Best Performances: Emmanuelle Béart

With the title L'Enfer (meaning Hell) and a story by famed French suspense master Henri-Georges Couzot, you cannot help but have some idea about what you're getting into. Paul works hard at managing his fledgling hotel and never gets enough sleep, and right at his side is his beautiful wife Nelly carrying her share of the load while raising their young son. Stress takes its toll on Paul as he begins hearing voices and suspects Nelly of straying into a young car mechanic's arms. And that's just for starters!

L'Enfer follows the one-track mind of Paul and never deviates from the theme of jealousy. Over time we see Paul transform from a pitiable figure into a despicable monster, and apart from a couple wobbles Francois Cluzet capably handles the task. Emmanuelle Beart is even better as Nelly as she deftly handles a wide range from the radiantly bouncy bride to the confused & frightened subject of scorn. The further the movie goes, the more we see slightly modified replays of earlier scenes because of the single-minded nature of the screenplay. Still, director Chabrol achieves his goal of depicting a marriage completely crumbling through one man's inability to accept the keystone building block of trust.

Simple story masterfully told, Manon is the sequel to Jean de Florette in which the reclusive daughter of the hunchback who was killed for the water on his land learns the truth and sets a course for revenge. These stories might comprise the best 2-part package in French cinema history; knowing the events of the first is required to understand the motivations in the second, and absolutely essential to experience the shocking revelation to its fullest.

As with Jean de Florette, everything about this production is superlative, from the gorgeous countryside visuals to the rich orchestral soundtrack to the artistic compositional framing to the outstanding acting. Aged Yves Montand gives a towering performance of a character who ranks among the all-time greatest screen villains and pays an ultimate price of regret. Equally memorable is Daniel Auteuil who has never been better as Montand's nephew, bringing to life a pathetic simpleton who is both loathsome and pitiable. Another shining performance comes from the incomparably beautiful Emmanuelle Béart who shot to stardom as Manon the goat shepherdess. She doesn't have many lines in her solitude, instead reflecting her curiosity and distrust through her wondrous eyes, but when she does speak her outbursts carry that much more impact. Perhaps her finest achievement is racing up and down those precarious goat trails without tumbling into the emergency room!

I watched this last night for the first time since sitting in a college theater 20 years ago and could still vividly recall the big revelation scene as it unfolded which again packed an emotional punch as momentous as Darth Vader's at the end of Empire. If I had to choose, I'm inclined to say Jean de Florette is slightly better because of Gerard Depardieu's galvanizing presence, but with Manon des Sources we get Béart and a resonating conclusion to this 2-part masterpiece.

"Men declare wars, men make peace. All we do is wait around and keep quiet. That's why we go crazy. They just don't realize..."

Seemingly personal film from Regis Wargnier that leaves the audience in the cold about the characters and also bites off too much in attempting a time-and-globe-spanning drama that shifts from Berlin, Paris, Damascus, Indochina, Nancy, and Algeria across 1939 to the 1950's in just 90+ minutes. We don't learn much of anything about this particular French woman Jeanne (Emmanuelle Beart) except that she is powerless to control her rampaging cooch each time her husband Louis (Daniel Auteuil) is dispatched by the military to another part of the globe. I mean, she doesn't even try!

The production design for a war-torn 1944 Berlin, although limited in screen presentation, is quite spectacular, and the ravishing Beart gives mostly a very good performance - it's easy to see why so many men fell at Jeanne's feet as she's the most gorgeous creature on the planet. She has a memorably spirited dance (fueled by the liquid kind of spirits) in a red dress that reminded me of Anita Ekberg in La Dolce Vita. Auteuil could have been replaced by a statue for most of the first half but finally comes alive once the family divide becomes too wide to ignore. Watchable but unremarkable drama beyond Beart's beauty.

Once the end credits roll, you may think to yourself that Les Egarés doesn't add up to much. Or you may see it like me and find a lot of value in those little pieces. The film follows a mother and her son & daughter fleeing from Paris in June 1940 as the Nazis invade. Soon they encounter a streetwise - or in this case, countrywise - youth who knows more about survival than the three of them combined. They stumble upon an abandoned luxury house far from the German warpath and have serious choices to make about their futures.

