La femme du Vème

Douglas Kennedy's perplexing novel THE WOMAN IN THE FIFTH has been further contorted by writer/director Pawel Pawlikowski for the film of the same name (aka La femme du Vème). If the viewer has read the novel then the confusion of the story will not be as surprising as it is to the novice viewer. In many ways this is a brilliant cinematic exploration of the fragility of the human mind, how events of the past can influence the manner in which we attempt to reconstruct a viable present. But in other ways this is a film that refuses to tell a story that is logical and will leave many viewers with some serious head scratching by movie's end.

Academic professor of literature and writer Tom Hicks (Ethan Hawke) seems to be fleeing America in the wake of a scandal simply because he wants to see his six-year-old daughter Chloé (Julie Papillon): Tom's estranged wife Nathalie (Delphine Chuillot) refuses to let Tom see his daughter, has a restraining order in place and seems fearful of Tom's character (it is suggested that Tom may have been in prison for the past six years). The police are called and Tom escapes onto a bus, falls asleep and s awakened at the end of the line having been robbed of this luggage and money. He is in the sleazy part of Paris inhabited by North Africans and Moroccans and finds a degree of solace in a tiny café, the beautiful Polish waitress Ania (Joanna Kulig) offers him coffee and introduces him to the owner, Sezer (Samir Guesmi) who allows him to room in the filthy place, an offer that is accompanied by a 'job' where he will be a night watchman in a warehouse visited by shadowy figures who must give a code for Tom to allow entry. Tom uses his night jobsite to write lengthy letters to Chloé and spends his days spying on her at her school. At a bookstore he meets a fellow American who invites him to an evening reception for writers and there he encounters the very strange Margit (Kristin Scott Thomas), a bewitching but enigmatic widow of a Hungarian writer who is obviously attracted to Tom and sets meeting times and places for them to engage in a tryst (in the Fifth Arrondissement). Tom and Margit begin a tempestuous physical affair but at the same time Tom and Ania have an equally passionate affair and there is always in the background Tom's obsession to reunite with his daughter. But the story implodes with a murder, a disappearance, and a very strange change in the veracity of Margit's existence. It is at this point that the film becomes purposefully deranged and bizarre and the audience is left with merely some ideas and clues as to what has really happened. How are these incongruous events to make sense? Can they make sense? Is Tom succumbing to the same fever that kept him sheltered for many days upon his arrival in beautiful Paris? Has time somehow passed him by or is he living in an even grander deceit than he first thought?

The film is basically in French with English subtitles. Ethan Hawke struggle with the French but that is credible for a 'just arrived' American. Kristin Scott Thomas offers her usual excellent skills as the strange Margit and the remainder of the cast do well with what little dialogue they are given. The dank atmospheric cinematography is by Ryszard Lenczewski and the correctly strange musical score (from an aria form a Handel opera sung by a countertenor to piano music excerpts form the Romantic era) is the work of Max de Wardener. Pawel Pawlikowski's moody, menacing, downbeat film takes something from the director's Polish compatriots Polanski and Kieslowski. It is offbeat but for those who appreciate experimental cinema this is well worth your time.

Grady Harp

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.

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.

Despite the promise of a collaboration between Pawel Pawlikowski, Ethan Hawke, Joanna Kulig, and Kristin Scott Thomas set in Paris, this film fizzles into a frustrating, rather dreary mess. In a nutshell, an American writer (Hawke) shows up at his ex-wife's apartment, hoping to see their daughter. She calls the police on him and he flees, and after being robbed on a train, he ends up in a seedy hotel. He takes a shady job to pay for his room, and gets involved with a couple of women, one of whom was the muse for a Hungarian author (Scott Thomas), and another who works at the hotel (Kulig). Things go south when a man trying to blackmail him turns up dead, and the muse (who is also his alibi for the evening in question) turns out to be imaginary.

The meaning to the film is probably along the lines of an artist struggling with his own sanity, and having to make difficult choices between creative output and family, all while living in impoverished conditions. He tries to write beautiful, touching work but he's doing so in the dingiest of places, the struggle of which has been felt by a large number of artists since time began. While Kulig and Scott Thomas felt rather wasted in their parts, Hawke shows his range here and has several fine moments, which were the highlights of the film.

Where it falls down is in the narrative, which is too vague and open-ended. I disliked the muse reveal, and thought the murder was an odd bit of drama, things that sent the story over the rails for me. I wondered about what had led to the restraining order which was alluded to early on, and wished that the film had focused more on the dynamic with his ex-wife and child, as opposed to the other women in Paris. How much of this is in the imagination of the author is subject to interpretation and that's kind of interesting, but ultimately it just doesn't come together.