Pas sur la bouche

Alain Resnais, darling of the avant garde, continues his journey back to the mainstream and, let's face it, BEYOND the mainstream, with this lush photography of even lusher decors and costumes by Vanity Fair out of Vogue. Nothing wrong with that, of course, if you can get past the hypocrisy. Here we have, set in the twenties, that old standby the second husband who has to cut a deal with his wife's ex, a sister-in-law and two ingenues thrown in for good measure with everyone breaking into song at the drop of a lorgnette. Pierre Arditi does suave as if he invented it and whether by design or accident contrives to sound like Charles Boyer on medication;Mrs. Resnais, Sabine Azema does style as effortlessly as Astaire and Audrey Tatou has cornered the current market in gorgeous. This should be enough to either encourage or deter you. 6/10

This is classic French farce, very theatrical with a 1920s score, entirely interior sets (best being the 3rd act bachelor pad) and ridiculous intertwining relationships. It is tempting to see it almost as an Amelie remake, complete with lush visuals and two leads from that film. It has the same romantic view of French life, the same emphasis on relationships, the same reliance on a sparkling performance by Tatou. It is slow, and hard to follow with subtitles - you really need to speak French to get much out of this (esp the excruiating accent of the American). Some interesting little touches - the spoken credits at the start (very Godardian!) and the way that characters leaving the stage just vanish. It is very witty, brittle and bright. A curiosity rather than a masterpiece.

Alain Resnais was extremely comfortable with opulence in 'Last Year at Marienbad', and Alain Robbe-Grillet felt right at home in this, with his serialized writing. I hadn't thought that much about this taste for luxury till I saw his 2003 film of Andre Barde's 1925 operetta, 'Pas Sur la Bouche.'

This is easily one of the lightest, most exquisite filmed musicals ever made, and quite as unexpected a thing as possible in this age. There are some modern aspects: the luxury is greater luxury than in the past, but does not ever seem like gluttony; it is not like an exhibition of 100 Burne-Jones paintings, for example, which was about the number in a 1999 exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum here--and that many at once makes one fairly sick.

All of the songs are charming, and even the one ugly one is (but only because it is only one; it is truly unpleasant to the ear and could have been styled better even with such meager material): this is the song that Eric Thomson (played by Lambert Wilson) sings with Arlette (Isabelle Nanty) when he is discovered to be doing business with George Valandray (Pierre Arditi) as well as being Valandray's wife Gilberte's (Sabine Azema) first husband (their American-produced marriage was not recognized upon her return to France, although her reasons for dissatisfaction with him are not made entirely clear). Thomson's French seems to have disappeared and he keeps responding to Arlette with "Whaddya say?" and "Whaddya know?" and this is irritating and does not even particularly form a purposeful dissonance with the rest of the graceful and casually elegant Parisian-style music. However, it is followed quickly by a group song when everyone is about to sit down to a "simple meal," which looks rather more as if composed by Escoffier or Pelleprat, and, very campily, Thomson's French reappears as if by magic as he joins all the French people in their tuneful paean to the repast they will consume (in silence, one wishes, but cannot hope for.) This "magical device" is subtle enough to be a considerable improvement over the "spontaneous" bursting into song by the wedding party at "I Say a Little Prayer for You" in 'My Best Friend's Wedding.'

The luscious orchestrations of the songs remind one of the Marguerite Monnot-Alexandre Breffort score for 'Irma La Douce'--as in "Dis-donc," and decades of this kind of sound at the Casino de Paris, at the Folies Bergere.

There is a lot of red, many plummy reds, in the lavish sets, but it is not discordant. One does notice that the film is almost entirely set in interiors, and the courtyard of witchlike (and sublimely hilarious) Mme. Foin (Darry Cowl) is about the only contact with a little remembrance of sky one sees; but this is usual for sex farce.

Everyone is involved with everyone, and it's so silly that only in the viewing does it have life; in the retelling it doesn't have a grain of substance, so I am not going to bother. The players are uniformly characterful and theatrical, and Sabine Azema is superlatively middle-aged-sexy and spirited, while Jalil Lespert has the biggest Frenchest face since Maurice Chevalier: He's truly a major talent. Audrey Tautou seems to be imitating Twiggy in 'the Boyfriend' sometimes, which is cool enough.

If I hadn't read his name on the DVD cover, I never would have suspected that this rather gushy and old fashioned musical was made by a man so closely associated with the French New Wave. In fact, the film is so far from that, that I wonder if back in the 50s and 60s, New Wave auteurs would have absolutely hated this type of film--it's so...so...unreal. And, it seems to have little to do with so many of his previous films. This isn't necessarily a bad thing--just a very surprising thing.

What I also found a bit surprising was the amount of praise some of the reviewers gave this film--especially when there are so many better French musicals out there. The songs in this film were simply not particularly interesting and the characters all seemed so bland and stereotypical. If I had to see another rich person who fretted about how hard it is to be rich or get a good sale price on a designer outfit, I was going to puke.

The bottom line is that like American musicals, not every French musical is gold. This film is not another "Les parapluies de Cherbourg" (UMBRELLAS OF CHERBOURG or "Huit Femmes" (EIGHT WOMEN) and despite the presence of Audrey Tautou, I can't see much reason to recommend it as anything other than a dull oddity.

Resnais, wow! The genius who brought us Hiroshima Mon Amour takes on the challenge of making a 1930s French musical in vibrant colour. The opening voice-over with old, embellished inter-titles was a nice touch. Then the camera aperture opens (like the old hand crankers) on a black & white placard. The camera backs off (or rather, up), suddenly showing us the surprisingly brilliant colours of an elegant table set for a tea party. This is all in the first 60 seconds.

Then the music starts. A rather banal and forgettable diddy featuring an unconvincing chorus of 3 girls blabbering some nonsense which has no relevance to the film (and yes, I speak French, so I can't blame it on the subtitles). Those characters whiz out the door and are replaced by more people who break into an even more forgettable song. Then they leave, and finally Audrey Tautou appears and we hear our first appreciable dialogue 15 minutes into the film.

I'm not sure what Resnais intended by starting off with such a yawning waste of time & musical cacophony. But the effect on the viewer is to make you want to hurl skittles at the screen and storm out. I endured.

It didn't get much better. I'll tell you why. There is absolutely no familiarity with any of the characters. We don't even see their faces half the time (as Resnais seems too intent on showing off the expensive scenery to care about the actual people in front of the camera). People flit on & off stage like moths around a lamp, and we the audience are unable to focus on any particular person or plot. It's as if you were to take every episode of the Brady Bunch and cram it into a 2 hour movie. With bad songs.

The only thing that kept me watching as long as I did (1 hour) was that I was looking at the camera techniques, lighting and scenery which were all, I admit, excellent. But is that enough to hold your attention for 2 hours? Not me. Maybe tomorrow I'll try watching the end. Aw, who am I kidding. I have more important things to do. I'm sure you do, too. Skip this.