Passagens

More promise than execution, "Passages" tackles twentysomethings navigating gender fluid sexuality with Paris as the backdrop. Welcome to the Tomas, Martin and Agathe dance. Narcissist and disagreeable German film director, Tomas is the unfortunate rotten core here. His marriage to Martin is disrupted by a purely sexual tryst with fetching schoolteacher Agathe, and Tomas can't wait to gush about his walk on the straight side to his husband. Things don't go well.

An interesting premise for sure, but one that plays out sloppily, without any character development to speak of, unless Tomas' deplorable indifference counts. An ugly persona, with an appearance to match - a patchy beard, gaunt features, a snaky lisp and a horrific wardrobe (which ironically, is getting kudos from GQ) - it's a bit of a puzzle as to his alure. Surprisingly, he's quite dull to boot, which makes for an odd protagonist: a difficult one to hate, or care for.

"Passages" takes stabs at the French New Wave, dishing up randy youth moving aimlessly through Paris to a jazzy backdrop, but with the exception of a lovely, film-closing evening bike ride, doesn't hit the mark. Without style, the absence of substance dominates this lackluster experience.

• hipCRANK.

This movie's faint appeal as a post-modern take on a love triangle seems exhausted by the implausible image, featured in many promotional cards, of Franz Rogowski's sneering Tomas jazz-snuggling up to Adèle Exarchopoulos' Agathe on a dance floor. Tantalizing, but no, the film does not explain how this pair makes any chemical, emotional, or even symbolic sense. Franz Rogowski has a convincing restraint and charisma as an outsider in films like "In den Gängen" or "Transit," but here, cast in a sexual melodrama (between characters Tomas, Martin, and Agathe) as a self-obsessed bourgeois, he acts as if he were a guy who manages a cable company by day and was hired for this film because of his eyebrows. That said, Rogowski has little in the script to work with: why any character should care about this selfish oaf is head-ache-making opaque. The script tempts Rogowski into an egotistical flatness, his voice a monotonous whine, whose musical equivalent is a beginner's huffing atonally on a saxophone, alone. The character knows no boundaries. Part demon-child, part mindless fungus, he one minute halts ordinary conversations imperiously and the next shows up uninvited (opening doors himself), babbling needy demands in somebody's dwelling or workplace. Aiming for the top edge of the goal, the filmmakers instead deliver Tomas as a kind of compound of all the silly-shirt, night-scene poseurs in the history of Saturday Night Live, going back to Dan Ackroyd's "wild and crazy guy," Bill Hader's Stefon, and the Roxbury Guys of Ferrell and Kattan. However, Tomas's nylon tank and midriff-baring macrame-top collection beats all of these SNL figures in a race to "ridiculous." We are supposed to believe that a woman, played by Adèle Exarchopoulos, who recalls Monica Vitti and Anna Karina in her voluptuous elegance, toughness, and vulnerability, is obsessed with a sniveling, narcissistic twit, a dying fire-pit of acrid banalities. Unsurprisingly, after about five minutes of film time, Exarchopoulos resonates an odd fatigue incompatible with Agathe's allegedly incandescent fascination with Tomas, and she betrays a glowing concern that the actress, not the character, is in a bad dream: this movie. Ben Whishaw as Martin is such a maestro that he is the only one of the three (in other work excellent) principal actors who can bring himself fully to the script with a believable, developing, pained realization, but the film at large is so full of abrupt, nonsensical leaps of mood and commitment that the whole exercise could be a workshop in which the players were challenged to vitalize premises that make scant sense. Another film that much more convincingly allows the wonderful Adèle Exarchopoulos to play on a plane of "nothing left to lose" is Rien à foutre (2021).

Intimacy can be a beautiful thing. However, it can also become something messy, hurtful and emotionally devastating when tainted by self-serving agendas, irresponsible intentions, or reckless, short-sighted experimentation, influences that can purposely or unwittingly end up wreaking widespread havoc. Such is the case in writer-director Ira Sachs's new domestic drama about a flamboyant, free-spirited gay male filmmaker, Tomas (Franz Rogowski), who impulsively jumps into an impromptu fling with a woman, Agathe (Adèle Exarchopoulos), a relationship that leaves his longtime husband, Martin (Ben Whishaw), unsure of what the couple's future might hold. As time passes, circumstances grow increasingly complicated as each member of this unlikely trio tries to sort out what lies ahead, particularly with the emergence of Tomas's ever-growing thoughtless capriciousness. Some viewers may look upon the story's shockingly reprehensible developments as improbable and appalling, but, sadly, as anyone who has ever watched tabloid TV can probably attest, the events depicted here might not appear as far-fetched as one might think. In that respect, this offering presents a bold, courageous, honest look at what can go awry in situations like this, an account loaded with incensed outrage, unbridled ire, biting humor and more than a little cynicism. It's a narrative that some audience members may find offensive, even deplorable, but, like a horrific car accident, it's also something that many viewers might find difficult to look away from, thanks in large part to the wholly convincing performances of the three protagonists. Sensitive viewers should be aware that the film includes a fair amount of explicit and provocative sexual content, so those easily offended by such material may not want to put this one on their watch lists. However, for those who appreciate domestic dramas that hold nothing back and that aren't afraid to get down and dirty in their portrayals of what can happen, this release is about as good as any out there. Just be prepared to be left with your jaw agape - and your head spinning.

Not all films need to be message driven, but I think any director or writer makes a film because they have something to say. In that sense, I'm not sure what 'Passages' wanted to say.

There was an ample potential to make an interesting social cut in the age of more fluid sexuality. "don't pigeon-hall yourself", "follow your heart"", you could be anything and love anybody"... and so on all sound great, but how it actually works in reality, and how it could clash with the traditional idea of a committed relationship, gender roles, and responsibility of a parenthood. There still are remnants of such questions and reflections in 'Passages'. Problem is Tomas is too big a rotten character and consumes all the drama. He's self absorbed (resulting in being selfish even without a malicious intend), cowardly, dishonest with himself and others, emotionally needy yet wants to dominate the situation, and above all manipulative (oh, and his fashion sense is pretty atrocious, but that's just based on my taste). It makes in contrast his male and female partners innocent victims, leaving very little room for a balanced reflection on sexuality/relationship/gender role issues.

Maybe a social commentary was not the director's intention. Maybe a character study was the goal? But surprisingly we don't really get to see the depth of Tomas and even less of Martin and Agathe. Why is Tomas the way he is? What was Tomas's relationship with Martin like before the storm? What did Tomas really see in Agathe and the future with her?

All the sex scenes were fun to watch, but if a character study was the goal maybe the film could have used those minutes more towards... well, to show the character. 'A rotten character ruins the lives of others' is too obvious a conclusion for a character study or even just any old relationship drama.

Passages is an OK drama. Technically sufficient and actings are decent (though I think it failed to utilize all the potential of such interesting actors as Whishaw and Rogowski). But it left me wondering what it really was all for... or is it just me out of my depth?

"Passages" is a master class in building a film around an unlikable character.

Franz Rogowski gives a commanding performance full of charisma and sex appeal as a sexually fluid narcissist who can't stand to let anyone around him be happy without him (or even really with him, for that matter). Viewed with a live audience, the movie becomes almost something of a comedy, and it was a hoot hearing the people in the theater with me reacting with more and more vocal disbelief at just what a jerk this main character could be. It's a morbidly fascinating character study -- it's almost like watching a day in the life of a sociopath.

I should have been exasperated with this character and movie and probably would have been if it had been handled differently. But as is, with Ira Sachs's excellent direction and the film's terrific acting, it's instead one of the best movies I've seen so far this year.

Grade: A.