Rues of Roo

Something about Federer that oozes class. Love this ad. (Made last year before Wimbledon 07 in case anyone is counting)

While you’re at it, you -must- watch this too.

 

I remember the first time I ever saw Audrey Tautou in ‘Amelie’. To be quite honest I thought she was such a bizarre femme Francais. Little did I know that that alone was testament to her accomplishment as an actor.

I never did see her following two widely screened performances. The first, I forget the name, was about her as some psychotic woman, the second, the Da Vinci Code, I never bothered watching (and no, not because I boycotted it as an anti-Christian movie, just because I heard it was crap).

However, watching ‘Priceless’, or Hors de Prix, as it is known in native tongue, I confess her performance to be rather intriguing, captivating, and so very different from the rather querky little girl that I saw so many years ago in Amelie. I wouldn’t say that it was ‘Oscar’ worthy, but I did enjoy her performance, growing from a gold-digging young woman to an essentially smitten girl with the poorest guy in town, drawn together only out of respect (or disillusionment perhaps) with someone in the same trade as herself and thence sharing a common, albeit unwitting for him, interest. It is furthermore amusing that she begins to burden herself with imparting her knowledge and ‘skills’ to satiate his, or rather, her, insatiable greed.

But having lavished all that praise upon Mdme Tatou, I must say the performance of Gad Elmaleh is equally entrancing. His initial appearance as a sartorially inept, socially inadequate (though you know his confidence lies within, only his insecurity lies with his wallet, or lack of it) individual transforms dramatically throughout the movie.  His rather deadpan, sorrowful face, by the end has a very charming and sophisticated feel to it. Amazing what a nice suit and tie (and watch) can do to a man. He reminds me somewhat of Adrien Brody. Uncharacteristically handsome.

It really is a very amusing show, full of comic, cringe worthy moments, and if you look past the rather disturbing reality that such occurrences are more than real and rather unfortunate in manner, a rather nice romantic flick. A favourite is the scene which is oft shown in the trailers where Jean (Gad Elmaleh) shows off his new, EUR30,000 watch to Irene (Audrey Tautou), posing and answering her question of the time with ‘Nine diamonds past’. Classic. Simply classic.

Go and watch.

I can hardly recall a movie that has brought up such emotions such as this. What I find amusing is how I initially wanted to write about Leonidas and his abs, but somehow the aggression and passion and glory has been sucked right out of my soul and instead has been placed with a rather sweet serenity that could kick the karma out of any monk in Tibet. Okay, so maybe there’s a bit of aggression still lingering.

But last night I watched Paris je t’aime, literally, Paris, I Love You, which has been critically acclaimed and given the usual gloss over by the critics. Yes, it has 18 short stories supervised by 20 directors throughout the various arrondissements of Paris, and yes, it is in French, spoken badly in parts (by Americans no less). Yes, it has Elijah Wood in some vampire thing and Natalie Portman too. But anticipation, as with anything, is key, and it was with a vague gravity that I set my heart upon this movie. A friend wrote ‘I find it hard to believe that one can find true art in a cinema every other week for just $7’ and I would have to agree. More often than not, most critically acclaimed ‘art house’ movies have baffled me. If I’m honest, that is. Sure, you can find the hidden meaning no doubt, and you can talk and discuss and critique the production, but to truly enjoy it? Well, that’s another story altogether.

And so it was with Paris, je t’aime, that a series of short films more than surprised me, and more than captivated me. Stories that were all about love, love that was lost, love that had died, love that was resurrected and love that was sacrificed. Love that was missed, in death, and love that somehow manages to survive. Poignant images of a cheating husband who through initial sympathy, regains his love for a dying wife, amusing scenes of a father and his grandchild, stranger still of mimes falling (metaphorically perhaps?) into love.

Natalie Portman and Melchior Beslon

I shall not delve too much into the storyline lest those who have yet to see it miss out on the little surprises. But by an inch, or maybe three, my most favoured story was that of Natalie Portman and her love, the blind Melchior Beslon. Perhaps it’s the lingering memory of Portman’s performance in Closer that still so captivates me, or simply just her innate ability to play the somewhat erratic, but yet vulnerable, strong willed woman. Yet combined together with the performance of Beslon as her blind love, it so encapsulated the sort of exploratory, new, changing, evolving, emotional, spontaneous love that can sometimes so cry out from the depths of one’s heart. It was also, I suppose, the raw reality of it all, containing that care-free attitude that you so often have with those you are closest to, that ability to take on the world, and of course, the charm of the beauty of a girl like Portman falling in love with a guy like Beslon.

A close rival (perhaps nudging that three inches back to one) is Isabel Coixet’s short based in Bastille (I suggest at this point you skip to the next paragraph should you not wish to know the ending of this story) regarding the husband who, on the verge of cheating on his wife decides to love her, or at least act like he does, when he discovers her severe medical condition. Inevitably in doing so, his love for her is rekindled in such a bittersweet manner that it is apt that it is the red overcoat that so distinguishes the wife, and this story in particular, that graces the poster for Paris. That it is he who suffers later is but a worthwhile epilogue for the choices that he made. Regret, for him, is not even an issue. His love, unquestioned. His suffering, all too real.

Nick Nolte and Ludivine Sagnier

It was not that all 18 short films were truly marvelous. Indeed, some of them were just plain bizarre, like the episode involving the Chinese hairdresser and what I could’ve sworn was a Kit Chan soundtrack (though even this episode had quite a poignant note on identity and the east and west), but rather the shorts themselves felt like an old friend. Comfortable, relaxing, amusing, intriguing. Sometimes when you read a novel, the first few paragraphs can make or break your interest, and these shorts seemed to capture that moment of attentiveness perfectly. Those that were mediocre were short enough for you to let them pass. Those that were wonderful lingered in your mind, like the wonderful aftertaste of a good wine. Sip by sip, you take this movie in. And by the end of it all, a sigh, not of sadness, but rather of satisfaction, sits upon your heart.

If there is but one criticism, it is the fact that there is a rather poor attempt at joining the eighteen together at its end. That and the rather sad nature of Elijah Wood and his eternal association as being Frodo. Poor Mr Frodo.

Other than that, though, this movie is, like any wonderful friend, a must see.