Director: Andrew Haigh
Runtime: 95 minutes
An emotional highwire act from start to finish, Andrew Haigh's 45 Years instantly takes its place as one of 2015's finest dramas. More than just a showcase for two acting veterans, this adaptation of David Constantine's short story is taut, restrained, and quietly haunting. Haigh, switching gears slightly after the gay-themed Weekend (as well as HBO's Looking), has once again proven himself to be an wise-beyond-his-years observer of romantic relationships. Stars Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay do beautiful work throughout, but the behind-the-camera contributions are equally magnificent.
Unfolding over the course of a week, 45 Years drops us into the lives of Geoff and Kate Mercer, who are about the celebrate their 45th anniversary. Kate hates parties, but goes through the motions of setting everything up, while Geoff readies a speech for the event. Business as usual is interrupted, however, by the arrival of a letter. The body of Geoff's first love, Katya, has finally been discovered, decades after disappearing near a glacier. After so many years of sweeping the painful incident under the psychological rug, Geoff is forced to confront the finality of Katya's fate, while Kate reels from the implications of her husband's relationship with the dead woman.
The interplay between Rampling and Courtenay is so seamless that the film never has to strain to create a believable relationship between the leads. Of course they're together. Of course they love each other. But the introduction of the frozen body (preserved, more or less, as it was in 1962) brings the trauma of the past into the harsh light of the present, throwing off of the balance of Geoff and Kate's dynamic. Haigh's script wastes no time in introducing the letter, yet by then we already feel anchored in this couple's history, despite knowing almost none of it.
As Katya and Geoff's history comes out, 45 Years remains remarkably composed as it wanders into tricky emotional territory. Haigh's framing, which often captures the two leads in the same shot (as opposed to using alternating close ups) keeps us at just enough of a distance. Like Geoff and Kate, 45 Years puts up an impressive poker face, letting down its guard only in crucial moments. It's as if we're watching two people realize that years of relative happiness may have been built on false (or at least incomplete) information.
This most strongly resonates in Kate's story. Despite Katya being Geoff's former lover, the script delves more into Kate's mindset. She is, awkwardly, the third wheel whenever Katya comes up. Even when Geoff recounts Katya's disappearance (masterfully done by Courtenay), there's a sense of removal. How can Kate ever truly know she's being told the full truth about the relationship, or what happened, after so many years? This starts an emotional domino effect, as more questions flare up in Kate's mind. Her marriage was genuine...but was there something lingering in the back of her dearly beloved's mind the whole time?
To the benefit of the actors and the film as a whole, Haigh refuses to provide clear cut answers. Without ever turning Geoff into some potential villain, Haigh gently casts what he says in a shroud of mystery. While Geoff puts up defenses, Kate goes, in a roundabout way, on the offense. Her interest in Katya never devolves into paranoia. Haigh guides the emotional turmoil with a steady hand, and the actors follow suit. Rampling, always a pleasure to watch, hasn't had this good a role since Under the Sand, and she makes the most of every glance and gesture. Each new discovery prompts some new change in her relationship with her husband, and it unfolds so naturally that there's never a false beat. A critical scene set in an attic is wrenchingly good. Told entirely in a drawn out push in on Kate's face, the scene is a masterclass of restrained emotions simmering up to the surface.
Every bit as important is the finale, which gives the film a sense of closure without either spelling everything out or leaving it all too ambiguous. Every bit of 45 Years is so beautifully directed, including Haigh's decision to forgo a score. The relationship between Geoff and Kate is presented with such care and such precision, that music would have only interfered. There's enough echoing in the minds of the characters as is...
Grade: A
Director: Francois Ozon
Runtime: 93 minutes
It seems strange to think that a story involving prostitution could double as a coming-of-age tale and/or character study. Yet the mix has been fertile ground for the likes of Chabrol's Violette, Bunuel's Belle du Jour, and most recently, Von Trier's Nymphomaniac. Joining the pack of this peculiar sub-genre now (frankly, I'm surprised it took so long) is French director Francois Ozon. The prolific auteur last hit American shores this time last year with the excellent In the House, and he'll likely have another project landing here somewhere in 2015. Suffice to say, the man moves quickly. Ozon's current gift may not deserve the superlatives thrown at In the House, but Young and Beautiful, a simple, efficient story of a self-managing teen prostitute, certainly has its merits.
When we first meet Isabelle (lovely newcomer Marine Vacth), we see her through the lenses of her kid brother's binoculars. Unaware that she's being spied on, Isabelle removes her bikini top for a lazy afternoon of sunbathing in beach in southern France. Despite this blatantly objectifying opening, Ozon is quick to undermine the notion that Isabelle is nothing more than empty Gallic sex appeal. Once Isabelle returns home from her summer vacation (during which she both turns 17 and loses her virginity), she immediately decides to set herself up as a sex worker.
Ozon has always avoided the laborious route when it comes to revealing motivation, but his approach here leaves one to wonder if there will be any point in the subsequent scenes. His filmmaking is as smooth as ever, and he never allows a scene to outstay its welcome. Yet the cost of such economical writing is that it puts more focus on the specifics of the scenes and characters.
Despite its undeniable aesthetic competence, what keeps Young and Beautiful from joining the ranks of Ozon's finest is how surprisingly mundane everything feels. The script and direction avoid shock value or graphic detail (unlike, say, Nymphomaniac), but they also refuse to fully develop the ideas trapped just under the surface. Isabelle leads a double life filled with falsehoods, yet she can't stand the theater, which is built upon all sorts of artifice, from actors to sets. Though the film does feature a scene with Isabelle running into a client at a theater, the moment remains detached from its underlying irony.
