Rendez-Vous ’17: Right Here Right Now

It is never just business at AB Finance. Sure, the partners want to make pots of money, but it is also always personal for them (and often rather petty). It is an intimidating office culture, but Nora Sator’s elbows might be sharp enough for her to survive in Pascal Bonitzer’s Right Here Right Now (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Rendez-Vous with French Cinema in New York.

Sator has no problem with cutthroat business practices, per se. It is the revelation AB’s partners once knew her failed academic father that disturbs her. Neither the slimy Arnaud Barsac or the eccentrically muddled Prévot-Parédès (PP) want to elaborate, but it is clear their dubious friendship with Serge Sator ended in a manner that caused her father great embarrassment. Barsac’s boozy wife Solveig understands what happened better than anyone, much to her bitter regret.

The notion she might have been hired out of guilt concerns Sator, but it will not stop her from making an ambitious power play, straight out of the gate. She will try to broker a blockbuster merger for a skeptical new “show me” client, with the reluctant help of Xavier, the colleague she just leap-frogged. Of course, an attraction will grow between him and Sator during those long nights pouring over financials, making him regret passive-aggressively putting the moves on her hipster sister, Maya.

As critiques of capitalism go, RHRN is about as effective as the old Dynasty TV show. Bonitzer probably couldn’t explain what a P/E ratio measures, but he gives us plenty of scenes featuring well-manicured characters verbally sawing each other off at the knees, while swilling top-shelf liquor. In other words, it is a lot of fun.

Nobody imbibes more than Solveig Barsac, but the great Isabelle Huppert makes her the most complex, multi-dimensional figure in the entire film. She is a hot mess with killer attitude and an acute conscience. Whenever she is on-screen, she kicks the film up a notch or two, as you wouls probably expect.

Lambert Wilson is no slouch either as the unrepentant Barsac, while Pascal Greggory brings a completely unpredictable element of WTF-ness as PP (he’s obsessed with Banyan trees, just so you know). Julia Faure helps humanize the ruthless melodrama as Maya, the artistic sister, whereas Agathe Bonitzer’s analytical sister is an ice queen with intelligent presence (adding a meta element in this pseudo-Freudian tale, helmed by her father). On the downside, Vincent Lacoste’s Xavier, the caddish co-worker is so shallow and boring, it is impossible to see how either sister could be attracted to him (and his working-class insecurity is the sort of cliché you would find in a 1970s Harold Robbins novel).

So, both Robbins and Dynasty get name-checked in a review of a French Rendez-Vous selection—then you know it must be good. Bonitzer’s dialogue is razor sharp and his ensemble clearly savors every cutting word. Recommended for those who enjoy scandal and naked ambition, Right Here Right Now screens this Friday (3/10) and Sunday (3/12) at the Walter Reade, as part of the 2017 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema.

Rabid Dogs: The French Canadian Bava Remake

For years, Mario Bava’s roughie kidnapping thriller was bottled-up unseen in court due to insolvency and estate issues. Some staid bankruptcy judge must have really gotten an eyeful if he ever had to watch it. The sexual violence is toned down, but human nature is just as sinister in Éric Hannezo’s French Canadian remake of Rabid Dogs (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Although he was indelibly associated with the genre, Bava’s Rabid Dogs was not a Giallo, per se. However, Hannezo certainly gets his Giallo money’s worth during the throwback opening credit sequence. Four armed robbers have executed a daring daylight bank heist, but there will soon be only three of them. With their getaway plans in disarray, the bandits take two hostages, but they will quickly be left with only one. However, the elegant married woman is certainly an effective bargaining chip. The cops back off after the accidental death of the first hostage, allowing the criminals to slip out of the commercial district. Unfortunately, their escape involves further hostage taking.

The poor carjacked father was taking his daughter to the hospital for a long-awaited transplant. Still, he is pretty cool under pressure, all things considered, but he is played by Lambert Wilson, so it rather follows. Blessedly, her medication should keep her zonked out throughout the ordeal. In the short term, the creepy Vincent’s rapey fascination with the woman hostage will cause most of the problems. Sabri, their new de facto leader will try to restrain him, but the woman is clearly looking to bolt at the first opportunity.

For those familiar with the original, Hannezo and co-screenwriters Benjamin Rataud and Yannick Dahan dispense with the hitchhiker sequence, which sure lightens it the heck up. However, they add a really weird “Burning Man”-style gathering, as Ben Wheatley might re-conceive it.

