La femme du Vème

Watch this with a group and have a great discussion on questions like: What happened in that movie? What was that about? How much of the content was symbolic and how much of it was actually concrete?

Or watch it alone and become miserably confused.

If you enjoy a movie with loads of atmosphere that leads you deeper and deeper into a complex mystery, and then refuses to give easy answers, then you will love "The Woman in the Fifth" - I know I do.

An American writer, Tom Ricks (Ethan Hawke), arrives in Paris to try to meet with his daughter. His ex-wife immediately calls the police and we realise that there has been some ugly history between them.

Broke, Tom is given a room in a seedy hostel in exchange for taking a job as a nightwatchman in the basement of a strange building. At a literary gathering he meets Margit Kadar (Kristen Scott Thomas). Margit lives in the fifth arrondissement - the woman in the fifth - and they have an affair. His life starts to take unexpected turns. At the hotel, he also has an affair with a young Polish waitress, and a confrontation with the aggressive man in the next room. All the while, trying various ways to see his daughter.

By the end of the film there has been a murder, a kidnapping, and revelations about Margit Kadar that reveal that all is not right with Tom Ricks. Not much is explained at the end - the last scene leaves us wondering.

Movies that blur the line between what is real and what is being imagined have been around for a while now. Back in the days of Film Noir it usually turned out that it was all just a dream - a not too satisfying resolution that quickly became trite. However, over the last couple of decades, movies that blur the line have become much trickier.

The process in more recent times may have started with movies that are not exactly ghost stories, but feature people who don't know they are dead. A forerunner was "Carnival of Souls" in 1962, but Haley Joel Osment in "The Sixth Sense" wasn't the only one to see dead people, they popped up in "Jacob's Ladder", "The Others", "Passengers", and "November" to name a few.

Then there are the split personalities - the cinematic interpretation of schizophrenia. David Lynch's films, "Lost Highway" and "Mulholland Dr." come to mind. Then there is "Fever", "A Beautiful Mind", and the recent "I, Anna" as well as "Trance", which have explored this phenomenon. "The Woman in the Fifth" belongs with this group.

Although that tricky shift between the real and the imaginary has probably been seen a few times too often now, "the Woman in the Fifth" does it well. This intriguing film has an affecting central story, a fascinating location and compelling performances all round.

To say that Tom is down on his luck is an understatement. He has lost his job as a university lecturer on literature and flown to Paris in search of his young daughter, Chloe, and his wife, who has had a restraining order issued against him. His bag is stolen on the bus; he has no money, and is forced to rent a grotty room in a down-and-out Parisian café, owned by a domineering, criminal character called Sezer.

Tom has also written a novel. He has no faith in it, but it clearly shows potential. His passion for literature seems to have been extinguished by the time we meet him; yet he hopes that writing a second novel will bring him some income. In the meantime, Sezer sets him up with a scary night shift in an underground bunker, where he must watch a screen for six hours each night and only allow people to enter if they know the correct 'password'.

It is at a literary gathering that Tom meets Margit. From the first moment she appears, we get goosebumps. The effect she has on Tom is electric – it might not be love at first sight, but there is something cool, mysterious and effortlessly sensual about Margit that immediately captivates him. From a simple glance through a doorway, he is compelled to follow her onto the balcony. The conversation they have there is tinged with sadness and sinister undertones; she recognises something in Tom and hands him her card, telling him to call 'any time after four', before slipping away. Who is this woman? Why does she unsettle us so much?

Ethan Hawke plays Tom. Critics have complained about his dodgy French accent, but try and put this into perspective. He is playing an outsider, a foreigner who is able to get by in conversation. Surely the American accent adds to the authenticity of the role, and emphasises his isolation. Give him a break – it's a fine performance.

Even more impressive, though, is Kristin Scott Thomas as the ethereal Margit. It is not the details of her life or the tragedy in her past that fascinates us – these are eventually revealed, but they won't be what you remember most. It is the constant performance – the cold, removed beauty of this character that startles us. Intelligent, demure and sinister, there is a potent dread and sorrow that pervades the scenes she is in, and permeates throughout the rest of the film in ripples that seem to emanate from her presence.

Consider the first time Tom visits her apartment. He is awkward, and tries to make small talk. He asks about her husband, a Hungarian writer. She indulges him for a short time, but they have no delusions. Both know very well why he is there. The shot that follows is perhaps the finest in the entire film; finally, we have found someone who understands how to film sex. It is sad to think that so many directors believe that the more you show, the more erotic the scene is. The tension in that apartment is almost unbearable, and sex does not diffuse it. Watch closely as Tom tries to kiss Margit, at what point she stops him and undoes his trousers. No detail is shown, and even the sounds of rustling material are muted. The camera focuses on their faces, in one steady, unmoving shot: Tom recoils in shock, closes his eyes, murmurs, almost disintegrating from the overwhelming emotion and physical pleasure of this act. Margit only watches, silently, smiling knowingly as if she were gazing at a small child trying to learn the alphabet. She is in complete control, and knows it.

