Sulle mie labbra

I picked this one up on a whim from the library, and was very pleasantly surprised. Lots of tight, expressionistic camera work, an equally tight script, and two superb actors all meld together to make one very fine piece of film. Not for the reptilian multiplex brain, but rather the true aficionado of cinema. If Hollywood ever does get its grimy hands on it, I'm sure it will ruin it. A choice treat all the way around. Other posters here have more than amply sung its praises, so I needn't bother duplicating their paeans; just take their advice, and mine, and don't miss this gem. Call it what you like; I call it two hours of entertainment well-spent. Read my lips: don't miss it.

"Read My Lips" tells of a strange symbiosis which develops between a plain, socially maladroit female office worker (Devos) and her workplace trainee, a crude excon (Casel). As the film fleshes out this unlikely duo down to their ids they become embroiled in a chilling merging of the minds, each using the other for their own selfish reasons with an extraordinary outcome. Good stuff for anyone into character-driven films with strong psychodramatic undercurrents. In French with easy to read subtitles and good translation. (B+)

This was one of the DVD's I recently bought in a set of six called "Frenchfilm" to brush up our French before our planned holiday in beautiful Provence this year. So far, as well as improving our French we have considerably enhanced our appreciation of French cinema.

What a breath of fresh air to the stale, predictable, unimaginative, crash bang wallop drivel being churned out by Hollywood. What a good example for screenplay writers, actors, directors and cinematographers to follow. It was so stimulating also to see two identifiable characters in the lead roles without them having to be glossy magazine cover figures.

The other thing I liked about this film was the slow character and plot build up which kept you guessing as to how it was all going to end. Is there any real good in this selfish thug who continually treats his seemingly naïve benefactor with the type of contempt that an ex-con would display? Will our sexually frustrated poor little half deaf heroine prove herself to the answer to her dreams and the situation that fate has bestowed upon her? The viewer is intrigued by these questions and the actors unravel the answers slowly and convincingly as they face events that challenge and shape their feeling towards each other.

Once you have seen this film, like me you may want to see it again. I still have to work out the director's psychological motive for the sub plot in the role of the parole officer and some of the subtle nuances of camera work are worth a second look. The plot does ask for a little imagination when our hero is given a chance to assist our misused and overworked heroine in the office. You must also be broad minded to believe in her brilliant lip reading and how some of the action falls into place. But if you go along for the thrilling ride with this example of French cinema at its best you will come out more than satisfied. Four stars out of five for me.

If you're a fan of film noir and think they don't make 'em like they used to, here is your answer - they just don't make 'em in Hollywood anymore. We must turn to the French to remember how satisfying a well-made film from that genre can be. Read My Lips is a wonderfully nasty little gift to the faithful from director Jacques Audiard, featuring sharp storytelling and fine performances from Emmanuelle Devos and Vincent Cassel.

The basic plot could have been written in the 40's: dumb but appealing ex-con and a smart but dowdy femme fatale (who turns out to be ruthlessly ambitious) discover each other while living lives of bleak desperation and longing, manipulate each other to meet their own ends, develop complex love/hate relationship, cook up criminal scheme involving heist, double crosses, close calls and lots of money. All action takes place in depressing, seedy and/or poorly lit locations.

Audiard has fashioned some modern twists, of course. The femme fatale is an under-appreciated office worker who happens to be nearly deaf and uses her lip reading ability to take revenge on those who marginalize her. And where you might expect steamy love scenes you discover that both characters are sexually awkward and immature. Add in a bit of modern technology and music and it seems like a contemporary film, but make no mistake - this is old school film noir. It's as good as any film from the genre and easily one of the best films I've seen all year.

'Sur mes Lèvres' (`Read My Lips') is so focused on its two main characters it's claustrophobic, but the payoff is that we get inside their lives and stay inside for a very concentrated and interesting 115 minutes.

