Chuckling at--and with--the bourgeoisie: Danièle Thompson's CHANGE OF PLANS

When TrustMovies first encountered the latest addition to the exquisitely funny, charming and moving ensemble pieces of bourgeoisie-comedy creator Danièle Thompson, it was a year-and-one-half ago at the FSLC's Rendez-vous with French Cinema. At the time he noted that no US distributor had yet taken on the film, but that surely the starry cast, the comedy, and Thompson's past record (La bûche, Jet Lag, Avenue Montaigne) would change this. Change, it turns out, comes slower than we might like, but at least it arrives -- with the opening tomorrow of  CHANGE OF PLANS.  (After Mesrine, this is actually the second film to open this week from the 2009 Rendez-vous batch!)

Ms Thompson's work (the director is shown at right) makes sweet fun of modern life among the bourgeois class, from the wealthy to the "strivers," and she seems to love -- with the exception of Jet Lag -- large ensemble casts.  She chooses her players well and draws expert performances from them all, including her son Christopher Thompson (shown at right, two photos below), who sometimes acts in her films and is her constant co-screenwriter. The filmmaker manages to nail the denial and hypocrisy of many of her characters yet sees these as only a portion of their overall humanity. We laugh at them, of course, but we enjoy them and by the end of her films, we've come to care about them rather a lot.

Le Code a changé is the original French title of this movie, which refers to the sequence of numbers you need to push in order to gain access to a building. For the hosts of the dinner party that is the centerpiece of the film, the code that allows entry into their own building has recently changed, and this provides the first (and probably the least) of the comedic problems that pile up en route.

Change of Plans exhibits a marked difference from Thompson's earlier films in that there is more melancholy on view than usual. Well, we're all getting older and (we'd like to think) wiser. While the dinner party the filmmaker offers is the key element, she moves her time frame before, during and after the event, as befits the various stories that unfold here. This little group of friends and hangers-on, initially appearing rather shallow and easy-to-anger, slowly grows into complex, understandable and likable individuals, their fallibilities not withstanding.

The connections between these people, as well as how we perceive those connections, begin to change.  By the end of this hundred-minute movie, nobody will seem quite who we imagined that he or she was, given the rather brittle opening of the film. While we're laughing throughout, eventually the laughter turns from cool and distant to something more immediate and warm.

As usual, this writer/director has coaxed together a sterling cast of eight top stars (plus several other enjoyable actors, including the very interesting Blanca Li, above, center): the always watchable Karin Viard (center right, two photos above); Patrick Bruel (center left, two photos above, and so different in this role from the recent Un Secret); Marina Fois (at left, two photos above, whom you'll hardly recognize as the same actress from The Joy of Singing and Making Plans for Lena; the hugely popular Dany Boon (below, right); Marina Hands (from Lady Chatterly and Tell No One); Emmanuelle Seigner (below, left: a little weightier here, but warmer than usual and -- can this be? -- even more alluring); and old hands Patrick Chesnais (at bottom, right) and Pierre Arditi (at bottom, left) whose initial scene together is the funniest in the film. All these actors perform like gangbusters, and Thompson has given them a lot to work with.

The connections -- involving time frame, characters and events -- that this filmmaker is able to achieve finally give her movie the weight it needs to be something more than an entertainingly brittle, lightweight comedy. You'll laugh, of course, but you'll also feel the kind of melancholic understanding that only aging in a long-term relationship (however that relationship changes) can provide.

Change of Plans, via IFC Films, opening Friday, August 27, at the IFC Center, will be simultaneously available On-Demand.  Click here to determine if and how you can get it.

Peruvian Academy Nominee finally opens: Claudia Llosa's THE MILK OF SORROW

Claudia Llosa's THE MILK OF SORROW (La teta asustada) -- a wonderfully rich and meaningful title -- was one of the five nominees for this past year's Best Foreign-Language Film (it comes to us via Peru).  That it did not win, given the Academy's Best Foreign-Language Film history, is no surprise. That it was nominated at all is encouraging. I first saw it almost one full year

ago, during the FSLC's yearly LatinBeat festival of Latin American movies.  And while it did not fully work for me at the time as a sustained piece of movie-making, neither has it left my mind for long, seemingly storing itself in some dark, back corner of my brain and popping up now and again -- which means, I would guess that this film is something of a "keeper."

