Comme une image

A beautifully crafted and acted film where the director Agnes Jaoui, who incidentally plays a leading role in the film supporting and coaching, Marilou Berry as Lolita a budding singer, for me the star of the film, who has to come to terms with her father's and his immediate circle of friends individualism.

As in all good films the pace is wonderful as the protagonists are slowly bought together, egos waxing and waning as they seek out what is best for themselves and to hell with everyone else. That is except for Sebastian who early in the film senses Lolita's, unbeknown to her, egalitarianism. The film ends with Lolita's awakening to the richness of a sharing society, while the director announces where her sympathies lie courtesy of the father's hi fi player.

Yet another French cultural swipe at Hollywood. Highly recommended.

The film begins with a character speaking on her cellphone but unable to be heard because the taxi driver is playing his radio at such a loud volume -- which is a fitting preface to the rest of the film, in which characters try desperately not only to be seen (as in the title, translated only approximately from the French "Comme Une Image"), but to be heard. At the heart of the story is a daughter's inability to be heard, quite literally, by her father -- who will rarely acknowledge his daughter and refuses to listen to his daughter's cassette of her singing classical music. Aside from the main father/daughter relationship, the film is full of types that are at once fresh and recognizable (the unctuous friend of the celebrity, the slightly defeated wife of an author, who has subsumed her own passions for music to his passion to be a famous author). This will come as no surprise to those familiar with Jaoui's other work. Though not groundbreaking cinema, Look At Me is two hours very well spent in a theater.

COMME UNE IMAGE (LOOK AT ME) is a tough little film that practically defies the viewer to love it. Rated as a comedy, it has few chuckles of the usual kind, but the smart tidy script delivers more of the Reformation-type comedy - wit with a bite. Writer/director and star Agnès Jaoui (her co-author is her ex-husband Jean-Pierre Bacri who also stars) is obviously an intelligent, observant, caustic chronicler of contemporary French society who dotes on celebrities at the expense of their own self-respect. Not a single character in this film is likable, but each one is fascinatingly interesting and a bit warped. Their interaction provides the venom that in Jaoui's hands raises the bar on the range of comedy.

Étienne Cassard (Jean-Pierre Bacri) is a famous writer whose latest novel has been 'transformed' into a schmaltzy film about which he is loathsomely embarrassed. He is caustic, acerbic, and emotionally negligent of both his grown obese daughter Lolita (Marilou Berry), who devotes her resentful life in an attempt to being a famous concert singer, and to his new wife Karine (Virginie Desarnauts) and little daughter. Lolita's music coach is Sylvia (Agnès Jaoui) whose demands on her students reflect her frustrated life being married to an unknown author Pierre (Laurent Grévill). Odd paths cross and it is through Lolita's influence as the daughter of a famous writer Étienne that Sylvia arranges for Pierre to join forces with Étienne and gain acceptance and popularity, but the consequences include Sylvia's increased tutelage for Lolita and her group of fellow madrigal singers.

Lolita comes the closest to being a character about whom we care. She is distraught about her weight, her distant father, her stepmother and stepsister, her inability to gain the affection for the boy of her dreams, her struggle to become a significant performer - all of which prevents her from recognizing the man who could salvage it all - Sébastien (Keine Bouhiza) who literally falls at her feet! All of these characters interact in complex and at times trying ways, ever cognizant of the 'authority of celebrity' and the results of these engagements form the body of the film. The acting is on a high level, the dialogue is crisp and smart, and the musical background for this mélange is a gorgeous mixture of classical music ranging from Buxtehude through Schubert ('An die Musik' plays a big role!) and many others. This 'comedy' is more intellectual than entertaining, but if wit and elegance of acting brings you joy, then this is a film to see. In French with subtitles at a long 2 hours! Grady Harp

I like the movie and thought it was interesting to see so many characters develop. Few popular American films can pull that off. The title made more sense to me after I thought for a while.

EVERYBODY in the film was saying, "Look at me!" which I think was the title of Pierre's book that he got accepted in the movie.

Lolita, of course, is saying to her father, Etienne, "Look at me, your daughter," as well as to everyone else, "Look at me for more than the chubby adolescent. I'm more than the daughter of the famous guy you want to curry favor with."

Etienne is saying, "Look at me (and my beautiful wife young enough to be my daughter)" and always striving for recognition (well displayed at the party where he forces the mogul to come over to HIM).

