Whimsy done deliciously in Dominique Abel & Fiona Gordon's best-film-yet, LOST IN PARIS

Whimsy's a tricky thing. It can so easily curdle into the kind of cuteness that sets your teeth on edge. But when it's done right (and usually with enough brevity so as not to outlast its delicate charms), it can be so delightful as to make you feel you're on top of the world.

Interestingly enough the film capital of whimsy would seem to be the country of Belgium, since it's major practitioners appear to live and thrive there. Those would be Jaco van Dormael (who last year gave us a wonderful example in The Brand New Testament) and Dominique Abel (above) and Fiona Gordon (below), the pair of farceurs responsible for today's delightful example, LOST IN PARIS.

Ms Gordon is actually Australian-born, but because she is married to M. Abel and, I presume, lives with him in Belgium, I am crediting her to that little country. This pair has gifted us previously with two whimsical films, The Fairy and The Iceberg, both of which were lots of fun but also somewhat up-and-down, quality-wise. TrustMovies is happy to report that this new one is their best yet: an almost constant flow of great humor, strangeness (these are two of the weirdest-looking movie stars you're likely to see, and they love to emphasize that weirdness continually and cleverly), and performances that rely as much on movement, energy and bizarre poise as you could ever imagine.

Also in the cast are two French old pros -- the late Emmanuelle Riva (above, right, whose penultimate film this is) and Pierre Richard (above, left) -- both of whom are simply wonderful. The pair (or more likely, their dancing stunt doubles) gets to do a delightful little number featuring only feet and ankles that would probably make Tommy Tune green with envy.

The story -- a bit of silly fluff manufactured to offer up the opportunity for the leading actors to strut their pretty amazing stuff -- takes our heroine from a cold, wintry Canadian mountain village (above, in the film's first flight of fanciful whimsy) to Paris to visit her aging aunt who needs some help. (Why the aunt's letter is so very late in arriving is one of the movie's more delicious jokes.)

Once in the City of Lights, Fiona encounter a bizarre clochard named Dom who falls instantly in love with our gal, pursuing her, even as she pursues her elusive Aunt Martha. There are a number of wonderful, memorable scenes here, one of which takes place on a bateau/restaurant and involves a set of speakers with very aggressive bass tones,

and another (above) that involves the coming-undone of a fragment of La Tour Eiffel. Both scenes bring out the consummate skills at movement, choreography and comedy possessed by our talented, triple-threat directors/writers/actors.

There's also a splendid funeral scene that shows the pair's proclivity for dark whimsy, some funny underwater business (above), and a simply lovely moment near the end (below) that showcases Ms Riva's abiding ability to steal a scene. The finale, in fact, could not be a more fitting memorial to this rather special actress who came to international prominence via Hiroshima Mon Amour and managed to stay there for nearly sixty years.

From Oscilloscope Films, in English and French with English subtitles, and running a just-about-perfect 83 minutes, Lost in Paris, after opening in New York, L.A. and elsewhere, hits South Florida this Friday, July 14 -- in Miami at the Miami Beach Cinematheque and the Bill Cosford Cinema; at Savor Cinema in Fort Lauderdale and Cinema Paradiso, Hollywood; at the Living Room Theater in Boca Raton, at the Lake Worth Playhouse, and Movies of Delray and Movies of Lake Worth. To see all currently schedule playdates across the country, click here and then scroll down.

THE BRAND NEW TESTAMENT: Jaco Van Dormael's best film since Toto the hero

Jaco Van Dormael, that visual master of prestidigitation and whimsy, is back -- with a "religious" movie that is not merely irreverent but downright nasty (deservedly so: we're talking god here), smart, angry, romantic, charming, funny, feminist, and philosophical, too. It is also a major delight from start to finish.

M. Van Dormael (perhaps I should not being using the abbreviation for Monsieur, but the movie is spoken partially in French), shown at left, the Belgian filmmaker who has given us at least two marvelous movies -- Toto The Hero and Mr. Nobody -- has now provided a kind of trilogy of world-class amazements with his latest work, THE BRAND NEW TESTAMENT, via which we learn that god is alive and unwell mentally and living in Brussels, with his beleaguered wife and angry, adolescent daughter.

God is also a power-hungry, nasty fanatic who likes to screw things up and set rules (a number of which we learn) designed to gum up everything from mankind's fondest hopes to its smallest endeavors. And, yes, he works via computer. That he is played by the consummate actor, Benoît Poelvoorde (above), just adds to the fun.

When that daughter (the pert and pugnacious Pili Groyne, above, right, and below (the fabulous actress Yolande Moreau plays mom, above, center) decides to do something about her dad's decadent reign, the plot takes off and doesn't stop until the guy is put in his place and the world can maybe begin again. Under new management.