What does stuffing one's own vagina with a potato indicate about the stuffer? Writer/
director Llosa (shown at left) tells us some facts, in chunks of exposition, but indicates more via the alternately withdrawn and florid performance of Magaly Solier (on the poster, top, and below), whose beauty steals men's hearts (as well as this viewer's) even as her bizarre behavior quickly pushes most of them (and us) away.

For one thing, that potato pretty well prevents coitus, which is certainly the original intent -- and which the character, Fausta, has learned from her mother (the two are shown two photos below) who was raped repeatedly back in the bad old days of Peru. We north-westerners know a bit about Chile under Pinochet and Argentina's "disappeared," but of Peru's dictatorial history, not so much. We won't learn a lot here, either, but the bits and pieces we pick up from the film will give us, at least, an idea.

The potato also represents a symbolic barrier -- to intimacy, friendship, feelings and more. As it grows its finger-like, projectile eyes, as a doctor in the film so ingratiatingly explains, it infects its host, sickening and weakening her. Holding on to the past, as we are later told, is not healthy. But after growing up with a mom like Fausta's, it could indeed be a little difficult to let go.

The Milk of Sorrow begins with some lovely singing: melodius music set to nasty lyrics that lay out the sorry events of the past. These songs fill the film, off and on, and are sung by Ms Solier, sometimes to herself, later to the bizarre, antisocial musician (shown below, left) who hires the girl to work in her home. This place of respite for Fausta, splendidly livable, is condoned off behind a wall in the midst of the throbbing life of the town.

Llosa's movie is filled with wonderful images, oddly but beautifully framed. The splendid cinematography is by -- yep -- Natasha Braier, the woman responsible for some of the best and most varied work we've seen over the past few years: In the City of Sylvia, Glue, XXY, Somers Town. (Some day, before he croaks, TrustMovies hopes to get an interview with this woman to learn a bit about how she does it!) Weddings are front and center in the movie, perhaps a tad too much so, which underscores the "clunk" factor but at least provides some interesting visuals (see below).

Familiar things -- the weddings, as well as pearls and swimming pools -- end up seeming quite singular here. But with fear of rape as the motor that drives one's life, why not? The Milk of Sorrow, symbolic, slow-moving and beautiful, does not quite coalesce, and the ending, by any standard, seems too pat. But for the work of its star Magaly Solier and Ms Braier, I would gladly see it again. Solier, by the way, is also the star of last week's debut Altiplano, in which she plays a much stronger character, though one who is equally troubled.  This actress is no only a stunning sight to see; she also possesses remarkable strength and the ability, especially in Altiplano, to say very little very quietly, while seeming to be heard around the world.

The Milk of Sorrow, from Olive Films, opens this Friday, August 27, in New York City at the Cinema Village; at Laemmle's Music Hall 3 in Los Angeles on September 3; and at the Tower Theatre in Miami on September 10.

Neil Marshall's CENTURION has it all: action, history, scope, battles, beauty and brawn

If Neil Marshall isn't one of the best action directors working today (yes, I'm assessing him as the equal of those Hong Kong boys), I'd like to know who's any better?  On the basis of his newest bon-bon CENTURION, a lean and brawny, chase-and-survival thriller set in Britain in 117 AD (that's getting specific!), Marshall has gained entry into the pantheon of smart directors who put every penny of their relatively small budget up there on screen so we can revel in the look and feel of a time long past and a place that may not have existed (not quite like this, at least) but, for the length of its 97-minute running time, utterly convinces.

With what must have been a budget about one-tenth (or less)  of the over-baked, over-sold, overlong (155-minute) Gladiator, this director, shown at left, has crafted a film that's full of story, tension, irony and unavoidable parallels to our own sorry time, yet is economically told without sacrificing a bit of credibility, beauty or budget.  It appears that whenever something, anything -- a battle, a special effect, an all-stops-out performance -- was needed, Marshall made sure it was there.

