Weekly round-upFrench baby yuks, documentary meets fiction, |
![]() HISTORICAL INANITY: Je Me Souviens by MALCOLM FRASER Commes les autres As I recently bitched to my long-suffering editor, this cinematic season has strained my ability to come up with variations on the phrase “this isn’t very good, but it’s not really that bad either.” In this case, the comedy is neither laugh-out-loud funny nor particularly clever, and the plot is just this side of utterly predictable. Wilson and de Ayala are pretty watchable, but as far as drama and audience sympathy, let’s just say that anyone who’s tired of light comedies based on fertility as a coveted yuppie accessory would be well advised to stay away. On the other hand, the film has some nice views of Paris, lots of beautiful people with stylish clothes and really swanky apartments, and a fundamental good-heartedness that saves it from degenerating into utter treacle. Expect a Hollywood remake sometime soon to make up for that. (MF) Anchored in Her World With this quasi-documentary, Langlois returns to the family who inspired his 1993 fictional film Cap Tourmente. In that film, a Québécois family is unsettled by the return of one hunky son (played by Roy Dupuis) who is lusted after by both his sister and a male visitor. To keep the plot cooking, even mom is intrigued by the prospect of incestuous relations with Dupuis. Cap Tourmente attracted some attention on the international fest circuit, prompting a Variety review to refer to Dupuis’s acting as “jeans-ad posturing.” Langlois’s return to his inspiration, Anchored in Her World, returns to the actual family who inspired his ’93 feature. It turns out to be a great big mid-life crisis home movie, as Langlois reveals he is recovering from cancer and this prompted some meditating on the family and its nonagenarian matriarch that had such an indelible impression on him. It’s strange all right, and there are some interesting observations about the thin line between fact and fiction. But Anchored in Her World too often feels detached and cool; watching it feels like witnessing Ingmar Bergman doing Reality TV. This sequel of sorts will remain of primary interest to diehard fans of Cap Tourmente. (MH) Je me souviens If I hadn’t known the director’s identity and history going in, I might have suspected I’d stumbled upon a particularly awkward student film. The clumsy shooting and editing are matched by dialogue that’s as stiffly delivered as it is leaden and head-smashingly obvious, woven around an inane and directionless plot. Rémi Girard (as a Catholic priest) and Roy Dupuis (as an Irish nationalist, in a subplot-turned-main plot that truly spins the film into WTF territory) are solid as always, but as this film demonstrates, their journeyman acting chops are confounded by a puzzling lack of quality control. Given Fortier’s resumé, I kept thinking that maybe the whole film was just one of those Québécois cultural things that anglos don’t get. But for the record, I saw the film in a theatre full of established Quebec film critics. And while some of them chuckled at the historical inside jokes, many laughed out loud at scenes clearly intended to be dramatic. And a few of them walked out. Only a sense of professional duty, mixed with masochism, prevented me from following them. (MF) No Volverán: The Venezuelan Revolution Now Don’t look for them in No Volverán: The Venezuelan Revolution Now, a new documentary by Melanie MacDonald and Will Roach, a movie that shows us the revolution of “the ever popular President Hugo Chavez” while also outlining the Don’t get me wrong—outright propaganda movies can be hugely entertaining. A film like I Am Cuba, for example, is undeniably stunning. But No Volverán doesn’t really come close to those aesthetic heights, and ultimately often feels like a one-note treatment of the Venezuelan situation. This screening will be introduced by representatives of the Consulate General of Venezuela, to no one’s surprise. (MH) NO VOLVERÁN SHOWS AT THE CINEMA |
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