Ich kann nicht schlafen

J'ai pas sommeil gets off to a shaky start, with laughing cops and bland-faced Katerina Golubeva driving her rattle-trap Soviet car around Paris, but soon settles down to an absorbing study of greed and murder. Most of the characters are expatriates, some from eastern Europe, some from Martinique, and all are caught up in the search for happiness in a difficult environment (Paris can be hell for outsiders, as Balzac and many other artists have told us).

At first you aren't aware that it's a murder story: you don't see a woman being strangled and robbed until 64 minutes have elapsed, but Denis holds our attention with atmospheric scenes of the gay sub-culture that Camille moves in. She brings out the voluptuous, narcissistic aspects of this world very well. The performances are all good. Richard Courcet as Camille has little to say, but his body speaks eloquently. Alex Descas and Beatrice Dalle are veterans of Denis's films and are effective as the couple with a child. Theo delivers furniture by day and plays violin in a band at night; he wants to go back to his native Martinique but Mona isn't at all sure about this. Line Renaud does a great job as Ninon, the hotel manager who lovingly deals with all these star-crossed souls. I had to go to YouTube after the credits to hear Line sing Ma cabane au Canada and Frou-Frou... she is wonderful.

This film is a fictional portrayal based on the true story of Thierry Paulin, who with the help of his lover murdered twenty or so elderly women in the Montmartre area of Paris, during the eighties. He was known as the "granny killer." What I think confused the viewer who commented before me was the following: The United States has created a crime genre in which the detectives are heroes and the murderers are detestable yet mysterious. In a way, the pleasure in these films comes from watching the murderer act out our unconscious aggressions without our having to admit any identification with him. Claire Denis tried for a truer, more sociological portrait of the situation. She attempted to show the murderer's daily life and interactions with his community in a fashion that proved that, in some ways, he was no different than any other human being. There are no heroes or villains in this film, just a group of immigrants interwoven by the forces of urban life, and one of them happens to be a murderer. The film is a demystification of the "noir" genre. Since people are so used to seeing crime portrayed according to the usual formula, this film can be confusing at first glance. But the achievement of this film is monumental because it manages to draw us into the intimate life of a murderer without hyperbole and without demonizing him. It abandons the sensationalism created by the media to bring us face to face with a real situation.

"I Can't Sleep" opens with a shot of policemen laughing in a helicopter above Paris, a scene Denis says has no narrative function. The helicopter doesn't blow up or crash (as we half-expect, so Hollywood-trained we have become). We never learn why they are laughing, and it never comes up. but it immediately sets a tone of ordinariness about something that is so freighted with allusion - that police work is all dark violence and angst and frayed tension. Police work also includes ordinary moments between two people.

"I Can't Sleep" follows three sets of characters who come to be loosely linked. First is Daïga (Katerina Golubeva, an unknown with an exotic resemblance to Michelle Pfeiffer) who drives away from Lithuania and into the Paris ring in her boxy, smoking car. She has only vague ideas about what she wants other than to let Paris wash over her life. for the time being, she finds a tenuous niche in the émigré community working indifferently as a maid in a second rate hotel. Among the hotel's residents is Camille (another unknown, Richard Courcet as a drag hoodlum with a brooding boredom) who, with his friends and lovers, leads us through the gay subculture. And there is Theo, Camille's good brother who struggles the struggle of the unFrench emigrant class in neoconservative France. As we stay with these characters, we see a Paris that isn't a backdrop to romantic comedies like "Forget Paris" or "French Kiss." In the course of "I Can't Sleep" we get a sense of the shape of some of the other kinds of lives that are lived in Paris. We begin to move to the film's rhythm. At intervals are arresting set pieces that attenuate reaction. These subtle departures don't break the film's basic form, but they do break the mood of the expected. We get to laugh and be aware that we are laughing. We marvel at small things and know we are marvelling at them.

In "I Can't Sleep," newspaper headlines scream about a sociopath who is going around murdering and robbing solitary old women (based on a true case). Denis illustrates for us what we know to be true - that mostly people are unaffected. Everyone's lives continue to be lived routinely, each with their own personal life traumas that fill their days. By chance, the murders intersect our characters' lives and we see their reactions to it. There aren't any obvious cues for us. We watch Daïga as she learns who the murderer is. What she does and what happens as a result is less important than the almost wordless scene they share when she follows him. Something essential passes between them, but what that is is up to you. It's as much based on the experience you can bring to it and what abstractions you can add to the moment. Likewise, Theo's face is a dispassionate mask - it begs us on to project our reactions to his life circumstances.

This is a tenuous connection, a lot for Denis to ask of her audience, and it may not engage many or even most of those sitting out there. In a way, you have to have a ready state of mind to watch it. It reminds me most of Kryzysztof Kieslowski's "Red" and the conversations I had about it. More than a few friends said they couldn't suspend their qualms about the believability of the relationship between Jean-Louis Trintignant's character and Irene Jacob's. It was too far from convention (age difference) and lacked a believable basis (he was just a weird old guy, and what did they share anyway?). But for me, I loved it because his character seemed the tragic sum of all the characters I have seen Trintignant play (especially in "A Man and A Woman," "Z," "The Conformist" among others). Here was the same good man, now ruined at an advanced age, and I was meeting him again. I felt I understood him fundamentally, knew what he had gone through to reach this sour moment in his life and because of this, it was easy for me to project my understanding onto Jacob's character. I thought, "Of course she loves him."

Anyway, "I Can't Sleep" is, at its best moments, a collage of sometime odd elements that is somehow perfectly composed (like in "Paris, Texas" and "Wings of Desire," and in Kieslowski, especially, "Red" and some of the Dekalog episodes like "Thou shalt not bear false witness"). One can't explain why it seems right, but everyting certainly does feel just right - the film is conjured from single notes that together comprise a whole score. There is what seems like extraneous stuff in there. You wonder how it fits, what it really means. Yet, it nevertheless feels right once the whole has been digested.

Writer-Director Claire Denis is telling a pretty strange tale in her "J'ai pas sommeil." Reportedly inspired by real-life news events, the focus is on an unsavory series of murders in a large French city, and various people somehow related to these happenings. These folks do not all know one another or even, in some cases, come in contact with each other. More strangely, Denis incorporates a few people who don't seem to be related to the events at all. The film's structure is free form, and various scenes are deliberately presented in a disjunct manner. There is some interest generated in trying to figure out what's going on, and in fact, there are a couple of coldly frightening scenes of calculated murder. I found myself not being attracted to nor empathizing with any of these characters. I merely observed with some interest. The general viewer response will depend on personal preferences. All in all, I found this ultimately to be a very slightly above average film work.

You might have to be a foreigner to understand the plight of not belonging to the main culture of a country. The characters portrayed are deracine from their native countries, attracted by the promised land of capitalism, functioning mainly in the twilight hours of Paris, where they are mainly prey for sexual predators. Exploitation of these immigrants continue as it was in colonial times, except this time is not so overt. The illusion of freedom is thin. The impossibility of communication thick. Interacial affairs doomed, as are their children. Pretty bleak, but portrayed with sensitivity by Denis who shows us the underside and post effects of colonialism in contemporary Paris.