Choses secrètes

This is indeed twisted as another reviewer suggest. Right from the start there is something different. And I'm not talking about the staging of the first scene (which gets you in the mood for the rest of it, with its deception, although you will be able to see through it). I'm talking about a quiet figure in the background. More about that later, because the film does focus on one specific character who's also kind of narrating the whole thing.

And while narrating might not be the best way to go, developing the story that is, it fulfills its purpose here. The young woman in question and a friend, will have quite a ride, with some nude and sexual scenes along the way. And while the drama is the focus point of it all, it does deal with where women stand in society and how they might be able to improve. Don't expect it to be too philosophical though (I personally would have liked that), but it does have an interesting personal story to tell ... with some extra flavor that it

Do you like well made movies with good acting and cinematography? Do you like trashy exploitation? If you answered yes to both of these questions then this is the movie for you. Some people are frustrated that someone would dare bring a story that belongs in a lurid paperback to screen with the former qualities, calling it cheap erotica with art-house pretensions. This is not true. "Secret Things" never overplays its hand and never asks to be taken as anything but what it is. It does not achieve things that a film like "Last Tango in Paris" does, but it doesn't try to (a good thing, given that it lacks Marlon Brando...). Instead, it tells a lurid story of manipulation and social climbing that is both quiet and operatic, sexy and repulsive. There's naked bodies present and food for thought if one is interested. A very well-made movie.

[S P O I L E R S]

Either because they were too shocking, or too bad, or just too French, Jean-Claude Brisseau's previous nine films (some just done for TV) haven't made it to the US. Choses secrètes (Secret Things) is having some limited distribution here. The film seduces initially with its intelligence and its elegant look; then it betrays us with tendentiousness, tedium, and numbing excess. If you loved Luchino Visconti's The Damned or Pier Paolo Pasolini's Salò, you will have to see this. If you respected Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut, you may want to consider Choses secrètes, which some think does its moral consideration of sex and its orgy scenes better.

Whereas Dangerous Liaisons (the Choderlos de Laclos classic as well as its various film adaptations) involves the plot of a man and a woman to demolish a powerful and wicked female, this film involves two women out to get men in general. Brisseau's Nathalie (Coralie Revel), a stripper, coaches Sandrine (Sabrina Seyvecou), a barmaid, on how they can both become powerful through exploiting their own sexual daring. They've just been fired - literally thrown out on the street - from the club where they both work for refusing to have sex with customers afterward. Nathalie persuades the naïve, penniless Sandrine to move in with her and next day outlines her plan for the two of them to conquer the Paris business world.

This is all to be done through sex, and from scene one, there's plenty of masturbation -- orgasms, real or faked, come as often as explosions in action flicks -- and plenty of nudity, but only female in each case. Nathalie's simplistic, rather old-fashioned rule is that if they can give themselves pleasure, they need never be enslaved to any man. The typically French rationality of Nathalie's exposition of her plan undercuts the obvious softcore aspects of the film - for a while, that is.

And so does Choses secrètes' splendid appearance: the beauty of the two young women is set off by handsome cinematography and a generous use of sumptuous, richly colored drapery that makes the décor a pleasure to look at. One wishes American filmmakers could generate effects of taste and elegance with such simple means. But there is more to cinema than the visuals and this movie begins to seem little more than a Vogue shoot.

Wilder and prettier: that's the two girls' selling point. On the strength of a certain provocative appeal, we're to believe, they're hired at a major financial corporation, Nathalie in personnel, Sandrine in the top administrative office. Again the film's seductive: the sudden rise may be far fetched, but you want to see what happens.

Sandrine follows Nathalie's instructions and rejects a younger executive who wants to marry her: a big mistake; but she sticks to the program. Instead of dating the sincere young man, Sandrine seduces Delacroix, the firm's married, bored fifty-year-old (but handsome and lean) manager. Delacroix falls hopelessly in love. Sandrine fakes everything. Nathalie ignores her own rules and has a secret lover who hurts her. We have to guess who he is; but it's not hard: we know that Christophe (Fabrice Deville), the aged, ill boss's son, who's heir to the corporate fortune, is a gorgeous seducer who's literally driven women to commit suicide right before his eyes - and enjoyed watching. Christophe has a preposterous back-story to explain his moral emptiness.