More satisfying is an encounter with a client who insists on oral sex, and then drives Isabelle home while blasting opera music. This juxtaposition of the carnal and the sophisticated, enhanced by the sleek editing, is the sort of thing that Young and Beautiful cries out for more of. On the flip side, Ozon's cheeky sense of humor is also largely absent. The film never strains for a dark or uncomfortable laugh, but these moments are rare and they evaporate almost before they're delivered.
However, Young and Beautiful is not without its various successes. Ozon's pacing is commendable, as always, yet the real draw here is first-time performer Vacth. A model-turned-actress, the 23 year old handles the role with aplomb under Ozon's guidance. The film also works best when it captures Isabelle's adjustment to her secret profession, and the fallout that accompanies one unexpected meeting. This isn't a case of an untrained performer giving a "good enough" performance; it's an assured, effortless debut that hints at (hopefully) greater things to come as/if she pursues the craft further. Geraldine Pailhas delivers strong work as Isabelle's initially oblivious mother, and her confrontational scenes with Vacth are easily the best acted.
Were it not for Vacth's peculiar, quiet radiance, best in show honors would go to a crucial cameo from Ozon regular Charlotte Rampling. Though her role is best unspoiled, the character is responsible for helping Young and Beautiful, and Isabelle's journey, avoid coming off as completely without growth or maturation. As always, Rampling takes mere minutes of screen time and injects years of feeling into them, to the point where she starts to offset the film's undercooked subtext. In its final scenes, Young and Beautiful starts to push past its routine narrative path and tap into the rich psychology bubbling underneath. Ozon has tackled complex emotions with shocking efficiency before (ex: his 2001 masterpiece Under the Sand), which is why his latest is a hint underwhelming despite its overall success. The efficiency and smooth storytelling remain, but unlike past efforts, Ozon has opted to leave the more enlightening aspects a bit too far off shore. They remain visible, but like Isabelle's brother in the opening scene, you'll need a pair of binoculars to really get a good look.
Grade: B/B-
Director: Barnaby Southcombe
Runtime: 87 minutes
I, Anna, the directorial debut of Barnaby Southcombe, is exactly one third of a good movie. It is also roughly one third of a good performance from leading lady Charlotte Rampling. Unfortunately, before one can get to the film's good third, one must first trudge through the (admittedly well-photographed) first two thirds, and they aren't easy going. Despite rescuing itself in the last act, I, Anna takes far, far too long to become consistently compelling, resulting in a semi-admirable misfire, rather than a promising debut.
Based on the novel by Elsa Lewin, the film follows Anna Wells (Rampling), a 50ish divorcee who spends many a night making the rounds at speed-dating events across London. One night she goes home with the agressive George Stone (Ralph Brown), who is found murdered the next morning. Enter DCI officers Bernie Reid (Gabriel Byrne) and Kevin Franks (Eddie Marsan), who believe Stone's death is linked to drug-smuggling violence.
Yet before I, Anna can even hit the 15 minute mark, Southcombe's pacing has already become a large hurdle. Despite some nice musical touches via the score, and some moody and nicely framed shots, the plot remains sluggish. It doesn't help matters that two divergent paths - Anna's seemingly normal life and the investigation - both take ages to intertwine, but also feel as though they've been written far too vaguely. After being introduced to Anna, the story's jump to the investigation is a distraction that takes up equal time across the first hour. It doesn't help matters that Byrne's performance fails at subtlety and emotional reserve. Rather, he comes off as sleepy, and even a little bored, even at the film's emotional high point. Marsan does his best to liven things up by at least injecting some energy into his role, but it's too thin a part to make much of a difference.
As for Rampling, she's quite good once the films lurches into the final act. Yet for the first hour (58 minutes, to be precise), the film requires her to be so distant and opaque that there ends up being precious little for her to do. There are occasional shifts across her face or in her eyes that she communicates well, but the first hour or so is annoyingly thankless and underwritten. If it weren't for the final 30 minutes, I'd be tempted to label the film a criminal waste of a supremely talented actress.
However, I can't deny that the final half hour did engage me, both from a narrative and emotional standpoint. This isn't a case of a film being a slow-burner (though it is pleeeeeeeenty slow). This is a case of a film miraculously finding its footing just in time to end on a borderline satisfying note. The final act not only affords Rampling the chance to delve into richer emotions (make that any emotional at all), but it gets to the bottom of a key part of the story, one which you'll have figured out loooooooooong before the detailed revelation arrives on screen (to be fair, the key flashback is somewhat arresting). For the first time, I, Anna develops a sense of momentum and purpose, and it's a shame that it happens so late in the game. Southcombe goes too heavy on atmosphere for almost an hour, and then tries to reconcile this by giving his full attention to performances and storytelling at the end. It's hard to get too harsh, considering that it's Southcombe's debut, but it is indicative of a problem one often sees in directorial debuts that enter thriller territory: narrative drive and character building are suffocated by labored attempts at atmosphere.
In fairness, once Southcombe starts getting to the emotional core of his story, he achieves some decent results, at least with Rampling (who also happens to be his mother). Yet, as is often the case it these sorts of films, the good stuff is too little, and comes too late. It's not that Southcombe's film doesn't showcase promise, because it absolutely does. There's just too little promise scattered across roughly 90 minutes to get terribly excited about.
Grade: C
