Denys Arcand

Stardom (2000)

Stardom (2000)

(On Cable TV, September 2019) The interesting cinematic conceit on which Stardom is built remains intriguing twenty years later: What if we saw the rise and fall of a supermodel entirely through camera lenses, as if a mad fan collected her TV appearances and home videos in a compilation video? Jessica Paré convincingly stars as a Cornwall (ON) hockey player plucked out of obscurity to become a fashion supermodel, loving and leaving a trail of men in her wake (including a restaurateur played by Dan Aykroyd). Executed at the turn of the century and taking place in a media-saturated environment, Stardom has aged significantly more than many other movies of the time, but it’s already showing signs of being a period piece rather than being dated: the references dwell in the late-1990s, and a circa-2019 take would have more cell phones and social media than we could stand. It does take a few minutes to get used to the collage aspect of the film (save for a brief introduction and a quiet epilogue, we get “in the camera” early on and escape the structure of a typical narrative), but its effectiveness does start to build, especially when we realize that the years are accumulating and the scope of the story is going from Cornwall to New York and places beyond. Could it have been better? Well, yes—as much as it’s enjoyable to piece together the narrative of the protagonist’s life through indirect and often misleading footage, it’s not much of a story. The satire is fine but typical (news reports from the past two decades have made the same point over and over, cutting away from mass tragedy to celebrity gossip) while stock characters abound. Writer-director Denys Arcand does know what he’s doing, though, and the mixture of French-Canadian and English-Canadian actors (plus notables such as Frank Langella) is interesting in its own right. Intriguingly, Stardom does have its built-in distancing mechanism: as interesting as it can be for movie geeks to see a film told through surface footage, there aren’t that many pathways to what the character is thinking or feeling: This is akin to a second-grade biography made of media clippings rather than interviews with the subject. Our protagonist is often used by other people making their own points, which is part of the lesson. Still, Stardom is more than worth a look on a purely experimental level, as an exploration of what cinema can do once it gets away from its own conventions. I’m a bit surprised that the film remains obscure outside Canada, but that’s the nature of non-stardom.

Le déclin de l’empire américain (1986)

Le déclin de l’empire américain (1986)

(Second Viewing, In French, On Cable TV, July 2019) In French-Canadian circles, Le déclin de l’empire américain is as close to a classic as it comes—it was a big box-office success, was nominated for an Oscar, spawned two sequels (the second of which actually won an Oscar, still Canada’s sole Foreign-Language Oscar), became one of French-Canada’s most successful cultural export, made writer-director Denys Arcand a superstar and marked a generation. I recall seeing it as a teen, but missed (or forgot) much of the film’s meaning until seeing it again. The very strange thing about it is that in many ways, it’s an anti-movie. Its plot could fit on a napkin with enough space left to wipe your mouth. There isn’t much in terms of cinematography (although some of the camera shots are quite nice). But what the film does have is a nearly steady stream of dialogue from beginning to the end, alternating between the low and the high. Le déclin de l’empire américain is about a few characters, most of them intellectual, university professors, preparing for a weekend at the cottage and then chatting during the weekend. Much of the dialogue is about sex, and the remainder about highbrow intellectual concerns spanning history, philosophy, sociology, and non-specific politics. There is a definite The Big Chill sensibility to the way the characters all congregate as friends for a weekend in a secluded location, but that’s a misleading impression, as these characters have secrets that they’re keeping from one other, and the amiable companionship detonates late in the film. But that’s the only bit of plotting in a film that’s meant to be heard for the dialogue going from scabrous to scholarly in the blink of an eye. I guess that as a cultural ambassador, it doesn’t hurt for French-Canadians to have been portrayed as lusty intellectuals across the globe—although I’d caution that most of us are far less obnoxious than the hedonistic degenerates shown here.