Month: January 2022

  • Alad’2 (2018)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) While Alad’2 is technically a sequel to the 2015 comedy Les Nouvelles Aventures d’Aladin, you don’t need to have seen the first film in order to make sense of this one (well, except for the call-backs)—in fact, the sequel aspect of the story following up on Aladdin’s familiar first adventure works no matter how the first adventure was told, and the off-the-wall comic approach may even feel fresher. The (disappointing) framing device has to do with a young man travelling by plane to the wedding of his former flame, and telling an Aladdin story very much influenced by his life to the boy sitting next to him. Within the framing device, we have a madcap, completely anachronistic take on Aladdin’s further adventures — complete with an evil dictator (Jamel Debbouze, returning to the big screen after a few judicious low-profile years following his massive overexposure circa 2002–2012 but still holding on to his showboating tendencies) competing for the lovely princess’ hand. The script throws everything it can think of in the hope that something will stick, and sometimes it does—although the funny factor of cramming an extended reference to Frozen’s “Let it go” is debatable. (Significantly, the gag very specifically relies on the French translation of the song—I wonder how that would get back-translated in English.)  The comedy is quite uneven and when it doesn’t work, it’s bad enough to grit our teeth. On the other hand, a lot of material does work, the special effects get the message across and the framing device helps get to the film’s somewhat unlikely happy ending. Alad’2 is a silly comedy and should be approached as such—fun if you’re indulgent, but probably not worth pondering longer than the end credits roll.

  • The Gallows (2015)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, January 2022) I don’t necessarily object to teen horror movies, dumb premises, annoying protagonist or found-footage films by themselves, but blend those elements together and the result seems almost custom-made to exasperate. Beginning with a VHS-grade camcorder recording of a high-school theatrical play that goes horribly wrong when a teen actor is hanged for real (OK, who designed that set?), The Gallows does itself no favour by skipping ahead a few years and positing that the high school is putting together a revival of that very same fatal play. Seriously? Aren’t you just begging evil spirits to do their work at that point? But there’s even worse to come, since, as annoyingly chronicled through various handheld shots, the teenage characters are all as exasperating as they can be. There’s scarcely a difference to be made between protagonists and villains here, as they are all apparently as dumb as they can be while still passing their courses, and all blithely unconcerned about courting disaster with their new project. When they all start dying, well, it comes as a relief—the supernatural presence acting as a culler of the exasperating, cleaning house and leaving the school in marginally better shape once the caskets are buried. Yes, it takes a lot for me to cheer for the antagonist, but writers-directors Travis Cluff and Chris Lofing ensure that The Gallows handily earns that distinction within fifteen minutes of opening. Die, theatre students, die—and try not to leave a stain on the gallows so that it can be re-used. Because of course there’s a sequel… and it’s not any better.

  • Trigger Point (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) Either I’ve seen too many hitman dramas lately, or Trigger Point is the dullest, most obvious possible film in that subgenre. An unfortunate low-budget product of Canadian Content requirements (I’m proud of Canadian films, but not this one), Trigger Point makes a tepid blend of very familiar genre elements, starting with a semi-retired special operative (Barry Pepper, probably the most affordable “name” actor they could find) asked for one last mission by a former boss. That, for most genre fans, should ring alarm bells: he’s obviously being set up to be killed by his former mentor and, well, that’s the plot right there. But ah-ha, you hope, if the premise is lame, maybe the execution will be better? No such luck, alas: Director Brad Turner can’t make magic with the material and budget he’s working with, so all we’re left with as slightly awkward sequences of actors holding their guns, glaring each other and occasionally taking a shot. While I like the idea of a hitman drama being shot in and near Hamilton (Ontario), it’s not even the best such film—have a look at Things I Do for Money instead. But back to Trigger Point: there’s no escaping that this is a dull retelling of familiar genre tropes with no flavour whatsoever. More generous audiences will appreciate the small-town atmosphere, but there really isn’t enough here to satisfy. Pepper gives it all he’s got, but there’s little for him to do in the script he’s going through. Colm Feore is a highlight as always, but that doesn’t mean much when compared to the rest of the film. It’s said that the film could lead to a possible trilogy, and the only rational answer to that is a quiet “Please, no. That’s enough.”

