Leducdor

A curious movie. Very French in that it is totally gay, yet that is never given in the film. A man (Le Bihan) grows tired of his life in Paris, quits his job, and enrolls in bulldozer school - where he meets a nice-looking but dim dweeb to whom he is inexplicably attracted. The rather butch wife becomes less & less important (she's also found someone else), and as time goes by, he becomes more and more involved in helping the dweeb cope with both life and school. No sex, not even a hint about what is going on, except for a shower scene where he allows the dweeb to be beaten, and some understated dialogue about "queers" from fellow students that is curiously ignored.

Le Bihan is marvelous as a man who doesn't know what is happening to him. He just can't figure it out - why this, why this guy, why these feelings. He copes, even at the end, and though nothing has ever been said, you know exactly what has happened. Depending on how you look at this film, either terribly simple, or terribly subtle. A good watch regardless.

This is not flawless filmmaking, but it IS flawless cinema. One won't bother recounting the story, or the plotline, a viewer can gather that from history, OR previous reviews, OR even a casual overview of Dumas novels. One would like to speak to the filmmaking here, and along the way, on the movie.

If one is at all interested in French history, one has already seen this movie a thousand* times, * meaning enough. However, a digital dvd transfer of the movie as it was originally intended to be seen by M. Chéreau, without subtitles, without interference,the VO [version originale] is stunning. The first and foremost difference is the lighting - il te frappe, as the French would say, "it strikes you." Not being a technician, one can't speak to the difference between the film one saw on DVD and the film one saw in American theaters, or on American DVD, or even on VHS, French and/or American. The difference is striking. From the opening scenes, one is suddenly, almost frightfully, drawn into the 16th century, an epoch without the cushions of modern life. The light is everywhere, and it shines in a way that is pitiless and revelatory. This was never, unfortunately, appparent to theater goers here, and, I suspect, to cinema goers in France. If it had been, there would have been Oscars. One is not sure cinema projection equipment can convey what M. Chéreau did with this film. Where there is light, there is "liminality" and where there are shadows, even there there is light, but it is dim (thus not liminal), and the cadaverous flesh of the living players conveys more than anyone could ever say in dialogue - these are "dead" people, living out a drama that is already predestined for them, which is a marvelously conceived conceit of the filmmaker. M. Chéreau is playing with predestination and Fate here, and it is through the art of cinema that he is doing it. Mlle Adjani turns in a bravura performance, and it is only by grace of Jeanne Moreau's 1954 performance that we have any scale of comparison. Moreau's performance is cool, ice and politics, but Adjani's is heat, love and politics, and suited to her generation. Vincent Perez is suitably heroic (watch the rose tones come and go on his flesh as the light changes). The kudos for male performances, however, are shared by Jean-Hugues Anglade, long an underrated French actor, and Daniel Auteuil, too long appreciated for his bravura performances elsewhere and not given enough credit for what he can do with a gesture, with a line, with a look. M. Auteuil is almost always lit with cool hypocrisy, (ambers and greens) as suits his performance, but M. Anglade turns in one of the best roles of his career as the doomed Charles IX, and he never looks less than "on death's door." A naturally sensitive actor, he adds a touch of "soullessness" to his Charles IX that is unforgettable - weak, yes, king, yes, momma's boy, yes, but also, in the end, needy child. It is stunning in its ultimate simplicity as a performance for cinema. Very few performances in film measure up to Virna Lisi's Catherine de Medici(s) [the s is French spelling]. She is "incroyable" (incredible), and something was wrong when she wasn't recognized universally as '94's best supporting actress. Her queen is multi-layered, loving, hating, deeply cynical yet naively superstitious, playing son against son and daughter against political reality, in other words a perfect incarnation of the 16th century in France. Any political woman you can think of could have sat at her feet and learned lessons on "how to do it." Mme Lisi herself might have been a confidante to the real Catherine, she is that good in this role. She was crowned for this performance in Europe, but should have been crowned universally. Watch her as she vacillates between love and hate and politics, and especially watch the lighting - it subtly changes according to her role of the moment. Watch her carefully towards the end, as Fate winds things up, and watch an actress give herself up totally to the role, to the moment, in order to incarnate a character that is absolutely unforgettable.