Jacques Audiard has crafted a unique character-driven crime movie with a fresh visual style and a compulsively watchable story. Emmanuelle Devos won the César for her performance as Carla the deaf office worker, and she dominates the movie along with the sexy, sleazy Paul (Vincent Cassel), a recently paroled petty thief. The movie is about their odd relationship -- mutual exploitation, let's call it -- and about the successful caper that results as well as Carla's newfound power at the busy property development company where she hires Paul, despite his complete lack of office skills, as her assistant. It's obvious she's lonely and looks on this as a chance to get a man, but it's also a chance to have somebody to kick around the way she's been kicked around at the office, and, when she sees the value of it, a chance to use his muscle and menace to bolster her job.

What neither of them anticipates is the way their mutual dependency and very different skills lead them into intimacy and crime -- not necessarily in that order. Audiard, who co-scripted the film with Tonino Benacquista, and who's known for the richly entertaining `A Self-Made Hero' (`Un Héros Très Discret," 1996), adopts here a very selective, liquid, often claustrophobic way of filming and editing. He uses a lot of tight close-ups, dark lighting, and fast cuts between scenes that are as rapid and unceremonious as Benoît Jacquot's in the 1998 `School of Flesh' (`L'École de la Chair'). We know we have to stay on our toes. We're expected to pay close attention and do some thinking.

We also often feel we're spying on people from Carla's point of view, as she does when she reads the lips of gossiping coworkers for herself (and later for Paul) at the office canteen, or when at Paul's prompting she uses binoculars to read lips in a gangland nightclub owner's apartment that Paul starts casing out after he's forced because of a debt to moonlight at the club. In her apartment we see her put on Paul's bloody shirt naked after he's been beaten, or try on sexy new shoes the same way, and again the camera angle is dark and close up so we only glimpse parts of her in the dirty mirror. (There's a parallelism between iris-ed images in the movie and Carla's limited hearing.) This is an intrusive, expressionistic camera, but the editing makes us maintain an alert distance as the plot moves from Carla's initially limited existence to its transformation by the explosive personality of Paul and the more and more dangerous embroilments that happen when the two become a mutually exploitive team.

We keep seeing the characters enter into yet one more new scene that we sense is risky without quite knowing why. Somehow we're detached and scared at the same time. Paul and Carla each create a world of uncertainty and peril for each other. There's a growing unease that turns into increasing excitement and danger, and finally there's Hitchcockian suspense effectively augmented by forceful cross-cutting between Carla watching the gangsters through the apartment windows after a heist and Paul manning the noisy nightclub bar, which now also has become a threatening place.

The movie has flaws. An airline ticket seems to have wings. Carla is too magically able to carry out Paul's instructions, gathered only from a few hastily mouthed words lip-read between two buildings. A subplot concerning Paul's parole officer (Olivier Perrier) is superfluous and confusing. Given that so much effective use is made of varying sound levels to convey Carla's hearing with and without her two hearing aids -- turned up, turned down, or removed -- the musical background score in non-nightclub scenes is obtrusive.

But what's strong about this movie is that it has two actors with the power to dominate the screen, and a director who works with a lot of authority and freshness in presenting his vision.

Emmanuelle Devos' characterization as the mousy but smart and persistent Carla is so rich and assured we may just take it for granted -- but the French film industry didn't, since they not only gave her the César, but did so in a year when the other contenders were Charlotte Rampling in `Sur la Sable,' Audrey Tautou in `Amélie,' and Isabelle Huppert in `La Pianiste." Vincent Cassel, who's said he's an instinctive actor, simply embodies his part: it's his prison tattoo, his sleazy mustache, his oily hair, and his tall, wiry, threatening physicality that make him both repulsive and sexy as Paul. We experience here the powerful onscreen presence that's turned him into one of the hottest young film actors in France since he starred in Mattieu Kassovitz's `La Haine' in 1995. (He was seen in the US last year in the enjoyable costume flick, `Le Pacte des Loups,' and is in a lot of new movies to come.)

People are saying this is sure to lead to an American remake with big stars. Maybe so, but it's Audiard's vision that makes the picture interesting. All the Hollywood stars in the world won't take the place of Audiard's handheld camera and mercurial editing style, or a unique talent that combines sensitivity to the indignities of office workers and parolees with the ability to reinvent film noir tradition.

Also unique -- and unlikely to survive an American remake -- is the repression of sexuality between Paul and Carla, which makes the sexual tension between them seem all the more powerful throughout this tightly constructed, economical movie.