Ruvi Simmons

Faithless, although directed by Liv Ulmann, is undoubtedly a work stamped with Ingmar Bergman's approach to film-making. Equally, however, it is freighted with the pitfalls that many of his pieces fall prey to, and which make him, at time, an extremely frustrating artist. Occasionally, as with the Seventh Seal, one feels he truly is penetrating his subject, delivering a lyrical, profound meditation on the struggle for life and, conversely, against death. At other times, however, it feels as if he is not delving deep enough. Examples of this can be found in Summer With Monika and, to a lesser extent, Fanny and Alexander. The visuals are there, the story, the ideas, but no penetrative insights. Unfortunately, Faithless is marred by the same problem. To watch is like witnessing a pebble skimming the surface of an ocean; each time it looks and seems as if it will break the water and penetrate into the dark sea, it simply glances off the surface and skips onwards.

One of the main problems with Faithless is the depth and fullness of the characters. This, of course, is absolutely crucial to the success or failure of a film or play, where there is no omniscient narrator who can illuminate the inner workings of the protagonists. One must rely solely on dialogue and action for insight into the inner workings of the characters, and hence as a means of developing sympathy and an emotional attachment to the events of their lives. In Faithless, the protagonists are never fully developed. Marianne, the female lead inexorably drawn to adultery at the expense of marriage and parenthood, David, her self-deprecating, destructive lover and Markus, her unstable husband, are all depicted as merely reactive, shallow individuals. Since they themselves have no insights into their actions, even when given the opportunity to soliloquise, their actions hold no interest, become tedious to witness, and convey no broader conceptual meanings. The viewer must merely watch them commit deeds without reason, react without reflection, and recall without observing.

In addition, the plot of the film is, treated on its own, unremarkable, and covering ground already well trodden, not least of all by Bergman himself. It struck me as strange when viewing this film that a man as advanced in years and as seasoned as a cinematic artist should produce a piece so deeply pedestrian, particularly when some of his prior works have displayed obvious skill, intelligence and passion. Faithless could, irrespective of its bare bones plot, have been elevated beyond the level of mediocrity by the conveyance of a deeper level of meaning, but without this, it is little more than a well-crafted rendering of a familiar story. By no means bad, and certainly better than many films, it nevertheless fails to attain the level of excellence set by Bergman and other masters of the cinematic arts in the past.

A documentary based on the seizure of members of the Israeli Team at the 1972 Munich Olympic Games could have been an informative, intriguing piece exploring the complexities of the Middle Eastern conflict. One Day in September, however, concentrates more on the human interest of the event itself, neglecting background information in order to convey a one-sided and grossly biased perspective on a tragic occurrence.

Viewing the film with all magnanimity, Kevin Macdonald probably never intended to create a deep or balanced work. One Day in September recounts events in the style of a Hollywood suspense film, replete with a ticking clock for added suspect, a bombastic rock soundtrack and the narration of Michael Douglas. This approach, by reducing events to those one might find in a facile thriller, serves only to trivialise a grave and real happening.

The most glaring problem with One Day in September, however, is that it neither explores the underlying issues behind the Israeli-Palestinian tensions or endeavours to explain the motives of the terrorists responsible for the hostage taking. Instead, it villifies them and, more offensively, the German authorities who were understandably loathe to use force as a means of freeing the hostages.

There is no doubt that the events of the 1972 Munich Olympic Games were brutal and atrocious, but that is not a reason to automatically venerate any attempt at their portrayal. This seems to be a mistake made by some, however, including the Academy, which awarded One Day in September an Oscar in preference to the far superior Buena Vista Social Club. A documentary that manipulates narrative content as a means to propagandising the creator's opinion is, in ways, more deplorable than the tritest of films, and thus there can be no excuse for this sort of biased, unbalanced work.

Based on the Fassbinder play, Water Drops on Burning Rocks is an acutely observed exploration of relationships, successfully mixing burlesque absurdity with grim truths to create an enjoyable and insightful film.

The film's characters revolve around the life and whims of Leopald (Bernard Giraudeau), an ageing swinger whose laissez-faire suavity seduces the callow Franz (Malik Zidi). By the beginning of Act II, the latter's boyish confidence has been replaced with the willingness to selflessly submit himself to the whims of his irritable older lover. With the arrival of Anna (Ludivine Sagnier), Franz's subservient fiance, and Vera (Anna Levine), Leopald's former partner, the latter's apartment becomes the home to both farce and tragedy, as desires, attachments and caprices play themselves out in a confinement from which there is no escape. Ozon's consummate direction and the 1970's setting give the film and ostensible gloss which makes its underlying darkness even more striking. This is no less aided by the effortless confidence exuded by Giraudeau and the desperate neediness that is excellently portrayed by his three lovers. What makes Water Drops on Burning Rocks a memorable work is the power of its insights and the originality of their portrayal; it is a film whose exterior is humorous and playful but whose interior contains a bleak vision, in which relationships mean little more than a repetitive vacuum of need, where libidos and routine hold more weight than deep affection or care.

A finely crafted examination of the traits that can be most destructive and tawdry in relationships, Water Drops on Burning Rocks is saved from being dogmatic or overwhelming by the subtlety and wit employed by Ozon and his cast. It is an example of understated film-making that conveys real insight on a subject that has been much maligned in other films, such as the appalling Romance. Highly recommended to those who wish to a covertly intelligent, beguiling work.