In addition to their famous names and class value, Wilson and Virginie Ledoyen add plenty of brooding tension to the film. Ledoyen elevates the woman beyond typical victims, emphasizing her proactive assertiveness. (The film is still a far cry from a feminist manifesto, but what can we expect, given its exploitation lineage.) Guillaume Gouix, Franck Gastambide, and François Arnaud all lose their cool quite spectacularly as the robbers. However, cult film fans might not realize that is Alleluia’s Laurent Lucas as the ringleader, since he dons the gang’s intimidating, vaguely S&M looking motorcycle helmet for most of his scenes.

Rabid Dogs is not for those like their mysteries cozy and their endings neat and pat. This is a messy film in just about every respect and it packs a mean punch. For those who feels like stepping over to the dark side, it is a lot of twisted, anti-social fun. Recommended with enthusiasm for connoisseurs of gritty, nervy genre fare, Rabid Dogs opens this Friday (1/21) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Hollow Crown: Shakespeare’s Henriad

The House of Plantagenet had a good run, but their dynasty would not last forever.  You can blame Richard II.  His fall and the rise of his Lancaster cousins provided ample inspiration for Shakespeare’s three king-four play cycle known as the Henriad.  Executive producer Sam Mendes and three of Britain’s leading stage directors adapted the Richard and Henry plays for television as The Hollow Crown (promo here), which premieres on PBS this Friday as part of the current season of Great Performances.

Richard II begins with the title monarch on the throne, but that may soon change.  Callous and erratic, Richard is a sad excuse for king.  Nonetheless, the nobility has maintained their loyalty.  Richard’s own actions will drive many lords into rebellion, starting with the precipitous banishment of Henry Bolingbroke.  When the King confiscates the estate of his late uncle, Bolingbroke’s father, John of Gaunt, he pushes the Earl of Northumberland and his associates into rebellious conspiracy.

A bit of a slow starter, Richard II might be the weakest link of the Crown.  However, it exceeds viewer expectations for one of the marquee Henriad highlights, when Patrick Stewart knocks John of Gaunt’s “This England” soliloquy out of the park.  The stout Rory Kinnear and David Morrissey also bring an appropriately Shakespearean physicality to Bolingbroke and Northumberland, respectively.  Unfortunately, Ben Whishaw’s sickly, petulant presence poorly serves the villainous Richard.  Even more problematic is Richard II director Rupert Goold’s depiction of the deposed tyrant through Christ-like imagery.

Bolingbroke is now Henry IV, but he plays more of a supporting role in the two plays that bear his name: Henry IV Parts 1 and 2.  The King has an heir to succeed him, but has little confidence in the free-spirited Prince Hal.  The future Henry V would rather carouse with the disreputable Sir John Falstaff than worry about affairs of state.

Succeeding Kinnear as Henry IV, Jeremy Irons gives one of his best performances in years, acutely conveying the burdens of guilt, command, and fatherhood.  Likewise, Tom Hiddleston relishes the roguishness of Prince Hal, while also convincingly growing in stature once Henry V ascends the throne.  As director of both parts of Henry IV, Richard Eyre makes amends for misfiring with The Other Man.  He seems to love Falstaff even more than Welles did, but Simon Russell Beale looks so haggard and dissipated as the jolly fellow, viewers will fear he might keel over, well before his character’s spirit is broken.

Renouncing his wild past, Henry V turns his attention towards France in the Henriad’s conclusion, which should particularly interest Francophiles because of the presence of Lambert Wilson as the King of France and Mélanie Thierry as his daughter, Princess Katherine.  Hiddleston’s courtship scene with Thierry has considerable charm, but Henry V director Thea Sharrock strangely underplays the St. Crispin’s Day speech, perhaps hoping to avoid comparison with Branagh’s rendition.

Shot on some notably picturesque locations, Hollow Crown opens up Shakespeare quite cinematically.  While there is a considerable editorial hand at work, the language is never dumbed down.  It is a smart way to present the Bard on television, with discrete productions that still have the continuity of a mini-series.  The all-star cast should be of particular interest to fans of Downton Abbey (due to the too briefly seen Michelle Dockery and Glen).  It is a great looking period piece, buttressed by a number of fine performances.  Recommended for patrons of classical theater and fans of British television, The Hollow begins this Friday (9/20) and continues for the next three Fridays on most PBS outlets nationwide.