Apparently, M. Chéreau lets his actors know what he is doing, because they respond in according " shades" of emotion. When the lighting is dim, or the focus is midrange, they "fuzz" a little, giving the viewer a sense of their uncertainty, but if he focuses, they focus, too, and there are frightening moments of soul-baring intimacy when you almost want to look away - it is like watching your intimates make love; too much, too intimate, too deep. Dominique Blanc turns in a nearly flawless performance as the over-the-top lady-in-waiting to Margot - watch her lighting, too, and how she responds. "Conspiratrice", duchesse, cynical woman in love despite herself, she is very, very good. Pascal Greggory as the future Henri III is wonderful, and the rest of the cast stand out. This was obviously a labor of love and intensity, and all gave their best to M. Chéreau.

In the end, one keeps wondering what it is about the film that was so memorable - and the french dvd transfer makes it perfectly clear. The performances, yes; the "mise en scène," yes; the director, certainly. But it is the whole, the light and the shadows, the darkness and the glow, as in those candles in the marvelous square paper lanterns in the late night of the Louvre as the people begin to weave their plots, that make it memorable. Good actors, great performances, and a sure director - flawless cinema.

Gay comedies are a hard genre to master with any subtlety; one side of the fence is occupied by movies made to mock gays for 'straight' amusement, and the other side is to mock straights for 'gay' amusement. Right off the top, I'll say that I enjoyed this film. Not wildly, as 20+ years ago I enjoyed 'La Cage aux Folles,' yet nevertheless it was involving, good characterization, well-edited and paced. Yet, yet . . . . One of the hurdles for most viewers is that the film is deeply rooted in the French gay cultural scene. And if the viewer isn't familiar with that milieu, it will seem as if the film was set in the late '70s or '80s. Everything that the viewer knows or may have heard about gay life in the USA in those years seems very alive here. The point is, that IS the way Paris is, even now. While trend-setting on a variety of fronts, France has NEVER set the pace for gay culture, that honor belongs to the USA. Thus there is a soundtrack out of the Gloria Gaynor days (different songs, but reminiscent of 'Priscilla of the Desert,') and the large background cast of gay characters are reminiscent of times long gone on this side of the Atlantic. If the viewer can accept that '80s-style gay party life is still alive and well in Paris in 1996, then there won't be any jarring sense of "whoa - when was this film made?" The top-billed star is Patrick Timsit in the role of Adrien, the gay main character who loves Eva, longtime friend and owner of a gay establishment. He thinks of her as family, and even says so at one point in the movie. But the STAR of this film is Fanny Ardant (Eva), who easily steals every single scene she is in and not without reason. There is a rather flimsy opening setup about how all the characters meet - Adrien is negociating a deal with Alexandre, a banker, played by Richard Berry (sorry, Gtran, but he's the banker, not the client), and soon various wives, lovers, 'tricks' and others are all in on the act. For anyone not familiar with Ms. Ardant, she is an undiluted joy (go rent 'Ridicule,' now!). Ferociously handsome, wearing her emotions on her face (and her clothes quite well, too)while keeping her heart hidden, she engages the viewer as few actress do anymore (French actresses have a talent for that). I found Mr. Timsit arch and shrill at times, without the underlying tenderness and pathos that invested every moment of Michel Serrault's Zaza Napoli of 1978, but he suffices. Richard Berry does a fine job as a 'hetero' forced to open his horizons a bit while pursuing Eva. Michèle Laroque has the unenviable job of the 'clueless wife,' but her hesitancy and luminous beauty play very well here. Jacques Gamblin as Lemoine, Alexandre's aide, tries very hard to portray a man still caught in the 'it's hard to come out' milieu of Paris (which is, sadly, still true), but he lacks a certain "je ne sais quoi" to quite pull it off successfully; with time, he may very well become a great actor. There are a thousand and one jokes in this film that will only be understandable to francophones - and Parisian French is fast, clipped and very argotic (I can't speak about sub-titling, as I saw a VO [version originale], but I can imagine the inability to relay the sense of the original in subtitles). If you can speak French WELL, you'll laugh a lot. The nod to '90's/21st-century sensibilities about AIDS-awareness is last-minute and feels very false, thrown in as a sop. Rent the movie - it is a cult classic in France, for a variety of reasons. However, I will give you one more: as you watch this film, ponder the differences between American and French culture and consider why, in France of all places, homosexuality is still shameful.