  • Unaccompanied Minors (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) As far as holiday comedies go, Unaccompanied Minors remains most distinctive today for being a pre-stardom film from comedy director Paul Feig, an interesting collection of known comics in cameos, and a premise (kids without supervision in a snowed-in airport) that could have gone to interesting places. Unfortunately, there isn’t much of a spatial restraint even in a snowstorm, as Unaccompanied Minors only spends its first act in the airport before going away and diffusing its own mounting tension. Lewis Black is in fine form as a cranky anti-Christmas airport manager, but it’s noteworthy that the ensemble cast of young kids doesn’t sport many recognizable names—instead, you’ll have to look at the cameos for nice roster of circa-2006 American film comedians in small roles. It’s disappointing that the film couldn’t make the most of the assets at its disposal: Trying to dismantle teenage angst in time for the holidays sounds nice, but the film doesn’t quite get the balance right between the slapstick and the drama, and moving the plot away from the airport (well, other than tracking one father’s odyssey to make a tough drive to pick up his kids) ends up lowering the temperature of the result. Unaccompanied Minors is still watchable, not objectionable in the least… but a bit disappointing.

  • I’m Fine (Thanks for Asking) (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) I don’t like admitting it, but when it comes time to pick and choose my BET channel movies, I will gleefully go toward low-budget romances, silly holiday comedies, or formulaic thrillers, and shy away from social issues drama. It took me an embarrassingly long time (and first seeing several bottom-of-the-barrel suspense films) before deciding to give a chance to I’m Fine (Thanks for Asking). I plead compassionate exhaustion: When a TV Guide log-line explicitly says that the film is about a homeless mom pretending to her daughter that they’re on an extended camping trip to save the kid from worrying, I can think of roughly a thousand films I’d rather see instead, and doing most of my household chores on top of those. The only thing that drew me back into the film was that it was classified as a comedy. A comedy, for one of the most excruciating personal crises I can think of. Well, after seeing the film, “comedy” is stretching it in a film that does have a single mom battling incredible odds not to be homeless… but it’s not that much of a stretch. Despite desperate circumstances compressed in barely more than a twenty-four-hour period, some deeply uncomfortable sequences and a vicious physical altercation, I’m Fine (Thanks for Asking) keeps a surprisingly light tone throughout much of its running time. This is not the film shying away from its bleak subject matter: Writers-directors Kelley Kali and Angelique Molina (who also both star) find a way to make their point even in lighthearted conversations as the protagonist struggles to keep up appearances over her own desperation. The casual incomprehension and dismissal of the people she encounters comes across loudly even when the film keeps things light, and the dissonance between tone and topic definitely works in favour of the results. There are plenty of other nice little touches here and there: clearly shot in pandemic-dominated 2020, the film features characters sporting face masks without discussion. The potential for the protagonist to turn toward prostitution is handled in a very deft and nearly-deceptive fashion. A “nice guy” scene is terrifyingly irritating, despite the film clearly signposting where it’s going. Despite a micro-budget production (reportedly funded in part through pandemic relief checks), the film hits most of its targets and benefits from some pretty good actors—Kali is immensely likable as the protagonist, and she shares some credible rapport with Brooklynn Marie as her best (but frequently insensitive) best friend. The script is nicely put together and supports the no-frills execution. In other words, and this shouldn’t be a surprise by this point in the review, I’m Fine (Thanks for Asking) is a small gem—almost certainly one of the best BET movies currently available on the channel, and one that takes a few welcome risks to portray a situation that could have been played for mawkish melodrama by lesser talents. Give it a try—it’s much better than most of the more easily-accessible films broadcast on the network. It certainly earns its happy ending.

