Rendez-Vous ’18: Before Summer Ends

Ah, home sweet oppressive regime. Iranian expatriates like these three grad students have a complicated relationship with their homeland. As one puts it, he feels more at home in Iran, but he is more like the person he wants to be in France. When one of the trio decides to return home, his two mates convince him to take one last (or rather first) road trip together in Maryam Goormaghtigh’s Before Summer Ends (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema.

Arash is a big fellow, who was apparently spoiled by his family in Iran. Perhaps not surprisingly, Ashkan and Hossein adapted better to life in Paris, especially the latter, who married a French woman. When Arash announces his plan to return, his friends try to talk him out of it, yet they obviously understand his decision. Nevertheless, they will have one last hurrah of easily accessible beer and wine, while camping out and carousing along the French Riviera.

Reportedly, Goormaghtigh originally intended to make a documentary about the refugee experience (because there are hardly any of those already), but the three expat friends just captured her filmmaking enthusiasm. Indeed, it is quietly compelling to watch them navigate their in-between expatriate existences: not citizens, not asylum-seekers, not illegal aliens, nor stateless fugitives.

Although filmed direct-documentary-style, Before often has the feel of a chatty Richard Linklater indie-road-comedy, especially when two French indie-rockers start tagging along. However, serious issues are always percolating right below the surface. In fact, we eventually learn Arash is not the only one who will have to make hard-and-fast residency decision.

The trio, simply credited as Arash, Ashkan, and Hossein (which is telling in itself), crack their share of scatological jokes, but they also have some shrewd insights to offer. Perhaps the resemblance between the geography of the south of France and the north of Iran put them in a conducive head-space. In any event, we certainly feel like we know them when the film finally runs its course.

Before Summer Ends is a small film, but it has some wry nuggets of wisdom to offer. Considering how much they enjoy their potent potables, it is hard to imagine the three amigos could re-acclimate to life in contemporary Medieval Iran, but they themselves suggest they are very different people in their native country. Recommended for those in the mood for a lowkey film that still has substance, Before Summer Ends screens tomorrow afternoon (3/17), as part of French Rendez-Vous ’18, at the Walter Reade.

Rendez-Vous ’18: Waiting for the Barbarians

Surrender your electronic devices. That is the first thing the aesthetically singular Eugène Green would have us do to escape the influence of the barbarian hordes. It is probably good advice. Although a prolific filmmaker, his heart famously remains in the Baroque era. However, he conflates both Medieval times and our current era in Waiting for the Barbarians (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema.

Green just isn’t working towards the same goals of other filmmakers. Influenced by the Baroque dramatic tradition, Green’s films embrace and amplify the artificial nature of the theater (and cinema) rather than attempt to create an illusion of verisimilitude. When they work, they still create a rapturously beautiful canvas upon which his narratives play out—La Sapience and The Portuguese Nun being prime examples, whereas The Son of Joseph was a weirdly smarmy misfire we shall henceforth pretend never happened. Barbarians is something of a return to Spartan form for Green, even though it may very well be his most demanding film yet.

Produced as part of a workshop, Barbarians is experimental in its ethos. Six modern-dress refugees fleeing unseen barbarians hordes take refuge with a Medieval Mage and his wife, the Magess. However, right from the start, it appears doubtful the barbarians really exist. They are just projections of our modern anxieties. Perhaps the six asylum-seekers will come to understand this when they finally start talking honestly among themselves. They will also have help from the ghost of the Mage’s daughter, who died tragically young, as well as the Arthurian parable their hosts stage as a play for their guests’ edification.

Obviously, this will appeal to a very narrow stratum of cineastes, but for the open-minded, the hushed, airless vibe is quite arresting. Despite the minimalist production, Green’s faithful cinematographer, Raphaël O’Byrne gives it an evocative glow. The cast also adapts to Green’s rigorous style quite well. Indeed, he demands a deceptive deadpan that is outwardly stoic, yet suggests the speaker is connected to things much deeper and mysterious than are dreamt of in our philosophy.

Green is not exactly inclined to hand the audience his takeaways on a silver platter. Yet, this film seems like a subtle rebuke to those who would live in perpetual fear and outrage focused on the Trumps and Le Pens of the world. Clearly, the Mages suggest the best way to counter barbarism is to live a rich, productive, and cultured life, but that means we must refocus from without to within. Or perhaps not. Implying meaning on Barbarians could be an endless parlor game for an intrepid few. Recommended as a rebound for Green’s elite followers, Waiting for the Barbarians screens tomorrow (3/13) and Friday (3/16), as part of French Rendez-Vous ’18, at the Walter Reade.

Rendez-Vous ’18: See You Up There

There is nothing fake about the WWI military service of Albert Maillard and Edouard Péricourt—they have the scars and disfigurement to prove it. However, the war memorials they peddle are as phony as a three-Franc note. As far as Péricourt, the disillusioned artist is concerned, it is exactly what the public deserves for their fake sympathy. Maillard is less convinced, but he will be passively carried along with the scheme in Albert Dupontel’s See You Up There (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema.

