La cautiva

This is a subtly faithful interpretation of Proust's The Prisoner in which Chantal Akerman makes chasers and voyeurs out of her viewers, craning to see around street corners, straining to make out desired shapes behind warped glass. While the camera pursues the truth about Ariane, who seems to be forever drifting away, we remain fixed in the claustrophobic world of Simon's preoccupied anxiety. As did Proust, Akerman opens a space for the exploration of co-dependent attachment, not only love, and the painful reality of the search for self- avoidance. The Prisoner leaves the viewer caught between the (apparent) bliss of Ariane's ignorance and Simon's monomaniacal certainty. For me, this is the closest French cinema has come (up to now) to bottling the elusive Albertine scent. The silent film reel that plays during the film's opening too recalls the playful beaches of Balbec In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower, foreshadowing undoing and tragedy. A film for anyone who understands obsession.

Though maintaining a very low-key tone, this immediately looks and feels so very different from Chantel Akerman's earlier films ('Je tu il elle,' 'Les rendez-vous d'Anna,' and especially 'Jeanne Dielman') that I had to periodically check to make sure I was watching the right movie, and one of hers. Music is prominent at intermittent points (very much enriching the proceedings whenever it does crop up), and the soundtrack is generally kind of busy; the camera moves, and the narrative on mind is much more discrete, active, and dynamic than has been the case elsewhere with Akerman. Yet this is invariably of the same high quality one expects from the filmmaker, exquisitely crafted with all the skill and intelligence we know she possessed. It may not be readily appealing for those who seek quicker gratification from cinema, but whether one is a fan of Akerman specifically or just looking for a good, subdued drama, 'La captive' is excellent.

This retains to some extent, within the framework of a slightly more conventional drama, the minimalism that the filmmaker had mastered early in her career. There is rather little going on in a scene at any given time, and the acting is kept at a very controlled, muted tenor. Be that as it may, as director Akerman orchestrates shots and scenes with the same keen artistic eye she had shown from the start, and the feature is curious and engrossing right away. Sabine Lancelin echoes the broad airs of quiet refinement with cinematography that's crisp and vivid in capturing every shot, making the viewing experience all the more pleasing. This is all the more true in light of gorgeous filming locations, and exquisite production design and art direction, that pop out with terrific color and elegance; naturally the hair, makeup, and costume design are just as splendid, if less prevalent.

Above all, however, Akerman has conjured a story that's a bit dark and haunting in a way, and roundly intriguing and captivating. 'La captive' is thought-provoking as pensive Simon, controlling to the point of abuse, nonetheless flounders when he realizes he doesn't know everything about Ariane, and never could. Perplexing as it may be that Ariane willingly attached herself to Simon, genuine affection can't withstand the disparity between them. Both characters are shrewdly complicated, and the dialogue between them, or in Simon's attempts to gain more understanding, is absorbing in and of itself. The scene writing is stark and unexpectedly bewitching in the hushed buzz of tension that underlies this central relationship, from the coldness of early scenes to the more heightened drama of the last stretch. It's a great credit to Sylvie Testud, Stanislas Merhar, and (in a smaller supporting part) Olivia Bonamy that they infuse so much nuanced range and depth of emotion into their roles in light of what is mostly so restrained a picture, and this couldn't have the underhanded potency that it does without them.

Even Akerman's most highly acclaimed and well known movies are unquestionably best suited for a select audience. While this one bears more similarity in some ways to titles that most viewers would be more familiar and comfortable with, it's nonetheless still quite understated, and without even taking the subject matter into consideration it won't appeal to all. For my part I wouldn't necessarily say that it's as strong as some of Akerman's other works, either, though that's just a matter of personal preference. Him and haw as one might about the particulars, however, all the same I think this is very well done, a finely made, engaging, and satisfying exploration of a fraught relationship. It may not be something one needs to go out of their way to see, but if you do have the opportunity to watch then 'La captive' is well worth two hours of one's time as far as I'm concerned.

So many loud and shouting films, so much moving. This movie makes you calm down and should make you think. Aside from the literary background, which I didn't know when watching the movie, I found La Captive very intense and inspiring. If you are in a depressed state of mind, it might not be the right movie to watch. But anyway, then there is at least the great acting and the beautiful camera. My companion wanted to leave, but I resisted and it was worth it.

Because of its complex and introspective nature, the works of the great French novelist Marcel Proust have been difficult to translate to the screen in spite of some very fine attempts by Raul Ruiz and others. Chantal Akerman's La Captive is no exception. Inspired by the fifth of seven volumes of Proust's epic novel In Search of Lost Time, the film captures the obsessive quality of the relationship between Simon (Stanislaus Merhar) and Ariane (Sylvie Testud) (Marcel and Albertine in the novel), but is unable to project onto the screen the novel's exquisite prose, psychological subtlety, or depth of feeling. While Simon is given a thoughtful treatment, he comes across more as strange and unpleasant than the deeply sensitive, poetic young man of the book.