  • Fanny (2013)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2022) (This review addresses both the 2013 versions of Marius and Fanny, so closely are they related) I have now watched three takes on Marcel Pagnol’s Trilogie Marseillaise: the original 1930s French duology, the 1961 Hollywood version that blended all three volumes in one lengthy film, and this, a 2013 diptych that brings the first two volumes to life. My favourite, blasphemously enough, remains the Hollywood version: Not only does it compress the entire trilogy into a single film, it features the iconic performances of Maurice Chevalier and Charles Boyerin two key parts, plus Leslie Caron in one of her most attractive roles. While this 2013 version of the story benefits greatly from a more fully lived-in presentation of the sets and a more naturalistic approach to the acting, it’s cruelly missing a compelling cast. Director Daniel Auteuil doesn’t do badly with his ensemble of actors (including himself in a lead role), but they don’t measure up to their predecessors. Choosing to tell the story in three films also leads to at least two vexing problems: The first, obvious one is that the pacing of the story becomes languid. While 1961’s Fanny was a delight because of the amount of plotting it crammed during its running time, this adaptation takes forever to make basic plot points and challenges the patience of movie audiences. Less obviously, this decision to split the story in three parts leaves the project open to a worse case scenario that, indeed, happened: the filmmakers and their financial backers lost interest in concluding the trilogy, meaning that the third volume was never produced and will never exist using this cast and approach. As a terminal case of narrative frustration, it’s reason enough to go back to 1961 for full satisfaction. I still liked these newer takes on Marius and Fanny quite a bit of it: the wonderful Marseilles accent is on full display here, and the sense of place created by modern filmmaking does give this version of the story its best reason to exist. Still, and I realize that I’m belabouring the point, you really don’t need this version if you’ve seen the Hollywood one. Watch it if you’re a completionist or if you’re curious to see how it compares to previous versions. Otherwise, you risk terminal narrative frustration.

  • Marius (2013)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2022) (This review addresses both the 2013 versions of Marius and Fanny, so closely are they related) I have now watched three takes on Marcel Pagnol’s Trilogie Marseillaise: the original 1930s French duology, the 1961 Hollywood version that blended all three volumes in one lengthy film, and this, a 2013 diptych that brings the first two volumes to life. My favourite, blasphemously enough, remains the Hollywood version: Not only does it compress the entire trilogy into a single film, it features the iconic performances of Maurice Chevalier and Charles Boyerin two key parts, plus Leslie Caron in one of her most attractive roles. While this 2013 version of the story benefits greatly from a more fully lived-in presentation of the sets and a more naturalistic approach to the acting, it’s cruelly missing a compelling cast. Director Daniel Auteuil doesn’t do badly with his ensemble of actors (including himself in a lead role), but they don’t measure up to their predecessors. Choosing to tell the story in three films also leads to at least two vexing problems: The first, obvious one is that the pacing of the story becomes languid. While 1961’s Fanny was a delight because of the amount of plotting it crammed during its running time, this adaptation takes forever to make basic plot points and challenges the patience of movie audiences. Less obviously, this decision to split the story in three parts leaves the project open to a worse case scenario that, indeed, happened: the filmmakers and their financial backers lost interest in concluding the trilogy, meaning that the third volume was never produced and will never exist using this cast and approach. As a terminal case of narrative frustration, it’s reason enough to go back to 1961 for full satisfaction. I still liked these newer takes on Marius and Fanny quite a bit of it: the wonderful Marseilles accent is on full display here, and the sense of place created by modern filmmaking does give this version of the story its best reason to exist. Still, and I realize that I’m belabouring the point, you really don’t need this version if you’ve seen the Hollywood one. Watch it if you’re a completionist or if you’re curious to see how it compares to previous versions. Otherwise, you risk terminal narrative frustration.

