Pollo alle prugne

Other reviews cause me to cry out in protest as I found "Chicken with Plums" captivating in a way few films have touched me. I would urge anyone reading these words to seek it out for themselves (I found it on "starz" and hope they will continue to show it).

The storytelling is tantalizingly deliberate; one might even say that the early sequences are almost misleading their matter-of-fact tone. But the artistic team - and a martini-dry performance by Mathieu Amalric as our harried hero - continue unwrapping the narrative in a startlingly casual fashion, the tale becomes richer and more daring with every turn.

Persian tales begin, "There was someone, there was no one." See for yourself whether you find Nasser Ali someone to remember in this artful Persian story.

Nasser Ali Khan (Mathieu Amalric) is a famous Iranian violinist; whose life takes a dark turn after his violin is destroyed. Unable to find a suitable substitute for his invaluable instrument Nasser Ali decides there's only one thing left to do: Die. After considering different methods to end his own life, he decides that waiting for death to come to him is the one that makes most sense. In the eight days preceding his earthly departure Nasser Ali reflects upon his life, his art and the love of his life. In what seems like a series of fever dreams the filmmakers progressively let the viewer in on Nasser Ali's mind and life story.

Whimsical, sweet and romantic Poulet aux prunes is a thoughtfully composed film, with a lot of heart and a typically French sense of humor. As these kinds of films go it is more interested in the little character quirks and moments they share with each other, rather than big action or plot. The charming screenplay and great command in the directing department make this film a mature effort, that reveres and references foreign fare: Namely Italian cinema and the beautiful Sofia Loren. The film is sustained by strong performances by all of its lead actors. For a film about a musician the score of Chicken with Plums is great towards the end and climax of the story, but in one instance it felt they were imitating Steve Jablonsky's My Name is Lincoln. Story-wise I think the ending is a bit abrupt and somewhat unresolved. The pieces of the story all come together nicely, but you can't help feeling that something's missing.

Personally, I'm someone that values visually compelling films Chicken with Plums and would say Christophe Beaucarne's (DP on Mr. Nobody and Michel Gondry's upcoming Mood Indigo) cinematography definitely stands out; same goes for the art direction. It's especially fascinating how the filmmakers integrate animation and different filming techniques to craft over-stylized, almost exaggerated scenery. The almost "artificial" mise en scène is appropriate for the big emotions and 'larger than life' characters portrayed. Speaking of visions, I have to mention the heartbreakingly beautiful Golshifteh Farahani. I wish the story would revolve more around her character and the love story, because to me it is the most interesting part of the film.

Moviegoers that don't mind subtitles and enjoy romantic films like Amélie (2001), Big Fish (2003) and The Fall (2006) will certainly appreciate this one.

I loved Persepolis both as a graphic novel and as a film. So I was looking forward to Satrapi's new work. I had neither read the graphic novel nor much about the film before watching, which I now regret because this film has little or nothing to do with its predecessor. First of all, it is no animation film and Satrapi's beautiful artwork is limited to the opening titles and to a tale told by the Angel of Death towards the end of the film. The whole cast is French, they speak French and both look and behave like French and, except when it comes to the characters' names, one has to do a big effort to keep in mind that the story is supposed to take place in Teheran. It might be a meaningless detail to some, but for me it was a disturbing discrepancy. The whole film has a superb photography and every scene is carefully manufactured (i.e. manipulated in post-production) into something that indeed looks like a powerful work of art. But inside this nicely wrapped box, I find really little that makes this film worth watching. It's not a film for children: I wouldn't want to tell my children the story of a man who decides to let himself die showing total disrespect for both his wife and children. But as a grown-up, I am really missing something, that something that I did find in the autobiography of a little girl growing up away from a country which has ceased to exist. Chicken with plums is a sort of disturbing bedtime story about a man who lost the joy of living, carefully wrapped up in some sort of misty reverie, nothing more than that. Still, it is probably supposed to be a comedy, and that adds a little sugar to the pill that you'll have to swallow if you decide to watch this. I feel a big disappointment. Just like that plate of smoking-hot chicken with plums which is left untouched on the table by the protagonist.

A live action film from the directors of Persepolis. Like Persepolis, it's based on a graphic novel written by Marjane Satrapi. It's nice to see that Satrapi and Paronnaud have some cinematic legs. This is wonderful. Very, very sad, but also utterly gorgeous. Mathieu Amalric stars as an Iranian violinist who gets in an argument with his wife (Pulp Fiction's Maria de Madeiros), who then breaks his prized violin. Unhappy with his life, Amalric decides to die and retreats to his bed. Over the next seven days, his life story plays out before his eyes. The exquisite visuals will certainly impress viewers, but it seems like the depth of the story gets lost on many. It is, simply, a story about the missed opportunities in life and how they haunt us. The beauty of the visuals gives it a kind of magic, but, in the end, this is a very tragic story that will resonate with many.

By not betraying her own personal style and the comic source, evident in its graphic and contrived aesthetic, this film work from Marjane Satrapi doesn't' exploit his full poetic potential, as it chokes the plot in an exercise in style which enchants the eye more than the heart, in a series of surrealistic digressions, flashbacks and flash-forwards (the futures of protagonist's children), by looking for poetic effects instead of true poetry. Nevertheless, the ending, practically silent, explains and forgives the limits and the excesses of a film built on form and on a cinematographic "cinéphile" quoter mannerism, and finally gets to the craved emotion. Ironic, melancholic and visionary mix, with more care for narration and less for stylish frippery it would have been a great hymn to life: as it is now, it did it in half. Paraphrasing the character of the music master: good technique with no heart doesn't make great music.