Sylvia, the music teacher, is certainly saying to her husband, Pierre, "Look at me, instead of obsessing over your 3rd book! For crying out loud, the other books got published and were well-reviewed." She tentatively enjoys it when the party guy really DOES look at her and they dance.

Pierre says, "Look at me," in his burning quest for publication and chasing the association with Etienne.

Karine, Etienne's young wife, probably was saying, "Look at me," when she married the famous author but then doesn't get enough of his time/attention, particularly because he's always checking out the new potential trophies. Their daughter is certainly saying, "Look at me," with all her attention-getting tantrums.

Sebastien (Raschid) is saying "Look at me as a real person, more than the stereotyped Algerian/Moroccan/Turk, unable to fit smoothly into French society."

Agnes Jaoui's Look at Me is an almost perfectly-pitched comic character study, a nimble, amusing and thoughtful portrait of flawed people and their unlikely relationships. The principals form their attachments through a combination of accident and ambition: Lolita (Marilou Berry), the daughter of famous writer Etienne Cassard (Jean-Pierre Bacri), seeks the aid of an overworked music teacher, Sylvia (Agnes Jaoui), in rehearsing her chorale group for an up-coming performance. Sylvia has no interest in helping Lolita, whom she considers a bit of a pest, until realizing who Lolita's father is; wishing to meet the famous Cassard, who might be able to help her struggling-writer husband Pierre's (Laurent Grevill) career, Sylvia agrees to coach the ensemble. Cassard, taken with Sylvia and Pierre, helps the fledgling author; a rave article appears in a big newspaper, and Pierre is on his way to fame and fortune. Things come to a head, however, during one of those beloved French weekends in the country (where would French cinema be without weekends in the country): Cassard demonstrates himself to be a jerk by dressing-down his young, attractive wife Karine (Virginie Desarnauts) in front of everyone; Lolita realizes that her boyfriend Mathieu (Julien Baumgartner) is only interested in her because she's the daughter of the famous Cassard; Sylvia realizes what a jerk SHE is for trying to use poor Lolita, etc., The central character, Lolita, has the misfortune of being the off-spring of a famous man; she seems doomed always to exist in his shadow, to fail in every effort to gain attention for herself (to get someone to look at her). She's overweight, and chatters incessantly, and puts inordinate pressure on herself, but Agnes Jaoui has not conceived her as a poor, downtrodden victim; instead Jaoui has made her as self-absorbed as her father, as desperate for validation, creating a dynamic between them that feels wholly convincing, the friction that always exists between family members who are more alike than they would care to admit. The other important relationship is that of Sylvia to Pierre; Sylvia seems a woman of integrity, despite her rather shameless use of Lolita to gain entrée into Cassard's circle, but Pierre, after years of struggle, seems all-too-willing to toss his principles out the window in the name of success (he appears on a ridiculous talk-show, confetti raining on his head and half-naked girls grinding in his face; Sylvia can only sit on the sofa and stare in astonishment at what her husband has gotten himself into). Jaoui's intent is to delineate these characters precisely, to sketch as minutely as possible their motives, to map out their inter-relationships. And she achieves this, without apparent detriment to the narrative which moves briskly and confidently, and with the aid of several excellent performers. Marilou Berry is both sunny and gloomy as Lolita; she has her moments of self-doubt, almost of depression, but is too fundamentally driven, too stubborn, to allow her disappointments to stop her. Her father, Cassard, is played by Jean-Pierre Bacri as a man who has bought into his own hype so completely that he's forgotten he was ever anyone other than the eminent personage he's become (he's forgotten what it was like to be young and insecure like Lolita, and behaves thoughtlessly toward her). As Sylvia, Agnes Jaoui finds a sort of middle-ground between Lolita's self-doubt and Cassard's arrogance; and as her confused husband Pierre, Laurent Grevill projects the right kind of blandness alongside the dynamic Cassard, whom he idolizes but doesn't measure up to (Cassard may be a creep, but he wouldn't be caught dead on a dumb TV show). Jaoui orchestrates the comedy proficiently, eliciting performances that strike a nice balance between comic mannerism and naturalistic credibility (Bacri is especially strong, playing Cassard with an array of tellingly affected gestures while maintaining an undertone of quiet befuddlement). The one word that sums up the movie is "balance": balance between comic intention and essential believability, bitterness and reconciliation, ambition and empathy, intimacy and discretion.