I am not sure how to describe 'The Woman In The Fifth'; the word 'strange' doesn't even scratch the surface. It is a classy movie – the aesthetics and cinematography are top notch (notice the deep reds and blacks that cling to Margit, for example), and the influence of Polish cinema is patent. Paris is an alien world – behind a romantic façade lie the gray skies, the lonely train tracks, the tragic aura of mystery and always the looming sense of danger and death. This is a movie that defies rational judgement, as the plot swings from one bizarre event to the next. The twist about two thirds of the way through had many cynics in the audience scoffing – I have to admit, I wasn't completely convinced. But we are in the hands of a director who has complete confidence in his medium, and by the end, I had a deep respect for his efforts. This movie isn't perfect, but it is nevertheless beguiling and utterly compelling. It takes some skill to blend the genres seen here so effortlessly – from domestic drama to romance to crime thriller and finally entering the realms of the supernatural, this shouldn't really work. Yet the threads between these genres and the themes on display are as tangible as those woven by spiders and serving to capture insects in the brief interludes within the film, often showing snapshots of nature in its deformed, frightening beauty, focusing in particular on a faraway woodland. Where is it? What do these images mean?

It only really struck me as I left the cinema just how desperately sad this movie is. Whatever else 'The Woman In The Fifth' explores, it is primarily about suffering and loss, and our need for love and human companionship. It may not be a masterpiece – I would argue its flaws are quite substantial - but it is never pretentious. Pawel Pawlikowski is a director who has a story to tell, and does so with flair and imagination, without ever alienating his audience. Surprisingly deep, concisely expressed and including within its short running time glimpses of cinematic genius, 'The Woman In The Fifth' is an unassuming little gem. I highly recommend it.

The Woman in the Fifth (2011)

Well, the reason this movie gets some pretty awful reviews is the utter confusion of the plot. And yet it's a deliberate confusion--which is no excuse. It just means this isn't quite bad filmmaking, but a bad decision or two taken too far.

You see, the main character, played with ease and almost familiarity by Ethan Hawke, is mentally unstable. He seems to have two distinct realities, and these are easily confused by the viewer. And in one of these realities he does terrible things, though it isn't clear because we see those terrible things as innocently as he does (which is to say, not at all, it seems).

The character, Tom Ricks, is an American in Paris, a writer ostensibly in town to find and visit his daughter. But the mother's reaction to his showing up at their house is the first clue that something is wrong. This seemingly smart and very nice fellow scares her to call to the police. We see Ricks run to save himself from arrest but we don't quite know if he's to blame or if the mother is just overreacting.

The fact is the confusions in the movie are overwhelming. Maybe there was a better logic somewhere that an editor, under pressure from a producer or distributor, made much out of. Or maybe it was an artful decision to leave us bewildered, to spend time and emotional energy gathering the pieces and clues. The director, Pawel Pawlikowski, has something of a success or two behind him and so might have pretensions that got the better of things here.

In a way, the movie is better than it's overall impression by the end. There are numerous scenes that show a modern Paris very far removed--and much more revealing--than the glorified city seen in both mainstream French movies and American love letters like Woody Allen's recent time-travel. And the acting is overall restrained and convincing. In its bones, this is a substantial movie. Most of all, the cinematography is superb, some of the best creative stuff I've seen recently, dependent not on creative editing but on smart visual seeing--framing, kinetics, focus, and so on. I think you could watch it on many levels with great pleasure if you knew ahead of time the overall meaning and plot were going to be a mess.

Without forewarning, I'm guessing it leaves mostly frustration and bitterness.

A phenomenally ambitious, mostly successful film that (almost) atones for the cardinal sin that was Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. It says so much about cinema audiences that Midnight in Paris was so popular. Here's a film that is startlingly beautiful, utterly intriguing and perfectly cast, and with a drop dead gorgeous soundtrack. The result? A lot of very angry people because... it didn't make sense. No-one mentions that the "Midnight" script had holes you could drive a truck through, because they had a good time. Wake up, people! You're getting the cinema you deserve and it ain't pretty. Or maybe it is. How about Mark Wahlberg and a teddy bear? There you go. That works. Don't blame Hollywood (where I live and work). You're voting with your wallets. Films like The Woman in the Fifth that need intellectual and emotional input from its audience are being stoned to death. The world's becoming a Disney theme park and you're all accessories after the fact. If you think that the word "consumer" is an insult, there's still hope. Take a moment. Watch this film. It isn't perfect. The balance between physical and metaphysical is off and therein lies the confusion. Kieslowski (another obvious comparison) would have handled it better but he wasn't hampered by a literary source when he made La Double Vie. But... it's fKKKing gorgeous. Difficult, challenging, flawed? Yes, but I'll take it over the processed pap that is the American mainstream anytime.