Things go rapidly downhill when this monster of evil begins to dominate the scene. It doesn't help that the slightly corpulent Christophe looks more like last year's model than a real person. Looks and sound effects have started to take over Choses secrètes at this point. There haven't been such scenes of elegant depravity since Visconti. But there are too many orgies with Bach and Vivaldi masses played at top volume for background. It's over the top: the film self-destructs before one's eyes. And the old-fashioned moral tale - replete with blatant titillation over the `hell' it depicts - morphs into an increasingly tedious and surreal scenario. There's an angel of annihilation, a face transfixed by death, a bird of prey pecking at a bleeding chest: we're on the wilder fringes of the French imagination. Cocteau did this sort of thing much better.

In a final scene several years later Nathalie and Sandrine, now on separate paths, have a brief final meeting. One has a wholesome life and the other has become a pampered princess: using a stretch limo to suggest the latter's wealth was a genuinely bad idea. Both women look exactly the same as ever: like this year's models. The movie has completely disintegrated. There is nothing left to care about.

But I did love the drapery in Nathalie's bedroom. It promised better things.

For an infinitely smarter and ultimately more chic French film about love games, if you don't want to go to the source, de Laclos' Dangerous Liaisons and its film versions, rent a copy of Benoît Jacquot's School of Flesh (L'École de la chair), with Isabelle Huppert at her most sublimely disdainful. Nathalie and Sandrine combined aren't fit to dust her shoes.

Nathalie (Coralie Revel) is an exotic dancer, and Sandrine (Sabrina Seyvecou) is a bartender. They get fired by their scumbag boss and move in together where Nathalie teaches Sandrine how to use her femininity to capture men. They devise a plan to move up in the corporate world using sex to succeed.

They both get hired at the same bank and set their sights on Christophe Barnay (Fabrice Deville), as he will inherit the firm one day. She has no idea how twisted he truly is.

First, Sandrine gets a position under Delacroix (Delacroix), and uses her charms to completely captivate him. She gets Nathalie moved to the office, and soon they are a menage a trois for one night, as Christophe catches them and dismisses Delacroix, while promoting the both of them to higher positions.

Sandrine becomes involved with Christophe and his sister in another menage a trois. This leads to marriage and an amazing ending after his father dies.

Brilliant cinematography and music, and a fascinating story.

The French do lyricism and erotica well, maybe it's the accents or the actors; more likely, the language itself. Mind you, had this been Demi Moore and Julia Roberts frolicking about, I'd have laughed myself silly; as it is, the two female leads - especially Sabrina Seyvecou - successfully show how powerful a currency sex appeal is. It begins as a feminist fable - the two girls thrown together at a strip club, consorting, exhibiting and daring one another to ever greater public displays of pleasurable posturing between hands and genitals -supposedly, in the belief that, with training, Sandrine can get an office job and sleep her way to the top.

Now, had this been tongue in cheek - and I'm not saying whose tongue, in whose cheek - had M Jean-Claude Brisseau, the director, used a lighter or defter touch, the sensual side would have melted our Haagen-Dazs and there could still have been a thought-provoking moral aspect, reflecting the power of, well, the femme fatale.

As it is, the film gets lost towards the end, implying that the playboy office boss is the real manipulator and the girls are mere pawns. The joyous, impish scenes when the two women dare one another to surreptitiously remove their underwear whilst seated in the subway, are long forgotten. Thankfully, Sabrina Seyvecou's natural charms are sufficient to blot out any significant disappointment. She could conquer my office any time.

I think the Haagen-Dazs has left a stain. At least, I think it's the Haagen-Dazs...