From the beautifully conceived and executed opening credits, airborne yet oddly weighty, the movie promises you something special and then delivers the goods. The plot hinges, in brief, on Roman forces fighting a collection of savage tribes known as the Picts (new to me, but, hey, I ain't no historian).

When one particular legion is surrounded and then decimated -- in typical Marshall fashion: suspense, surprise, shock-and-awe (yeah, but  from someone and his crew who, this time, actually know what they're doing) -- its leader is captured and only a few straggling survivors are left. Those stragglers now must first save that leader and then somehow get away against, yup, all odds.

This writer/director -- of Doomsday, Dog Soldiers (the best werewolf movie of the past decade) and the Descent films (he wrote but did not direct the second) -- understands pacing and how, even in a tense, chase-thriller, we need a quiet scene or two for breath-catching.  He provides us this with a couple of really well-imagined and "felt" situations. In one, the stragglers get to know one another in a smart, believable fashion. In the other, a love interest is discovered (nicely limned by Imogen Poots, above, lately of Solitary Man), yet Marshall has the savvy to take things just so far, again smartly and believably, to the point of genuine sentiment but no sentimentality.

Actors must love to work with this guy. At least he certainly draws the best from each of his cast members here. In quick, sharp strokes that register strongly, characters are drawn as events tumble over each other --and then we quickly move on.  Our hero here is played by up-and-comer Michael Fassbender (Hunger, Fish Tank, Eden Lake, Inglourious Basterds), shown running above, who is hardly recognizable, role to role. He's terrific once again: smart, genuine, decent, sexy and, oh, yes, heroic.

Equally fine is Dominic West, above (from the under-appreciated Punisher: War Zone), playing the General. This is a smaller role, but thanks to West's absolute grasp of how a leader commands via strength, power and, yes, love for his men, he captures first our respect and finally our caring.  You can easily understand why his men would sacrifice their lives in this man's charge.  Are there women in the movie? Of course, and they, too (two of them actually) span the gamut of heroine and villain. Yet even here Marshall allows us to understand and appreciate the motivations of his antagonist -- played by the rather petite Olga Kurylenko, from Quantum of Solace, here looking extremely strong and able as she discharges her duty below -- even while we continue to root for our protagonist.

The supporting cast is aces, with wonderful actors the likes of  Liam Cunningham (shown below, right, with Fassbender), JJ Feild, Ulrich Thomsen, Paul Freeman, Riz Ahmed and David Morrissey creating surprisingly full characters in very little time.  As for action, Marshall's ace-in-the-hole, it it simply great fun to follow his fight scenes. Whether they be full-fledged battles with hordes of extra (many of these perhaps done via CGI, but, if so, it sure fooled me) or man-to-man combat (and here, man-to-woman), Marshall arranges things in a manner that glues you to the screen, so swift, complicated yet still able-to-be-followed are his and his stunt/fight choreographer's moves.

Exciting, thrilling, occasionally funny and sometimes moving, Centurion is above all, great fun -- much of this due to the near-complete lack of pomposity on view, in front of and behind the camera.  Are you listening -- better yet, are you watching -- Gladiator (and other Hollywood sword-and-sandal-spectacle) makers and performers?

Centurion opens this Friday, August 27, in a limited, coast-to-coast release in twelve cities, with more to follow in the weeks to come. (In NYC, it's playing at the Angelika Film Center.) You can find all playdates, cities and theaters, here. This movie has also been available On-Demand for the past month or so, but having seen it on a large movie-theater screen, I can vouch for how very impressive visually it is in that particular venue.

All photos are from the film itself, except 

that of Mr Marshall, courtesy of UGO.com.

BAM fetes, for the next three Wednesdays, the increasingly durable Romain Duris; hot star will appear in person for an intro/Q&A

Last night at a press screening, TrustMovies introduced his 30-something daughter to French actor Romain Duris. On film, that is: She hadn't previously encountered his work.  Of course, she was smitten, as have been so many moviegoers around the world.  How can you resist this handsome, scruffy, usually unkempt young man with those big, dark eyes that seem to deepen as you look into them, who can handle comedy as adeptly as drama -- and who is even unafraid to show full-frontal, whenever disrobing is called for.

