A Very Long Engagement (Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2004) – Jeunet’s follow-up to the incomparable Amélie is a transcendent romance, a complex mystery (with no shortage of whimsy) and a chilling evocation of the horror and futility of war, as Mathilde (Audrey Tautou) searches for her fiancé, one of five soldiers sentenced to death for desertion at Bingo Crépuscule three years earlier. It’s an extraordinarily successful melding of apparently incompatible moods and genres, full of vividly-drawn supporting characters (Marion Cotillard’s vengeful prostitute, Jodie Foster’s selfless wife) and featuring one of the only good trump-related gags in all of cinema (“Doggie fart, gladdens the heart”). It’s also beautifully shot, scored and acted – a treat for the eyes, ears and soul. (4)
***
Welcome to the Sticks (Dany Boon, 2008) – The most successful French film of all time – in terms of domestic box-office receipts – is a completely charming culture-clash comedy set in Nord-Pas-de-Calais, the oft-maligned home of star, co-writer and director Dany Boon. Kad Merad is a post office manager in the south of France who tries to wangle a move to the Riviera, but instead winds up in “the Ch’tis”, a deceptively friendly part of the country marked by its uncomplicated lifestyle, smelly delicacies (smellicacies) and a litany of eccentric quirks of speech. It’s classic feelgood fare, with fun performances all round and some fantastic gags. (4)
***
The Informant! (Steven Soderbergh, 2009) is like The Insider played for laughs, as chubby, moustachioed agri-business management nerd Matt Damon turns whistleblower on price-fixing for the FBI, though that's only the beginning of his hilarious, jaw-dropping – and true – story. Dealing in generalities, I tend to enjoy Soderbergh's "serious" films (like King of the Hill and Traffic) far more than his so-called "entertainments", (such as the Ocean's movies), which are often thin and superficial. Here, he eradicates that distinction, taking the bold decision to shoot this serious – though quirky, bizarre – material as a screwball comedy, incorporating a jaunty score and a brilliantly odd characterisation from Damon (complete with outlandish first-person narration), and it pays off superbly, creating an important but offbeat and wildly entertaining, even caper-ish, movie that deals deftly yet properly with heroism, hypocrisy and corporate greed. (3.5)
***
"Nuff people say, you know they can't believe: Jamaica, we have a bobsled team." Cool Runnings (Jon Turteltaub, 1993) – A very entertaining – though almost entirely fictionalised – comedy-drama about the Jamaican bobsled team that competed in the 1988 Winter Olympics. It’s at its best when being sincere, rather than opting for cartoonish characterisation and cheap sight gags, but it’s well-played throughout, and stuffed full of punch-the-air moments. (3)
***
Paris vu par... (Various, 1965) – This portmanteau portrait of Paris and its people is better than the more recent effort (Paris, je t’aime), though not nearly as airy or profound as Eric Rohmer’s trio of tales (Les rendez-vous de Paris), as six New Wave directors offer short stories set in the City of Light. The first three, from the lesser-known filmmakers, are all excellent: Jean Douchet’s Saint-Germain-des-Prés offers romantic twists and turns much in the manner now associated with Rohmer, Jean Rouch provides the ironic, eerie Gare du Nord, and Jean-Daniel Pollet’s Rue Saint-Denis serves up some light relief, as a worldly-wise prostitute runs rings around a nervous Buster-Keaton-a-like. Sadly the last three chapters (from the marquee names) aren’t as good: Rohmer’s thriller about a nervy clerk who may have killed someone is interesting but minor, while both Godard’s story of a capricious two-timer – which hangs on a wry pay-off – and Chabrol’s story of an unhappy boy with warring parents feel forced and uninspired. It’s still worth it on the whole, though, especially if you’re that way about Paris, as most people probably are. (3)
***
Rain Man (Barry Levinson, 1988) - Yuppie twat Tom Cruise finds out that his father's inheritance is going to the autistic brother he never knew he had (Dustin Hoffman), so he swipes his sibling from an institution and holds him for ransom – while taking him on a lengthy road trip. It's flabby (how much wordless footage of two men in a car do we really need?), the Las Vegas stop-off seems like wish-fulfilment, and it might have been more helpful to make a movie about an autistic person WITHOUT superpowers, but Hoffman is magnificent, Cruise isn't far behind and that "Rain Man" sequence in the bathroom remains wonderfully affecting. (3)
***
Me Without You (Sandra Goldbacher, 2001) - A familiar but unusually effective, unsentimental story of childhood soulmates – outgoing, confrontational Anna Friel and introspective, mousey Michelle Williams – falling in and out of friendship against the backdrop of '70s and '80s Britain. There are a few wrong notes (an early line about Belsen lands staggeringly wide of the mark), but the film feels admirably real in its emotional and dramatic messiness, there are a few nicely-realised directorial flourishes (particularly at the start of the 1989 section) and the important performances are good, from Friel, her screen brother Oliver Milburn and particularly Williams, offering an early masterclass in vivid and varied feeling. (3)
***
Julia Misbehaves (Jack Conway, 1948) – A pretty good change-of-pace for one of Hollywood’s favourite dramatic teams, as flirtatious showgirl Greer Garson heads back to ex-husband Walter Pidgeon’s house for the wedding of their daughter (Elizabeth Taylor). It starts a bit shakily, and there are some very iffy “English” accents on show, but it picks up momentum as it goes along, and Taylor is absolutely excellent in a key transitional role, whether sparking off Garson (in the film’s best scene) or suitor Peter Lawford. (2.5)
***
What’s Your Number? (Mark Mylod, 2011) – A vacuous annoyance (Anna Faris) enlists the help of a total idiot (Chris Evans) to help her track down her ex-boyfriends, so she can marry one of them and thus keep the total number of people she's had sex with to 19. I absolutely hated this. It’s just hideous from start to finish, with detestable characters, witless dialogue and a horrible way of looking at life and what it imagines to be love. Chris Pratt provides a couple of amusing moments and Aziz Ansari does a late voice cameo, but it’s a while since I felt so angry or disgusted at a movie. What’s my number? My number is (1). Now fuck off.
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