How we get there proves all the fun, and this also allows Van Dormael to let loose with his full arsenal of too-much-ness. If ever a movie called for this kind of over-the-top whimsical style, it's The Brand New Testament, and the writer/director goes at it full-throttle. What he comes up with is too good to give away. You'll have to see the movie to experience the full fun.

Suffice it to say that we'll meet not only the daughter's more-famous brother -- a certain Jesus fellow -- but also a new round of "disciples" (above) that include -- as did the earlier ones, I suspect -- just your average, problemed guys with, this time around, some gals added to the ever-bubbling mix.

Among the latter is that French icon Catherine Deneuve (in background, above, and second from right, two photos above), as game as ever and here to be found in bed with a gorilla -- and, no, I do not mean Gérard Depardieu in his macho nutcase mode -- but the real thing. Each of the new disciples, you see, is afflicted with a rather desperate human need, which our good daughter and her brand new testament can heal.

In the midst of all the invention here is a dream sequence featuring a disembodied hand doing a lovely dance that helps another of those disciples (Laura Verlinden, above) with her own physical limitation. Van Dormael's past use of whimsy has, I think, alienated certain critics. Here, however, they may find themselves in the fold, due to the director's ability to make that whimsy unusually pointed, meaningful and rich -- and, in the case of Ms Verlinden's character, exquisitely moving.

Simply on the basis of another small but choice character named Kevin -- who, each time he turns up, makes us guffaw anew -- The Brand New Testament is a must. Do stay and view the entire end credits to enjoy Kevin's final visit. (That's yet another fine and famous Belgian actor, François Damiens, above, playing a disciple with a killer instinct.)

The movie -- one more gem (along with The Innocents, Francofonia and Monster With a Thousand Heads) to be released this year by Music Box Films -- in French and German with English subtitles, runs 114 minutes. In terms of length, this comes in about halfway between Toto and Nobody. Where whimsy is concerned, shorter, I think, is generally better. The film opens this Friday, December 9, in New York City (at The Landmark Sunshine Cinema), Los Angeles (at the Landmark NuArt) and South Florida: in Miami at the MDC Tower Theater, in Boca Raton at the Living Room Theaters, and in Fort Lauderdale at the Gateway Theater. Over the weeks to come the film will open in another 36 cities. To view them all, simply click here and then click on THEATERS in the task bar midway down the screen.

SCN: Enrique Otero's CREBINSKY combines silent-film clowning with cows, icons & war

Galicia, one of Spain's most beautiful areas, adds the scenery, notable actors Sergio Zearreta and Miguel De Lira offer the clowning, Patricia de Lorenzo (as a character called Loli Marlén) does a nifty, low-end and brunette version of Marlene Dietrich, while nasty Germans and asinine Americans frolic around the outskirts, and a cow -- the real and enduring love interest in the movie -- disappears. All of this (taking place during WWII, 'natch) is whipped into fairly acceptable shape by filmmaker Enrique Otero, who co-wrote the film with his co-star De Lira.

CREBINSKY, the name of the film and (I think) of the family that inhabits it (which is currently down to two brothers, mom and dad having been eliminated via tree), is a vehicle for, most particularly, whimsy -- a state of being that many movies aspire to put their audiences into but few effectively manage. Señor Otero, shown at left, comes close enough periodically for his film to qualify as a contender, though at times it seems like whimsy run rampant, complete with tinkly, silent-film music to cue us into obeisance. This is especially true when the Germans or Americans come into play, with the latter's commanding officer played by that great Spanish actor Luis Tosar (below), here sporting a not-so-hot American accent that probably wowed Spaniards but will leave most Americans scratching their head.

The treatment of WWII as pictured in Crebinsky may not be as lowly as, say, Hogan's Heroes, but it comes off as just this side of silly, nonetheless. But because the film is set in WWII Spain, a country that went Fascist but managed to keep itself, supposedly, above the fray, the picture is not as much black-and-white as it is all shades of gray, many of them pretty dark.

The plot, such as it is, manages to give us the history of these two brothers and their late family, while showing us what's happening right now -- which is the loss and then the finding of their precious cow, with side trips for the traveling musicale performed by Loli Marlén and her manager, and the search by the Germans for one of their lost flyers and the Americans, personified by submarine Captain played by Tosar.

Too heavy-handed by half, the film still manages to entertain and occasionally surprise, thanks for the performances of its two leads, De Lira (above, right) and Zearreta (above, left), that very special cow (below), Tosar, the actors playing Germans, and all the rest. I should imagine that filming this movie was lots of fun. And about half of that fun is passed along to the audience. Whether it will be enough will be up to each individual member.

The FSLC's Spanish Cinema Now ended its 14-day run at the Walter Reade Theater yesterday. I'll cover the remaining movies and program of short films in the days to come.