  • First Reformed (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) While Oscar-nominated First Reformed was a critical darling throughout 2018 all the way to the early-2019 Academy Awards season, I somehow missed it. Of course, my life was tumultuous at the time, and delving into Oscar-bait wasn’t high on my list of priorities. Still, a few years later—why not have a look? As it turns out, this is a film best appreciated away from the hype, as a good-faith effort to make sense of global issues in an intimate context. Featuring Ethan Hawke as a minister of a small congregation in the American North-East, the film goes well beyond its rural setting: writer-director Paul Schrader has nothing less than the world in mind when the pastoral meets the global. Trying to deal with a young man in full environmental collapse panic has the minister rethink his priorities, and having to deal with the aftermath of an ill-advised affair doesn’t help either. There’s no denying that First Reformed is a slow burn—the kind of film that I enjoy more as background material than active watching. Its dialogue-driven nature certainly helps it remain viable under divided-attention circumstances. Frankly, I enjoyed it more under those circumstances that if I had tried to give it my undivided attention. Visually, the film isn’t much either: it takes advantage of its rural setting but doesn’t go beyond it, and the slow pacing doesn’t require constant attention either. I don’t necessarily endorse the film’s barely-repressed pessimism, but I admire its willingness to tackle big issues in a small setting, the space left for the actors to deliver dramatic performances, and the meticulous approach to its intimate material. (This is all the more interesting considering Shrader’s filmography as a tough-guy movie screenwriter.)  I’m not saying that First Reformed would have been among my choices in that year’s Oscar derby… but it’s more interesting than I expected, especially when watched under specific circumstances.

  • Stand! (2019)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) It took me a very long time, far more than I would have anticipated, for me to warm up to Stand!—and even then, the film limped across the finishing line, barely above what I’d consider to be the strict minimum. I’m as surprised as you are—after all, I have a well-documented linking for musical comedies, and taking a look at one obscure and inglorious aspect of Canadian history (the Winnipeg General Strike of 1919 and let’s be clear: the “inglorious” part of it was the government overreaction, not the strike itself) is squarely in my wheelhouse. But I am picky about my musicals, and the one style that grates on my nerves is the earnest have-everybody-sing kind of stage musicals, of which Stand! is a sometimes too-faithful adaptation. The result is a film that doesn’t have the grace and power of good film musicals: under Robert Adetuyi’s direction, it simply feels like a film with songs awkwardly inserted in the middle of the narrative, and with no striking choreography to speak of. Focusing the story on an immigrant Romeo-and-Juliet romance is laudable, but it also muddies much of the historical records that the film should represent (let alone hammering more modern language in an attempt to add further thematic weight in a story that already has plenty of it). Things get better toward the end of the film, as the sakes are raised and the songs become more self-assured. But while Stand! eventually works its way to a not-terrible conclusion, it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that it could have been much, much better.

  • The Many Saints of Newark (2021)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) As anyone else with a working knowledge of 21st-century American pop culture, I’m aware of the Sopranos in broad detail despite never having watched much of the show. I was certainly aware of the challenge of this ignorance in watching prequel movie The Many Saints of Newark: would it make sense to a neophyte viewer? Or would it be crammed with an endless parade of references? The answer is half-satisfying: in trying to present the formative experiences of series lead Tony Soprano, writer/showrunner David Chase provides enough of a lifeline to enjoy the film as a period crime film. Michela De Rossi is audience-friendly as the new immigrant bride who experiences this new environment—while she’s not the movie’s lead (and leaves well before the film is through), she helps introduce us to the ensemble cast as mob matters and racial violence come to dominate the Newark, New Jersey surroundings. The story is occasionally strong enough to work as a standalone low-stake crime film, but that’s not necessarily an endorsement of The Many Saints of Newark for those new to the Soprano universe—even to those who never watched the show, the film is crammed with puzzling moments that clearly herald a cameo by a character that would be significant in the series, and it goes without saying that a good chunk of the film’s dramatic ironies and portents are completely lost on neophytes. Still, the film does have gripping moments, whether it’s sudden explosions of violence (either social or personal—that honking scene), and credibly portrays on a limited budget the impact of the racial riots of 1967 over a mixed neighbourhood. There’s an interesting ensemble cast even if most performances are short and allude to something else. It could have been worse (such as the shrug left by Ray Donovan: The Movie, a very similar project released almost simultaneously) but let’s not try to pretend that The Many Saints of Newark marks an effective entry point into the Sopranos’ continuity.

