Kung-fu master!

I wonder whether I can add more substantively than what Roger Ebert wrote in his review (comparisons to Murmur of the Heart as well, and I assume she and/or Birkin saw that at some point), since that contained many aspects regarding what Agnes Varda is doing here that I pondered when watching this ambitious and challenging film; not, or not merely, for the questions raised in the emotional (and maybe but left ambigious physical) relationship between a 40 year old mother and her 15 year old daughter's friend, but because the depiction of this bond between a middle aged woman and teenage boy both wants us to empathize and to understand it should not be so automatic to judge such a thing (and to be sure many would snap to judge, immediately, without another thought), especially when these are decent and kind people at the center.

What I focused on and admired was the intrinsically personal nature of what was in the frame, and what is on the margins ("deviant" sex as a moral issue) as the socio-political waking nightmare of the time visa-vi the height of AIDS (and that uncanny and almost funny-in-naivete moment where the kids are talking about uh fascist imagery kind of and Julien draws a cartoon Hitler, yikes, thanks mom for keeping that in the movie). This is a film where the director very consciously after all has one of her closest friends at the time starring in (and Co writing) an unsentimental melodrama about a relationship her character forms with a boy played by the director's son, and Birkins own kids and parents are in the film playing the character's children and parents, and there's equal time given to the inner emotional lives of both the woman and the teens.

It's the kind of film I wish I had read more up on (or watched one of Varda's charming introductions and interviews) since taking it on its own terms the lines between a kind of story that Varda had explored before, in a way, ie Le Bonheur and the difficulty of how ones heart can lead one into disarray and tragedy, and almost a kind of not documentary but a (forgive the Sly & Family Stone reference) "family affair" of a kind. One could also argue Varda casting her son shields from criticism, like "hey, you can't attack what's happening here, not only do they consent they're my BFF and kid, after all." Not that I can see that many critics doing that given how sensitively Varda shows us the events as the unfold and unravel, but they could is the thing.

I do think once this relationship does come undone, Varda and Birkin, perhaps to save some time in narrative economy in a tight 80 minutes, use narration from Mary Jane to explain whats happened, and it feels a little anti-climactic, not to mention what we see as Julien's accomplishment with the video game. On the other hand, Kung-Fu Master isn't a film about the salacious details of such a pairing, and to Varda's credit there is never anything explicit or sexual or anything that goes beyond kissing and hugging, so it is focused very squarely on character and what it means to have emotional immaturity (ie the "coolness" Julien sees of smoking *cigarettes) and a nostalgia for young love for Mary Jane, and that makes the film work for me.

It's not a major work, but it is a good one and successfully navigates a tricky subject and makes it profound by making it about joy and heartache and the simple fun of being together on a beach or making funny sounds and watching someone play a video game. And I'll lastly add (the now late) Birkin and Demy give affecting, totally natural performances here.

(*Maybe Varda approved of that. Did Mathieu's dad, Jacques Demy? Lord knows).

I undertook a time machine type ride heavily imbued with nostalgia when I saw this film in 2005.Kung Fu master directed by the unofficial grand mother of French new wave cinema Agnes Varda is as relevant in our contemporary times as it was 20 years ago in a not so distant past of 1987.It was a time of ubiquitous video games and all the unending worries,fears and anxieties related to a mysterious disease called AIDS. In this film it was nice to see some young French actors who ever since have nicely grown up such as Lou Doillon,Charlotte Gainsbourg and Mathieu Demy.The mystical Agnes Varda touch is very much evident and she takes her viewers on a tour of two different countries where our leading lady Jane Birkin has resided :England and France.Kung Fu master also contains in itself a puppy tale of juvenile love.In the hands of a less versatile director this would have been an absolute catastrophe but due to Agnes Varda's experience in handling such a complex tale of human emotions, what we get is one of the most personal wonderful statements of 21th Century on love.This is the only plausible reason for viewers to watch this film.