It was La Vie en Rose director Olivier Dahan who gave Duris his start back in 1994 in a film called Frères: La roulette rouge (unreleased here in the US) and again in 1998 in the more successful Déjà mort (also unseen here). But it was Cédric Klapisch, more than any other director, who brought the actor to international attention. Kapisch used him first in 1994 in Le péril jeune (aka: Good Old Daze), then in When the Cat's Away (1996), in Peut-être (from 1999, unreleased in the U.S) and then gave Duris his international breakout role in L'auberge espagnole and its follow-up Russian Dolls, and finally as the centerpiece of his 2008 Paris.

The actor has also been used well by Christophe Honoré (In Paris), Jacques Audiard (The Beat That My Heart Skipped, a photo from which is shown above), Tony Gatlif (The Crazy Stranger, Exiles and the little-seen Je suis né d'une cigogne), Benoît Jacquot (Adolphe), Laurent Tirard (Molière) and even James Ivory (in the greatly under-appreciated Le Divorce). In fact, the only time I've seen Duris used poorly was in the Patrice Chéreau misfire Persécution -- and even then the actor manages to make some sense in an otherwise befuddling movie.

Now, one of New York's indispensible repertory houses BAMcinématek will use the next three Wednesday evenings to screen five of the actor's film, beginning tomorrow night August 25, with his newest  to reach us: Heartbreaker (L'Arnacoeur, photo above), a sublime example of one of the things the French do best -- romantic comedy with an edge (sometimes a number of them).  I'll have more to say about this funny and appealing film around the time it opens theatrically in NYC and L.A. on September 10th.

Also in this series will be Audiard's The Beat That My Heart Skipped, Honoré's Dans Paris, and Klapisch's When The Cat's Away and Le péril jeune (photo above) --  the latter of which constitutes the real "find" of this group, having not been shown in the US except back in 1995 at the VCU French Film Festival in Richmond ,VA.

Meanwhile, you can peruse the entire five-film BAM/Romain Duris schedule here. Further, should you want to catch a glimpse of (or maybe even say hi to) Duris and/or Heartbreaker's director Pascal Chaumeil, both will be appearing in person at BAMcinématek for a Q&A moderated by film critic Charles Taylor at tomorrow's (Wed., 8/25) 6:50pm screening of Heartbreaker.  Duris will then stick around until the 9:30 showing of The Beat That My Heart Skipped, at which time he'll introduce that film, as well. Click here to learn how to reach BAM by bus, subway, car, phone, email....

(Photos are from the films credited, except for the 

three stills of Duris, cribbed from the web -- and  for which 

I could find no accreditation. If the photographers 

will tell me, I'll be glad to credit them and link to their sites.)

MESRINE, the Richet-Cassel, two-part, two-ticket, César winner opens at last

When TrustMovies first saw the film under consider here, the month was March of 2009, the event was the FSLC's annual Rendez-vous With French Cinema, and MESRINE (Parts One and Two) had just won César awards for both its star Vincent Cassel (below, center) and director Jean-François Richet (who co-wrote the films with Abdel Raouf Dafri).  TM wasn't bowled over by the movie (or movies) at that time -- it/they seemed alternately entertaining and overlong, interesting and cliched  -- but with 18 months between now and then, he's disposed to give the film(s) a little more of what we call "the benefit of the doubt."

Comparisons to our own Godfather series have been made, and while I was never overly enamored of those three films, either -- as usual when American filmmakers tackle the Mafia, they glamorize it, though The Godfather, Part Two rises above even that caveat -- other than the movies all being about criminals, Richet's film is not particularly comparable in any important way to Coppola's trio, except perhaps in its French/French-Canadian box-office take. In any case, here below is my slightly edited original assessment of Mesrine: Killer Instinct (part one) and Mesrine: Public Enemy #1 (part two) -- viewing theatrically the whole of which will set you back around $25. And don't expect, even at that price, 3-D.