I learned a little bit about the hardships of French citizens during the WW II occupation and experienced a little bit of rushing fear as German planes drop their bombs. The 4-way dynamic between the characters forms the core of the film with the varying degrees of experience each person has creating a separate layer to explore: the hopeful yet pragmatic mother, the bluntly realistic loyal son, the quizzical innocent young daughter, and the bold resourceful stranger who is not all he claims to be. Emmanuelle Béart delivers a strong, resolute performance, as does newcomer Gaspard Ulliel. The other child actors also contribute seamlessly, which is vitally important since Béart is the only adult present during most of the film. The ending came rather unexpectedly & reminded me of Cuckoo's Nest without the underlying inspirational message. Nevertheless, with Les Egarés I found the parts greater than the sum.

"Music is the stuff of dreams."

Despite the implications within the title, I was not expecting such austerity. The heart under examination belongs in fact to withdrawn luthier Daniel Auteuil and is the object of frustration to his business partner's mistress, violinist Emmanuelle Beart. Usually those roles are the other way around, at least in American films, so that represents something of a divergence.

Auteuil is a master at his profession and draws all of his satisfaction in life from his work and the sounds his instruments create. He is not a recluse but cannot open up to anyone and finds no value in emotional attachments. Through no fault of his own devising, he eventually finds himself at odds with his closest associates. The message seems to be that if you repress your ability to feel emotion, you're actually hurting yourself even worse. In fact Auteuil expresses a line to that effect in her apartment. The final shot of Beart pulling her eyes away from the cafe window where Auteuil sits as her car drives off is rather haunting and we are left in his shoes wondering what could have been.

Other than violin passages at rehearsals and recording sessions, there is interestingly no soundtrack so we feel the same cold vacant space that Auteuil otherwise occupies. Although I have long suspected, I am now convinced enough to put in writing: Emmanuelle Beart is the most beautiful actress since Grace Kelly. And watching a beautiful woman playing beautiful music is my idea of heaven on earth. She practiced the violin every day for one year to prepare for this role, and the results pay off - naturally they overdubbed in postproduction (one year doesn't turn you into a virtuoso) but she actually plays all the complicated pieces and convincingly demonstrates that she could handle them.

Unsatisfying character study of two women who share an unhealthy relationship throughout the years. Pascale Bussieres is Louise, a periodontist, who is the more possessive and Emmanuelle Beart is Nathalie, a stage actress, who prefers a more open lifestyle. The depth of their intimacy is not clear until about midway through, and similarly much of the rest of their relationship lacks clarity for the viewer to get intricately involved. It doesn't help that Louise is manipulative and selfish, yet she's preferable to Nathalie's playwright boyfriend Matthias (Dani Levy) who redefines the epithet 'asshole.' I felt sorry for Nathalie caught between these negative influences, but then she too abruptly changes her behavior which left me wondering whether several scenes got accidentally left on the cutting-room floor?

The English title I have seen attached to this film is Replay, but actually 'La Repetition' means Rehearsal as Nathalie attends a series of rehearsals for a play by a big-name producer, much to the anger of Matthias. Is this a metaphor for her life, that she is doomed to repeat the same role with these malcontents until she summons the strength to find and accept her true nature? I believe that's giving writer/director Catherine Corsini too much credit by trying to do her work for her.

The challenge: watch my first French movie without the benefit of English subtitles in 10 years. Can it be done?? Ya do what ya gotta do when you want to watch something badly enough, and I did have the assist of French subs which proved invaluable. The reason for this preface is so you know where I'm coming from - I did not follow every word spoken but still managed to understand 70-80% (proud of myself there) of the dialogue and follow 97% of the story.

On The Left After Exiting The Elevator refers to the apartment inhabited by sheltered artist Yann, played by French comedy legend Pierre Richard who when I was a kid was known by me as "the guy with the hair" for his Harpo-like locks. He has a hidden passion for married socialite Fanny Cottencon and invites her to see his studio but picked the absolute wrong time as volatile neighbor Richard Bohringer has a violent argument with his wife Emmanuelle Beart. A zany two-set apartment farce ensues involving Three's Company-style misunderstandings, a vintage war pistol and a pistol replica cigarette lighter, unexpected visitors, people dangling precariously from balconies, police interventions, and slamming doors which happen so often they even get a credit!

