AMOUR FOU: Jessica Hausner's smart look at 19th-Century romantic, political, economic and family life (and love) in an evolving Germany

What a fine film is AMOUR FOU, the new work by Jessica Hausner, who also gave us Lourdes. As good as was that earlier movie, her new one is even better: richer, more specific and dealing with so many themes and ideas simultaneously in ways that makes them glitter and refract until you can see them from some very surprising angles. Ladies and gentlemen, this is movie art of a very high order. It is also, in its quiet way, as grandly entertaining as you could wish.

By carefully observing all her characters -- including the silent servants and family dogs -- Ms Hausner, pictured at left, manages to tweak amazing meaning and content from the confined and stilted behavior of the bourgeoisie of that time. Considering that the characters here are taken from a real-life situation -- involving the famous German poet, playwright and novelist, Heinrich von Kleist, and the suicide pact he hoped to make with a smitten young woman -- the movie is hugely (but again, quietly) funny as it decon-structs, via careful observa-tion, so many of the notions we still hold dear--including romantic love, family life, and medical diagnoses.

Ms Hausner has also cast her film extremely well, with the young actor -- Christian Friedel, above, right, of The White Ribbon and Chicken with Plums -- who plays von Kleist looking surprisingly like the portraits we have of the poet himself. In this role, Herr Friedel manages to be utterly real, ridiculously romantic, and an absolutely major twat. He is memorable in the most bizarre manner.

His sort-of inamorata, Henriette, is played by a relative newcomer, Birte Schnoeink (in foreground, above), and it is Henriette, together with those who surround her -- husband, mother, daughter, servant and dog -- who form the family unit that tries to protect the young woman from von Kleist, as well as from herself and from the medicine professionals of the day. All conspire to rob Henriette of her very life, and part of the irony, even of the bleak, black humor of the tale, comes from the way in which the supporting characters, especially the husband (a finely detailed performance by Stephan Grossman, below, left), try their best yet fail to make the necessary difference.

Romanticism and romantic love, at least as perceived by the Germans of this era, come in for a licking here, and yet I don't think that Ms Hauser wants necessarily to destroy them. She is simply showing us what adherence to such a lame-brained idea can produce. Henriette's husband's ability to think logically and honestly is also not enough; were he more emotional -- jealous, even -- he might have better achieved his ends. (His input as to Germany's quest to become a more just and democratic nation is also worth hearing. The film is quite properly concerned with more than mere romance.)

While Hauser's screenplay is alive with ideas, her visuals are equally strong. I can't remember having seen a more exquisitely shot and lighted "period" film in a long time. Everything from the walls and carpets to the colors and costumes seem near-perfect regarding their time and place. There's one scene at a dance, in which the camera remains stationery and faces and bodies move in and out of its range, that is simply splendid.

The movie also acts as a kind of trap into which our heroine falls. We watch in shock and then horror but we're also strangely amused by it all. Every era, I suppose, has its own special Waterloo, and the Age of Romanticism, which reaches some kind of nadir in this tale, now has its sad, comic memorial, too.

Amour Fou, another fine film from Film Movement (and one of the best this distributor has released in a long while) has its U.S. theatrical premiere this Wednesday, March 18, via a one-week run at Film Forum in New York City. In Los Angeles, look for it at Laemmle's Royal come Friday, March 20; then it's off to Miami, Minneapolis, Santa Fe, Seattle and Winston-Salem. Click here (then scroll down) to see all currently scheduled playdates, with cities and theaters listed.

Michel Bouquet in full bloom: Stéphanie Chuat & Véronique Reymond's THE LITTLE BEDROOM

Americans (of a certain age, at least) know their French Michels pretty well: There's the late Michel Serrault (La Cage aux folles) and Michel Simon (Port of Shadows), Michel Piccoli (La belle noiseuse) and Michel Blanc (Monsieur Hire). But what about Michel Bouquet? Last seen on theses shores in the title role of Renoir, the actor, shown at left and below, will turn 89 this November. He's a splendid talent, and although Bouquet has been working in film since 1947, it was probably the quick succession of The Bride Wore Black (1968), Mississippi Mermaid ('69) and Borsalino ('70) that brought him attention here in the USA. He's still at it, dishing up a fine performance with each new movie, and though it has taken THE LITTLE BEDROOM (La petite chambre) four years to reach American screens, the wait was worth it, for this is one of the actor's finest roles.

The story here will hit home for most western cultures, due to the age and situation of its leading character, Edmond (played by Bouquet): Approaching his dotage and growing both physically and mentally frail, though thankfully with a dry and dark sense of humor, Edmond has been moved to the town where his son dwells and is supplied with a pretty nice apartment  in which to live. (Granted there are a lot of stairs to climb, but, hell, it's exercise!)