MESRINE begins with a series of split-screen views of a couple of chary characters apparently on the run. These are accompanied by Marcus Trumpp's music, composed to ratchet up suspense. Ratchet it does. And then pushes, and pumps, and ratchets some more. By the time the sequence ends (see above, with what looks suspiciously like the climax of this entire four-hour movie), you may have realized, as did I, that instead of actually being suspenseful, this few minutes has succeeded only in working very hard to appear so. If you buy into the "suspense," however, then you'll probably buy the remainder of this super-violent, bloody, action-packed but sometimes tedious film. TrustMovies didn't buy, but he managed to rent (or maybe sublet) off and on, over the movie's very long running time.

Jacques Mesrine (according to this film, he pronounced his name May-reen, with a silent "s") was, by the end of his nearly 43-year life, Public Enemy Number One (the French subtitle of Part Two of the film) in both France and Canada, a feat he achieved after being a very nasty nuisance in Part One (subtitled, in the original French, The Instinct for Death). Richet's film catalogs his rise and rise in ways that, kindly put, are rather clichéd by now -- unless Mesrine is among the first gangster epics you will have seen. Do we really need to hear Edith Piaf regretting nothing inserted into the soundtrack toward the finale? Would we not groan aloud were Sinatra's My Way to find its way into, say, the concluson of The Godfather trilogy?

By the end of Part One, my biggest question was "Who the hell is this guy Mesrine?" He manages to "off" (in a particularly brutal sequence, below) a nasty thug/pimp who has beaten and disfigured Mesrine's ladyfriend/whore, whom our hero, in any case, has already dumped. Later, after proclaiming his ardent love, he beats and threatens his own wife with something similar. Is he perhaps bi-polar? His actions and words toward his father indicate a similar diagnosis.

For explanation, the movie nods toward Mesrine's service in the art of torture/murder as part of the French military during the Algerian War. Well, many Frenchmen were implicated in this without their becoming gang lords. Unfortunately the most interesting aspect of Mesrine's character lies either on the cutting room floor or in the blank space between Parts One and Part Two, the latter of which introduces us to a whole new guy -- a kind of Bonnie-and-Clyde-like folk hero, who still does a few too many very bad things. (In its way, the entire four-hour movie seems as bi-polar as its lead character.)

For all Cassel's manic negative energy on display, this is nothing we've not seen before -- and often: from Hate through Brotherhood of the Wolf, Birthday Girl, The Reckoning, Eastern Promises and particularly Sheitan (now there's a film in which this guy is really scary!). By the end of the movie, while we're left with another instance of Cassel doing his thing, we're barely a step or two closer to understanding M. Mesrine. So it goes with most of the other characters on display. Take Cécile De France, shown above, for instance. If you recall her from films such as A Secret, The Singer, Avenue Montaigne or Russian Dolls, you may have trouble even recognizing her here. She gives a great one-or-two-note performance without providing us with much character detail at all. First she's hard as nails, then -- boom -- she's soft and sad. It's mostly the same with the other characters: Given only a few scenes or moments, the actors make the most of them but can't begin to probe or bring much subtlety to the goings-on.

And so events typical of the film biography march, as if in lockstep, before our eyes: entry into the criminal life, adoption by the big boss, a killing here, a killing there, imprisonment (complete with nasty guards and cruel warden), the prison break (there's one in Part I and Part II, each handled well), troubles on the home front with the little woman, a later reconciliation with a child, and on and on. It's not that this is so poorly done (it's serviceable and sometimes more than that) but we've seen it all rather often over the years. And nothing here, save the violence, is given much weight. Pasting a real-life character onto these events (along with a starry cast including Mathieu Amalric (shown below, left, with Cassel), Gérard Depardieu, Canada's Roy Dupuis (above), Elena Anaya, Michel Duchaussoy, Ludivine Sagnier and others) makes the film a bit more interesting, perhaps (Mesrine's foray into the Front de libération du Québec is particularly so) but it does little for the overall arc of the story -- or its meaning and importance. I would guess that France found the film fascinating, since all but its younger generation or two lived through this and should remember it well. For some of us, however, it's mostly the usual blood-and-guts.

Note for completists: An earlier Mesrine film appeared 25 years ago, written and directed by André Génovès, and a French TV movie and documentary have popped up along the way. Though originally set to be released by a company called Senator Entertainment, for which I could at the time find no proper link and has since ceased doing business here in the States (its film division, at least), the two Mesrine movies have now been picked up for release by the smart Music Box Films, a company that has so far exhibited a canny regard for movies (the "Girl" trio) that may make some money in the art film/foreign film market.

