is shocked to re-encounter Marie, who has arrived at the family reunion as Mitch's new girlfriend. They keep their bookstore encounter a secret. As the weekend progresses Mitch and Marie fawn all over each other as the rest of the family falls in love with the vivacious, worldly and clever Marie, while Dan is pushed to extremes of jealousy and childish behaviour.

Directed by Peter Hedges, Dan In Real Life has a single idea to work with, and doesn't do much with it. The film hinges on Dan and Marie first deeply connecting with each other after a single encounter, and then keeping their sudden attachment a secret from the sprawling family. This is all established within the first 30 minutes, and for the next hour Hedges (who also co-wrote the script) wanders around the beach house looking for opportunities for Dan to act childish.

This not only gets tiresome quickly, but also undermines the film's premise. Dan's pouty behaviour is only rarely funny and generally makes him exceptionally unattractive, and a smart woman like Marie should have recognized his emotionally immaturity and cast him adrift instead of stringing him along. But then Marie's purported intelligence is already undermined by her attachment to the hunky but relatively dull Mitch, further eroding the movie's rationality.

The film attempts to win cheap sentimental points late on by throwing in sappy moments related to Dan's deceased wife and his relationship with his girls, but by then the infatuation triangle between Dan, Marie and Mitch has unravelled beyond salvation.

A talented cast is merely adequate. Carell does show an aptitude for the more subdued side of the comedy spectrum, but too often sleepwalks through the film with a single passive aggressive stance of simmering jealousy. Binoche is perky but borderline annoying. The rest of the family members are almost interchangeable and lack definition. Emily Blunt shows up in a couple of scenes as a bubbly childhood friend of Dan's, and a potential pawn in the spite battles. Amy Ryan has a minor role as Dan's sister-in-law.

Dan In Real Life arrives at the vacation house with good intentions to have a fun time, but is caught at the beach all wet and without a towel.






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Saturday, 19 December 2015

Movie Review: The English Patient (1996)


A grand romance for the ages, The English Patient is a complex, layered story of an impossible love found and lost in the shadow of war. The Michael Ondaatje novel is given the royal screen treatment, and the remarkable ballad wrapped in mystery is powerful enough to carry the weight of an epic film.

With World War II raging in Italy, Canadian nurse Hana (Juliette Binoche) is helping to treat and transport injured soldiers, but loses two friends in quick succession. Close to despair, she decides to care for a badly injured man (Ralph Fiennes), suffering from severe burns and loss of memory, and known only as "the English patient" due to his accent. The man sustained his injuries after being shot out of the sky over the North African desert. Hana installs her bed-ridden patient in an abandoned countryside monastery to wait out the war, and reads to him to pass the time.

His memories gradually return, and the film unfolds in two parallel time frames. In flashback, the patient is revealed to be Count László Almásy, a Hungarian cartographer. Just before the start of the war, he was a member of a Royal Geographical Society expedition searching for ancient caves in the North African desert, along with fellow researcher Peter Madox (Julian Wadham) and financier Geoffrey Clifton (Colin Firth). The quiet, introverted Almásy falls deeply in love with Clifton's lively wife Katharine (Kristin Scott Thomas), and they start a passionate affair as war erupts all around them.

Back at the monastery, Hana and her patient start to attract a crowd. First they are joined by David Caravaggio (Willem Dafoe), an Allied agent who suffered at the hands of the Germans and is pursuing his now personal mission. And then a squadron of British bomb-disposal experts, led by a Sikh soldier named Kip (Naveen Andrews), sets up camp at the monastery to clear the area of unexploded mines. Hana and Kip are attracted to each other despite her worry that everyone she loves ends up badly hurt. Meanwhile, as Almásy loses his remaining strength and will to live, he reveals the final chapter of his love affair with Katharine.

Written and directed by Anthony Minghella and running a mammoth 162 minutes, The English Patient is a stunning achievement. The pace is slow, the structure convoluted, the characters complicated and conflicted, and the settings a combination of harsh desert, North African cities on edge, and a rural Italy suffering through the chaos of war. Minghella weaves the film together from a starting point of seemingly disparate, disconnected threads and gradually creates a magical tapestry of love flourishing in the midst of a world obsessed with death.

To convey a sense of an enormous personal tragedy unfolding within a great global conflict, Minghella adopts a ponderous, almost lethargic approach. Every scene is stretched out, and many scenes come and go while appearing to add little. Secondary characters drop in and drop out after contributing just the tiniest of additional context.

But the little increments ever so slowly add up to an impressive big picture, and Minghella adds some spectacular, punchy set-pieces, including steamy sex scenes, a disturbing chapter in a Nazi torture chamber, overturned vehicles in the unforgiving desert, merciless sandstorms, an attempted murder-suicide, and finally a madding encounter with wartime British bureaucracy at its worst.

By the time The English Patient enters its third hour, an impressive momentum is in full steam. The illicit love affair between Almásy and Katharine has taken hold, war has erupted, Caravaggio's story hints at a terrible secret yet to be revealed, while Hana and Kip are taking all manner of risks in the name of love and war.

If some elements of the film feel familiar, it's because Minghella clearly has David Lean on his mind. The English Patient is a respectful amalgam of the majestic desert-as-domineering-backdrop from Lawrence Of Arabia and romance-amidst-turmoil from Doctor Zhivago, with the plight of intense personalities competing with historic events and grand vistas.

The performances are good without being great. Ralph Fiennes does well to convey a resigned yet still acerbic attitude as the badly disfigured protagonist under a ton of make-up in the monastery scenes. He is less interesting as the perpetually glum cartographer in the flashbacks, barely coming out of his shell to fall in love with Katharine. Kristen Scott Thomas is adequate without fully presenting a convincing argument as to why Katharine would fall for Almásy. Juliette Binoche is better, and creates in Hana a woman at the limit of being able to cope with the war of others, and therefore taking matters into her own hands, consequences be damned. Willem Dafoe, Naveen Andrews and Colin Firth all add vigour and energy, but not much in the way of depth.

Once The English Patient reaches its conclusion, the strength of the romance is passionately palpable and quite moving. The story of the Count and Katharine ends where it starts, in a small plane zipping across the desert, caught in an uncontrollable spiral of violence. The English Patient is both enormously bloated and extraordinarily magnificent.






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