  • The Cobbler (2014)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, January 2022) If The Cobbler is remembered for anything these days, it’s for having earned some disastrous reviews for both star Adam Sandler and writer-director Tom McCarthy. The bad reviews thing is not new for Sandler, but for McCarthy, it was a rare misfire in-between Academy Award nominations. As a reviewer, my first order of business in (belatedly) tacking The Cobbler was to determine if it was as bad as they said, and then (when the first point was proven) understanding how things went wrong in this story of a cobbler discovering a magical way to become those who leave their shoes with him. To sum my thesis up in a pithy statement, what happened was a classic mismatch between star and material, as well as between expectations and delivery. The Cobbler, at its heart, is meant as a piece of fantasy, taking a look at the local heroes that become part of the landscape—such the small shop owners that give heart to a neighbourhood. It’s a drama with odds twists and turns that would have made more sense had the film been executed as a low-budget independent film with character actors and low expectations. But putting Sandler in such a framework creates a monster—Sandler being Sandler, he can’t help but put his own stamp on the result, upsetting its balance. The other monster being created is that expectations for the film scale up to an unsustainable level, and in a broad comedy genre that the film had no intention of aiming for. I’m not calling The Cobbler a misunderstood classic, mind you: even in the best possible circumstances, it’s an odd assortment of moments that don’t work and can’t work in anything approaching mainstream sensibilities. There’s a blend of comedy, fantasy, crime, drama, tragedy and blunt-force emotional manipulation that feels like an assortment of leftovers blended together more out of daredevil glee than flavour consistency. Still, what we have here are not ideal circumstances: Sandler doesn’t fit as a humble Brooklyn shopkeeper, and he always jumps at the chance to broaden the film’s comedy beyond its shape. It doesn’t help that the premise feels too dumb to suspend disbelief, and that most of the plot developments barely make any sense. Whatever the film was going for by literalizing “walking in other people’s shoes” is lost when everyone attempts to do a Sandler impersonation. (Or worse: Sandler’s character using other bodies as ways to be mischievous and possibly a rapist.)  And the ending—ho boy, the ending. It doesn’t amount to an unjustly overlooked film: it amounts to a bad film, but a bad film whose flaws were made unforgivable by Sandler trying to get some serious creds from McCarthy (admittedly a ploy that was worked at least three other times) and McCarthy trying to get box-office clout from Sandler. The result is still a mess, and one that teeters on the edge of “You have to see this” if only to suffer through the ticker-tape parade of bad decisions that led to the final result.