Our senior citizen is also supplied with a young nurse/home-care attendant named Rose (Florence Loret Caille, above, left) to provide the needed help -- which, of course, Edmond rejects out of hand. Rose herself could use some help, suffering as she is from grief and loss. Her husband, Marc, played by that fine actor, Éric Caravaca (below), does what he can, but no, it's is really up to Edmond and Rose to guide each other into repair.

Where The Little Bedroom is headed is never much in question, but the journey getting there is filled with events that seem genuine and real, alternately funny and quietly moving. The film-making duo of Stéphanie Chuat and Véronique Reymond (shown below, with Ms Chuat on the left) knows how to compact a small movie like this one with singular events that resonate and build to a thoughtful and moving conclusion.

Their film is full of little touches -- like the family at the finale who photographs Edmond --  that seem both special and real. The dialog is spot-on (both women wrote the film as well as directed it), letting what exposi-tion we need tumble easily from the conversations between characters.

Finding ourselves through helping others is certainly a time-tested means of growth and change -- as well as helping a movie about this very subject appeal more strongly to its audience. That's the case here, and by the end of The Little Bedroom -- another of those small films that bites off just what it can chew and digest -- I think you'll be very pleased that you viewed it.

The movie -- a Switzerland/Luxembourg co-production distributed in the USA by Cinema Libre Studios and running 87 minutes -- opens here in New York City tomorrow, Friday, September 26, exclusively at the Cinema Village. Los Angeles audiences will get to see it come October 3, when it opens at Laemmle's Music Hall 3, Town Center 5 and Playhouse 7. And as with most of Cinema Libre's output, it will be available in other formats, as well. The Little Bedroom hits DVD, Amazon Instant Video and Vudu on December 9th.

HOUSE OF BOYS: An odd and very moving -- if soapy -- saga about early AIDS in Amsterdam

Even after seeing recent and worthwhile documentaries about the AIDS crisis and its history -- We Were Here and How to Survive a Plague -- a movie like HOUSE OF BOYS still proves what a wallop can be delivered by a narrative film with a good grasp of character and event and a vital theme that you might call (pace A Chorus Line) "What I Did for Love."

Directed and co-written by a fellow of whom I'd never heard, Jean-Claude Schlim (shown at right), the movie certainly covers all the bases: The first few minutes are a riot of color (pinks and blue, of course), complete with some Disney-like Cinderella animation, a beautiful blond boy running through a gorgeous golden field of corn, disco dancing and more. Before the opening credits, in fact, we've had what looks like some sort of choreographed musical number, too. Finally though, the movie settles down to become a three-part saga, set in the 1980s, of a runaway teen named Frank (Layke Anderson, below), his finding a home at a rather special gay night club/bordello (that titular House of Boys) and finally discovering real, till-death-do-us-part love -- unfortunately just at the time of the burgeoning AIDS crisis.

The movie grows deeper and sadder as it progresses but because the first half has been so full of life, charm, color and sexy, loving characters, when the sadness starts, we're so wrapped up in these people that we would follow them just about anywhere. Which we do.

The boys that Frank moves in with include one kid who's abused by his father; another who looks like a muscular, macho punk; the very femme boy saving up for transgender surgery (Stephen Webb, above) and a calls-himself-straight kid, Jake, with a girlfriend who crawls in through his window at night. Jake is played by the very hot-because-he-withholds young actor, Benn Northover, shown below, left, with Stephen Fry, who plays the kindly doctor flummoxed by this new disease.

The man in charge of the kids is that terrifically fun and often funny actor Udo Keir (below, in drag) who serves as head entertainer, father confessor, and madam of this gay brothel in which the kids dance for the entertainment of the guests and then give them something extra in the back room. (Considering what goes on here, the movie is relatively restrained, going for the heartstrings rather than the penile muscles in most cases. For the record, there's no full-frontal on display.)

At times the writing is only so-so (fortunately never less than that); at other moments it rises to the beautiful and moving, as do the performances and the direction. The real helper and mother figure to the teenagers here (Madam, you see, never comes through in a pinch), is Emma, played by that wonderful actress Eleanor David (shown below, left, with Mr; Anderson), who brings great warmth and affection to every scene in which she appears. Emma loves these boys so much, for a reason we later learn, that this deep love helps bring us along with her.

Though divided into three sections and sporting a running time of almost two hours, the movie is never boring. Mr. Anderson's performance carries us from joy and freedom on to love and sorrow. So if you're gay-friendly and haven't had a good cry in awhile, here's your ticket. You can view House of Boys -- a Luxembourg/German co-production from Breaking Glass Pictures and spoken in English, though with some odd accents throughout, consider-ing we're supposed to be in Amsterdam -- via Netflix streaming or on DVD.