La Captive begins at home with Simon viewing films of Ariane and some friends during their summer together in Normandy. Repeatedly viewing the footage, he carefully utters the words "I really like you," but it is unclear if the sentiment is his, or if he is vocalizing what he imagines to be the thoughts of his mistress. Set in Paris, Akerman updates the story from its turn of the century milieu and transports it to the modern era with automobiles and well-lit boulevards filled with traffic replacing the horse and carriage. Simon is a somber, well-to-do young man who lives in an ornate Paris apartment with his grandmother (Francoise Bertin), housekeeper Francoise (Liliane Rovére), and girlfriend Ariane (Sylvie Testud).

Though they claim to love each other, each keeps their distance. Ariane lives in an adjacent room and only comes to see Simon when he sends for her in an ongoing ritual. Dialogue is sparse and mostly consists of Simon asking Ariane questions that elicit noncommittal responses such as "if you like," "I can't say," or "you think so?" Mimicking Bressonian models, the actor's facial expressions range from enigmatic to blank, and, aside from some perfunctory kissing, the only time that passion shows up is when Simon rubs up against Ariane's body while she is asleep (or pretending to be). When Simon demands to know what Ariane is thinking, she replies, "If I had any thoughts, I'd tell you—but I don't." Some situations would be comical if they were not sad. As Simon watches Ariane from an adjoining bathroom while sitting in his tub, he tells her how much he admires the odors between her legs and says that if it weren't for his illnesses, he would rather that she would never wash. On another occasion, he probes to find out the number of lies she has told him, insisting that two lies are not enough, he wants at least four. The jealous and insecure Simon has accumulated evidence in his own mind that Ariane is physically attracted to women but it is not made clear (either in the novel or the film) whether his suspicions are real or imagined.

Nonetheless, Simon is preoccupied by the part of Ariane's life that he believes she is withholding from him, following her in an art gallery and physically removing her from a performance of Carmen at the Trocadero out of his fear of her friendship with the actress Lea (Aurora Clément). When Simon is unable to leave the house because of an asthmatic condition, he assigns their mutual friend Andrée (Olivia Bonamy) to track her whereabouts and report back to him. He even goes so far as to question lovers Sarah (Bérénice Bejo) and Isabelle (Anna Mouglalis) about what they think about when they make love.

Although the characterizations in La Captive are very real and quite haunting, the film covers only a small portion of Proust's fifth volume, omitting the colorful characters that make it so special: Charlus, Morel, the Verdurin's, Brichot, and Mme de Guermantes to name a few, and there is no hint of the music, society, and themes of memory, nature, and awareness of time and place that dominate the narrative. Though the pacing is deliberately slow to capture the enigmatic quality of the relationship, the film, while absorbing, is static and does not draw us deeply enough into its mysteries to compensate for its dramatic inertness.

Modern day adaptation of a section of Proust's magnum opus that is true enough to the book in its theme and events and interestingly has the Marcel character still sunk in an archaic, aristocratic world.

KD Lang lookalike Stanislas Merhar does a good job doing the insulated, emotional (and physical) frailty, trapped in an adolescent infatuation of towering poetic naivety, all the while consumed with jealousy by the suspicion that his live-in girlfriend is an active lesbian behind his back.

It's slow. There's a lot of prowling around his creaking Paris apartment, lots of talking in cars - we seem to be taking entire journeys in real time. Akerman gave herself an easy directing job. The use of classical music is lazy - Schubert's Arpeggione Sonata is suitably Proustian, but Rachmaninov's Isle of the Dead is absurdly melodramatic, especially when played incongruously, Godard-fashion, over serene images.

Those familiar with the writer and director can easily pull back the gauze to reveal the real issues - an inverted couple struggling to maintain a hetero relationship - but that is so superficial it hardly seems worth special effort and the film works better with the ambiguity in place (as intended), with the implication that naivety (misunderstanding, confusion) is at the root of jealous passion. The Marcel character is so naïve that in the sex scenes he doesn't even know that he is supposed to put it in - doing the movements without getting undressed (he's in bed in his overcoat in one scene). That was strangely tragic, and although it may have been a stylisation to symbolise their failure to connect, it was easier to take it literally.

With liberties like that though, and done so earnestly, it's craves some indulgence. The worst problem is that the girl is comatose and unattractive, showing nothing of Albertine's sprightliness and guile that gave that character her painful duplicity. The ending too is a disappointment.