  • Le vrai du faux [Real Lies] (2014)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, January 2022) As much as I’ve got some homegrown pride for the French-Canadian film industry, it’s not infallible and it has some built-in failure modes that often undermine its best intentions. Low budgets are definitely a factor, but on a creative level, the bigger issue is how Quebec-focused films with aspirations of popular success have to reach for comedy in order to make it past the media filter. (The occasional exceptions are historical films.)  That often leads to some curious tonal issues, as exemplified by Le vrai du faux. While eventually pitched as a meditation on what’s true in fiction and what’s fictive in truth, the film struggles almost endlessly between its best intentions and its low execution. As a French-Canadian director of action movies strives to silence his critics by striving for weightier material, he lands on the idea of directing a raw documentary on the struggles of a PTSD-afflicted Afghanistan veteran. That’s not exactly comedy material, but you wouldn’t know it for much of the film. After all, it’s headlined by comedian Stéphane Rousseau, populated by more comedians in supporting roles, driven by comedic screenwriting (all the way to a ridiculous supporting character meant as a satire on overly sensitive males), and clearly patterned as a comedy by veteran director Émile Gaudreault, also best-known for comedies. Except that the film decides to be serious in portraying the veteran’s struggles, giving voice to his frustrations at not being understood by his family, delving into the source of his trauma, and arguing for more sensitivity. But at the speed and unpredictability at which the film flips moods are such that the entire thing feels like a misguided concept: there’s no way this premise should have been a comedy. Except that comedy sells French-Canadian films. Le vrai du faux is not quite a disaster : if you focus on the comedy at the risk of trivializing an important subject matter, the film gets a few solid lines (even if it mishandles some other material, such as a protagonist so lacking in self-awareness as to court caricature), and the idea of transporting the action from Montréal to the sweeping alien vistas of Thetford Mines’ open-air quarries is something that brings a lot of visual interest to the film. (Cue the director character being enthusiastic about the cinematic qualities of the setting.)  It plays with a steady forward momentum despite a few odd turns, but the ending feels trite because it’s stuck between the comic requirements of its shifting tone and the more serious subject matter that it can’t quite satisfy. But that’s the reality for Quebec films aspiring at box-office success… although there’s some cold irony in noting that Le vrai du faux still ended up being a box-office flop even by French-Canadian standards.

  • The Shack (2017)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) As someone who’s not targeted nor receptive to Christian-themed filmmaking (yes, the irony is thick), it took me a long time to get to The Shack. After all, the story surrounding the film is arguably more interesting than the film itself. The novel on which it’s based was initially written for a family audience, then was turned into a self-published book that slowly gathered attention thanks to marketing focused on religious audiences. Eventually becoming a best-selling mainstream sensation, the book’s ultimate destination to the big screen seemed a foregone conclusion given the small-but-robust market segment for such films. Executed with some talent and a budget generous enough to accommodate the special effects work required by the plot, The Shack did relatively well for a religious-themed film: it made its costs back, got great reviews from its intended audience and not-as-bad-as-expected reviews from mainstream critics. (To be clear: the critical consensus on the film is negative, but not as overwhelmingly so as many other similar films packed for religious audiences.)  Seen today, now that the hype of the book and the film have died down, what remains is half-silly and half-spiritual but not intolerable. The worst plot contrivances happen early on, as a series of happenstances are combined with the intervention of a child serial killer (!) to send our grieving protagonist (Sam Worthington) in a self-destructive spiral of guilt and self-loathing. That’s already asking a lot of good will from the audience, but the goal of such a preposterous setup is to have the protagonist reach a spiritual awakening by having him “imagine” a meeting with God, as personified by Octavia Spencer (also Graham Greene), Aviv Alush and Sumire Matsubara. That casting is indeed God-like, and it’s set against a luminously idyllic British Columbia backdrop. What’s perhaps as surprising as it is underwhelming is what God says—feel-good platitudes that often have more to do with modern self-actualization gurus than anything in the Bible. It’s not uninteresting, mind you—but the gap between divine profundity and what the script delivers can be more than just annoying. As far as conversations-with-God go, it meets the bare minimum but often feels far too pat to be fully convincing. This being said, I still liked it—there’s an intention to make this as soothing and comforting as possible (with occasional shocks) that plays well despite the wild framing material. Arguing with The Shack is practically mandatory: it’s very amusing to read how the book and the film got bad reviews from both secularists and theologians. At least the production values are high enough that it feels like a real movie rather than the poor low-budget efforts so prevalent in that market segment. And let’s not underestimate the power of casting: there’s some built-in viewing pleasure in seeing those industry veterans Spencer and Greene finally add “God” on their resumés. I’m still not ranking the film all that highly, but I’ve definitely seen worse, and would rather see The Shack again (maybe fast-forwarding over the framing device) than many other acclaimed yet intolerable films out there.