The idea for "Kung-Fu Master" was proposed by Jane Birkin in Agnès Varda's tribute documentary to her, "Jane B. par Agnès V." (1987). Birkin suggests a film in which a 40-year old woman would fall hopelessly in love with a teenage boy, suggesting herself and Varda's and Jacques Demy's son, Mathieu, for the leading roles. That very same year, the idea would develop into the rapturing, bewitching, winning "Kung-Fu Master", a film unlike any other ever made.

Mary-Jane (Birkin), 40, divorced, independent, living with her two daughters (her real-life daughters, 16-year-old Charlotte Gainsbourg and 5 year-old Lou Doillon), suddenly finds herself terribly attracted to one of her daughter's schoolmates, 14-year-old Julien (Mathieu Demy), and vice-versa. From then on, Mary-Jane and Mathieu find the unlikeliest ways to meet (including Mary-Jane bumping her car on Julien on purpose!) as they face love's highs and lows, trying to make it thrive against society's ponderous prejudices and Julien's own inevitable "growing up".

The film is a hoot from start to finish. The title is a reference to the Arcade video game, where a Kung-Fu Master must endlessly fight increasingly dangerous obstacles and enemies (as must Julien and Mary-Jane) to save his captive sweetheart, who is kept tied up, perennially crying for help. The opening sequence of the film, in which Mathieu Demy in full Kung-Fu costume skilfully simulates the robotic choreography of the video game hero is delightfully funny and wins you at once. The dialog sparkles with jeux-de-mots and a mix of English and French sense of humor.

Jane Birkin was probably never more beautiful or appealing than here, her angular, bony beauty serving her emotional transparency and complete commitment to her role. Mathieu Demy, inexperienced, is nevertheless charming, well-cast and never phony in his difficult role. Varda's direction of her own son is amazing: it looks as if she's discovering his acting potentialities and the first signs of manhood along with Mary-Jane and ourselves. The cast includes Birkin's family (parents, siblings, nephews, daughters etc), who appear nonplussed with the touchy issue and ultimately even help the odd couple. Charlotte Gainsbourg shines with her urchin face, special talent and sensibility; she's a natural. Baby Lou Doillon is lovely throughout, adding to the feeling of spontaneity that gives the whole film a slightly magical touch, as if we were watching improvised scenes, not scripted ones. Mary-Jane's and Julien's scenes together are far from risqué, but filled with emotional rapture, originality, humor. Sex is implied, but never at the core of things; love -- romantic, throbbing, unconventional love -- is.

"Kung-Fu Master" is a fable about the nature and possibilities of romantic love in obtrusive circumstances, and MAYBE it hints that women, girls and boys are better suited for it than grown-up men (which is probably true!). When Mary-Jane and Julien go to a desert island so that they can fully experience their love far from society's burden, we can see why they're at once sacred (they're pure, unbiased by interest, conventions, hypocrisy) and doomed (their love can only exist fully and freely away from conventional society). The film's ultimate goal may be to translate women's infinite, inexhaustible talent for loving and teaching love, regardless of how unlikely the object of their love is, or how powerful the enemies, or how complicated the obstacles; women are the invincible, undisputed Kung-Fu Masters of love, even if/when they don't win.

This is arguably Varda's and Birkin's finest hour; they have made a film that is a triumph of poetic sensibility filled with humor and intelligence; it's a tribute to feminine pride (no man could EVER make a film like this). Enchanting from start to finish, always surprising, never tacky or schmaltzy, "Kung-Fu Master" is a one-of-a-kind film just waiting to be (re)discovered -- but most likely destined to be locked away, in these hypocritical PC times of ours that furiously prevent renewed access to films as brave as this unless they're scandalous (which KFM is not). If you can find it, do see it by all means: and pay special attention to the beautiful, subtle, rich finale. Beware, though: "Kung-Fu Master" may be hazardous to your cynicism and conventionalism, and may restart your belief in l'amour fou.