As Maillard explains to the interrogating Algerian police officer, nobody wanted to die when they knew armistice was imminent, but their commanding officer, Lt. Henri d’Aulnay-Pradelle was a truly evil jerk, who had to get in one last battle, in blatant defiance of his orders. In fact, Maillard sees the incriminating evidence—two French scouts shot in the back—before d’Aulnay-Pradelle blew their bodies apart. Péricourt rescues Maillard from a premature burial, but loses the better part of his jaw for his efforts.

At Péricourt’s behest, Maillard switches his identity with that of a former ward of the state killed in action, sparing him a presumably painful reunion with his severely judgmental father. Péricourt remains in a morphine-laced depression, until a friendship with the neighboring orphan girl and his dodgy war memorial plan rejuvenate his spirits. As fate would have it, his father will unwittingly help fund the con and become its biggest sucker.

In terms of visual style, SYUT is so grandly baroque, it could pass for the work of Jean-Pierre Jeunet. The narrative itself is a grubby tale of swindles and payback, but Dupontel gives it epic sweep. There are even gothic elements, such as the flamboyant masks Péricourt crafts for himself that evoke the Phantom of the Opera.

Dupontel is his own best collaborator, playing Maillard as a poignantly nebbish everyman. He is also rather touching when courting the Péricourt family’s maid, Pauline, who should be well out of his league, since she is played by Mélanie Thierry, but whatever. As the masked Péricourt, Nahuel Pérez Biscayart impressively expresses much through body language and his eyes. Niels Arestrup is as reliable as ever gruffly but sensitively portraying Old Man Péricourt, while Laurent Lafitte (of the Comédie Française) chews the scenery with relish as the irredeemable Lieutenant. Yet, the film wouldn’t be the same without André Marcon biding his time as the sly colonial gendarme.

See You Up There is a richly realized period production, but it is also a wickedly effective anti-war movie. Hollow platitudes sound especially disingenuous in French. It is a bold film best seen on the big screen, but it certainly never romanticizes Jazz Age Paris. Very highly recommended, See You Up There screens this Tuesday (3/13) and the following Sunday (3/18) , as part of French Rendez-Vous ’18, at the Walter Reade.

Rendez-Vous ’18: The Lion Sleeps Tonight

Jean-Pierre Léaud is probably the most recognizable French actor—maybe ever—thanks to his performances in classic Truffaut and Goddard films, as well as The Last Tango in Paris, which people keep watching assuming it will be something it isn’t. This time around, he follows in John Malkovich’s footsteps playing a meta version of himself, who plays a meta version of himself in an amateur film produced by a group of school children on vacation. They do not recognize old “Jean,” but the creaky house he is staying in certainly looks haunted to them, because it really is haunted by his former lover in Nobuhiro Suwa’s The Lion Sleeps Tonight (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema.

Léaud was supposed to be reuniting with a celebrated co-star, but her diva behavior put the production on hold. Frankly, that is fine by him. He had been struggling with an upcoming scene would have forced him to confront his mortality. However, he will do exactly that, in a more oblique way when he takes advantage of the hiatus to visit the mothballed home of a deceased lover, Juliette de Garron. It is not clear whether it was an accident or suicide, but either way, the net result was her premature death in the early 1970s. Yet Jean finds that she has been waiting for him in that house, all that time.

In a twist of fate, a group of local children had been drawn to the house as the setting for their scrappy haunted house film. At first, Jean scares them away, but he welcomes them in soon thereafter. They rather amuse him and their youth is a healthy influence for someone regularly conversing with the dead.

If Olivier Assayas’s Personal Shopper had been reconceived as a children’s film halfway through production, it might have a vibe similar to Lion Sleeps Tonight. There really are not any scary moments in the film, but the scenes in which Jean faces de Garron’s ghost have a breathlessness that is quite arresting.

Frankly, Suwa struggles to marry up the evocative stillness of the haunted passages with the spirited interactions with the Goonie-style children. It is a bit frustrating, because they both have their merits. The one constant is a world-weary but still rather game Léaud. He is definitely a good sport and he has moments that would do his old mentor Truffaut proud. Many of those come opposite the ethereal-looking and altogether extraordinary Pauline Etinene, as the ghostly de Garron.

Lion Sleeps Tonight is an uneven film, particularly in terms of tonal shifts, but it is just too interesting to miss. It will be impossible to survey his storied career without substantially analyzing this film. Cinematographer Tom Harari makes it one of the sunniest ghost movies ever, but he nicely differentiates the twilight meetings shared by Jean and de Garron. Recommended for patrons of French cinema, who will appreciate Léaud’s legacy, The Lion Sleeps Tonight screens this Friday (3/9) and the following Thursday (3/15), as part of French Rendez-Vous ’18, at the Walter Reade.