  • L’odyssée (2016)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2022) At first glance, the idea of a warts-and-all biography of French oceanographer Jacques Cousteau seems both essential and redundant: Cousteau is nearly a modern-day icon, his work in vulgarizing ocean science having reached generations of people. (Although his influence is definitely waning decades after his death—today’s younger audiences may be more familiar with the Wes Anderson parody of him in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou than having experienced his TV specials first-hand as I did as a boy.)  Is there more to say? Well, yes: While L’odyssée doesn’t quite stand as a definitive take on the man, its multi-decade narrative spanning everything from the immediate aftermath of WW2 to the 1980s offers glimpses at a man who had a tumultuous personal life, scientific ambitions that were left behind by the modern world, and personal failings that were magnified by his fame. At slightly more than two hours, the film has trouble fitting all of the biographical material in itself (Cousteau’s wartime heroics are definitely given short thrift) but still manages to cram a lot in there. As befitting its subject, the film does feature some great underwater footage and decent production values despite often reaching beyond the confines of its budget. Cousteau’s ascendancy to media fame is portrayed methodically, as are the issues inherent is transforming solid-but-dull science into something made for the masses. Cousteau’s marital indiscretions are mentioned, but you will have to step out of the film to learn more about his “second family.”  The same goes for much of his tainted legacy and the gradual fading of his dreams of underwater colonization—mentioned but not dwelled upon, as Cousteau’s later years were definitely not as glorious as his heydays of media fame. Still, the film serves as a visually interesting primer on Cousteau-the-man as compared to the legend. Lambert Wilson does well in a good role spanning decades of aging, as does Audrey Tautou in an often-inglorious role as the wife reminding Cousteau of his obligations to their relationship. As most flashy biopics go, L’odyssée is best watched as a condensed collection of high points rather than a serious biography: but it did spur me to read Cousteau’s Wikipedia pages (The French one is more complete) and learn a lot about him in the process. There are defendable choices in how his story is presented on-screen, choosing an Antarctic endpoint more triumphant than the slow fade (and financial implosion) that his career experienced to the end. But that’s the nature of biopics—celebrate the highs, acknowledge the lows but leave audiences on a high note. Not good science or history, but good entertainment. Cousteau would probably chuckle at the parallels.

  • Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, January 2022) It’s a good thing I’m watching Only Lovers Left Alive now rather than upon release, as I simply would have dismissed writer-director Jim Jarmusch’s vampire meditation as self-indulgent twaddle. Oh, I haven’t become a big Jarmusch fan in the meantime, but I can at least now recognize when he’s trying something that goes beyond plot-driven genre fare. I may even have developed some tolerance for meditative filmmaking focused on mood rather than narrative. Not that narrative is entirely absent here, but it certainly takes a back-seat to atmosphere and dialogue, as the film focuses on a pair of long-lived vampire lovers pondering how to live in a twenty-first century that frequently confounds them. There’s some interesting character study in the Byronic romantic tradition here, with Tom Hiddleston as a musician trying to keep his profile low even while dismissing humans as zombies. Then there’s the ever-alien Tilda Swinton as his lover/muse trying to keep his suicidal impulses in check, and John Hurt briefly popping up as a vampire Christopher Marlowe, having secretly written Shakespeare’s body of work. There isn’t much point to the entire thing, as the story goes from Tangiers to Detroit and back—and if you’re expecting horror, even the blood-drinking killing is all very muted. But there are a few interesting moments here for those tired of the same-old vampire shtick: Jarmusch turns a character-first lens to familiar tropes and what he gets out of it may not be that startlingly original, but it’s reasonably interesting as long as you’re in a receptive mood. Jarmusch is in his own subgenre, and you can either like it or leave it. I thought it was better than many of his other films, although the romantic angle doesn’t allow for the comedy that characterizes some of my favourite films of his. As a result, there’s a limit to how much I liked Only Lovers Left Alive—but I certainly didn’t hate it, and that may not have been true a few years ago.