The story of how this got made is plainly delightful; it's fun to know how Jane Birkin and Agnès Varda conceived of the project and went about making it, with their own families heavily involved. Beyond that I had no foreknowledge or expectations for the film, and by golly, I was taken by surprise. It's a great credit to Birkin, daughters Charlotte Gainsbourg and Lou Doillon, and Varda's son Mathieu Demy, that they all slide so easily into their parts; the acting couldn't feel more natural, and everyone is very charming. Of course, that does also make 'Le petit amour,' or 'Kung fu master,' decidedly awkward for the places it goes with the central relationship, and with frank discussion of sex that will seem perfectly normal for European viewers and possibly far less so for Americans with our woefully conservative society. Yet while there are absolutely uncomfortable aspects of the feature - emphatically, ideas that are and should be taboo in real life - I'd be plainly lying if I said this weren't an interesting, compelling movie, and enjoyable. I feel like the entirety of these 80 minutes are one big content warning for inappropriate relationships between adults and minors, but be that as it may, it's very well done and worth checking out.

Everything about 'Le petit amour' reinforces the personal, intimate, and fluid and organic feel of the picture. While the cast are foremost in contributing to those airs, Varda's smart direction, Pierre-Laurent Chénieux's gentle and warm cinematography, and the very real filming locations and earnest production design all lend to it as well. There's no shortage of drama to unfold here, but the overall effect is a low-key tone of homely, familial affection, like it's a story that could believably play out for real. That definitely goes for Varda and Birkin's screenplay, too, giving us complicated characters who are just a shade removed from the close-knit dynamics of the actual people involved. The dialogue and scene writing range from convivial and inviting, to cringe-worthy and mildly distressing, but always retain the sense of sincerity and realism that makes the movie feel pure and whole, as though it were both very authentic and exactly what it should and could have been. In that regard I'm pointedly reminded of Louis Malle's 'Pretty baby' of ten years prior, which very much shared in broaching the forbidden. The verisimilitude is bolstered by contemporary references (the AIDS crisis in full swing; the burgeoning popularity of videogames, and Dungeons & Dragons), and at large the result is a story that certainly puts one ill at ease, but is deeply absorbing and satisfying as a viewing experience.

I was taken aback, for sure. But let's not mince words: this is excellent. Given the topics broached on the side, one should be aware of serophobic and homophobic language from ignorant schoolboys - instances of dialogue that still pale in comparison, in terms of content warnings, to the 100-foot tall, flashing neon sign that is the core narrative thrust. Provided one isn't so disturbed by such storytelling as to immediately steer away from the title, however, I can't overstate just how good 'Le petit amour' is. Every last element is superb, with outstanding writing, direction, and acting; all the work served up by those behind the scenes is fantastic in helping to realize the sordid yet congenial tableau. It's a tale that any thinking, feeling person should find troubling, but with cinema being the perfect medium to explore even the unseemly side of life, the representation here - the tremendous care, intelligence, and skill that everyone poured into it - is exceptional. It won't sit well with all viewers, nor appeal to all, and there's no singular stroke of brilliance at any point. Ultimately, however, the marvelous, unique effort pays off handsomely, and if one has a chance to watch, then I think this earns a high, hearty recommendation.

There's a good reason why the English language title for Agnes Varda's new film was borrowed from a video arcade game. Beyond the obvious metaphor of the game itself it spells out very clearly the lack of pretension in Varda's story of a forty-year old housewife who falls in love with a fourteen-year old schoolboy. On its surface the film is about an older woman recapturing the passions of youth, and a young boy's awkward reaching out toward maturity. But underneath is a thoughtful look at the erosion of old-fashioned romantic ideals in an age of safe sex and AIDS awareness, a fact Varda gracefully acknowledges in the final, chilling scene, which (in a subtle way) shows the darkest side of adolescent peer pressure. It's a quiet, undemonstrative drama; Varda has a poet's sense of how much to say and how much to leave unsaid, and the few remaining words she leaves in the capable hands of a first-rate cast. In a daring casting decision the director's own son handles the role of the teen lover, and with surprising skill for a kid his age.