Mesrine: Killer Instinct (Part One) opens this Friday, August 27, in a large-considering-it's-limited nationwide release.  Click here -- then scroll down for playdates, cities and theaters. Mesrine: Public Enemy #1 (Part Two) will open in similar fashion the following Friday, September 3.  Click here -- then scroll down for playdates, cities and theaters.  In the weeks following, Music Box promises that more locations will be announced. (That's the film's director,  Jean-François Richet, shown at left.)

HIGHWATER: the Brown family continues its love affair with the cinema of surfing

They do love surfing, those Browns -- father Bruce and son Dana -- as they've shown repeatedly in docu-
mentaries like The Endless Summer(s) and Step Into Liquid. Dana's back this summer with a new surfing movie titled HIGHWATER, during which the writer/
director and his crew visit the North Shore of Oahu, also known as the 7-Mile Miracle and/or the Xanadu of surfing.  Why this is and what it means to surfing and the surfers is nicely explained -- both scientifically and emotionally -- during the course of the film, in which we meet a large number of men and women who have built their lives (and sometimes those of their families) around the sport.

In Highwater, Brown fils (shown at left) returns to Oahu's North Shore to see if those big waves are still there.  The waves are there, all right, and they're great. Less so are some of this filmmaker's visual effects: speeded-up photography, slo-mo, and split screen images that, in the case of the scenic ocean vistas, rolling waves and amazing surfers, is somewhat akin to gilding the sea-lily.  Still the whole package makes for some amazing individual shots now and again, as well as some relatively interesting visits with various surfers who talk about their lives and their sport.

Along the way we learn why the Hawaiian waves on the North Shore are so huge, as well as the ways in which the area that encompasses the North Shore, and what surfers refer to as the Pipeline, has changed over the decades.  According to one fellow, the rich are continually buying up all the land and building houses, so eventually, one suspects, this will limit access to the place -- for everyone except those rich.

We learn that women -- and even young children of twelve or thirteen are now much more involved in professional surfing than was true in the movie-making days of Brown's dad.  We meet a few of these women and kids, and watch as they compete for the Triple Crown: the final three contests of the surfing year.

The men have their own contests and, as expected, much more attention is paid to them.  Later in the film we see a kind of hand-holding-in-the-ocean funeral service -- shown above -- for one surfer, Malik Joyeux, who is suddenly drowned.

After awhile, we've been introduced to so many different surfers that, for the novice surfer-watcher like me, identities begin to blur rather badly.  Certain people do stand out: Bethany Hamilton (shown below), for instance, the very pretty young blond surfer who lost an arm during a shark attack and still came back to surf again -- and surprisingly well.  Another pair of friends (just above), one of whom appears to have no legs, take their turn on boards.  

While the personalities of all these people barely come through (including that of one of the finalists--or was he a winner?--pictured below), even with the rather lengthy narration provided by the filmmaker, one of the group does indeed stand out for his reticence and mystery. This is Eric Haas, who likes to surf in odd costume and away from the crowds and competitions -- yet still seems to be among the very best of the lot.  

Toward the end of the film Brown catches some of the men speaking up about being able to earn their living doing what they love: getting paid for surfing.  One of them has managed to do this quite well.  But, as another notes, "You must be seen!"  Well, the North Shore is certainly the place to get this attention (cameras are seldom absent from the spot), and yet, what about Mr. Haas? Brown does not exactly say this, but Haas, shown below, seems to stand for  surfing on one's own -- with no PR machine, no organization behind him, no cares about competing -- simply for the love the activity.  This is accomplishment for its own sake, which exults in its own kind of success.

Highwater opens this Friday, August 27, in New York City at the Angelika Film Center and in Hawaii ('natch!) on Oahu at the Victoria Ward and the Kahala, and on Maui at the Maui Mall Megaplex. Click here for additional playdates, cities and theaters in the California -- from San Diego to San Francisco -- and Washington, then click on showtime in the drop-down menu.

(All photos are from the film, except that of 

Mr. Brown, by Jeff Vespa, courtesy of WireImage.)