The first hour of this madness is very funny stuff, Richard has terrific comic timing both physically and verbally - a scene where he is tryng to explain a gunshot to the police but continuously confuses the details is a hoot. Beart is breathtakingly beautiful and has a knack for comedy herself, too bad she didn't pursue more opportunities. The last 20-30 minutes turn slightly more serious and is more intent on resolving the complications which isn't completely satisfactory. By that point my head was spinning a little from trying to keep up with the language so I may have missed a point or two.

Vinyan details the dreamlike - make that nightmarish - search by a couple living in Thailand for their missing son into the jungles of Burma. Their slow boat journey up remote waterways starts as Apocalypse Now and ends in an encampment of wild children which could be called Lord of the Thais.

As a narrative, Vinyan has little depth. Emmanuelle Béart is stubbornly resolute as Jeanne, convinced her son is still alive, whereas Rufus Sewell as Paul vacillates between supportive husband and grim realist. They argue. They search. They argue. They search. And that's about it, which leaves the intended shocking/surprising ending with no foundation to crumble.

Lots of sights and sounds fill the screen with intent to disorient and not everything happens in reality. Unfortunately, the film doesn't work as a sustained sensory nor experimental experience either. There are a few scattered eye-opening moments, like a mysterious opening title sequence that makes sense later on, a spirit ceremony with large floating lantern balloons, and an incredible dilapidated wood & brick jungle palace.

Most of the time, however, all we are doing is watching Jeanne and Paul slog through mud, rain, overgrowth, and undergrowth. This location shoot must have been very difficult for the actors, after a week's filming I would've been on the phone chewing out my agent, "What have you gotten me into?!??!" I was feeling more sorry for the actors' plight than the characters', which is a sure-fire sign that your movie is not working.

Engaging whodunit set in roughly the 1930's as 8 women are trapped one snowy day together after Catherine Deneuve's husband is discovered murdered in his bed. Once forced to confront each other, enough skeletons come barging out of the closet to re-enact the undead army in Jason and the Argonauts.

This is a real treat for French cinema fans with a dream cast including Deneuve, the stunning Emmanuelle Beart, Virginie Ledoyen, then-newcomer Ludivine Sagnier, and scene-stealing Isabelle Huppert as an uptight spinster. Everyone is solid and enjoying themselves as the tone never veers into heavy drama, despite the adult themes. The audience is soon clued into this when the first musical number is absurdly sprung 20 minutes in! That's right, this parlor murder mystery features a song for each of the ladies to perform, which they do with their own voice a la Moulin Rouge. The lyrics shed a little light on each character but are essentially inconsequential, the songs are mere vaudevillian diversions. Some might find these interludes ridiculous, which they are and in almost any other movie I would be rolling my eyes too, but for whatever reason I enjoyed these flights of fancy. They all know how to deliver a tune!

Much backstory is overlooked and the way the film ends is not completely satisfying, but this amusement park attraction is well worth the ride.

Many bad choices in this potentially intriguing story of twisted love and double-cross. You'd think Harvey Keitel would make an ideal NYC cabbie, instead he said to himself "hey, you know, this time I think I'm a-gonna throw in a little aboriginal mysticism into my character 'cos I just saw an article in National Geographic - didn't read the whole thing, but I think I got the gist." At least he settles a longstanding bar bet here by proving that he is the world's worst interpretive dancer. Meanwhile Emmanuelle Beart fluctuates within the space of a scene - she expresses herself in English decently, but extracting a true performance becomes more difficult with a limiting script like this. Her scenes with Keitel are undoubtedly awkward, and that's even before they do the nasty. Then it's like watching the Venus de Milo get used as a coat rack for a tattered leather jacket.

The story gets a little kickstart once Beart's true motive is revealed, but quickly squanders that momentum. She has better chemistry with Norman Reedus, and the scenes between them with her silent yearning are the best in the movie - not what a director of a thriller should hope to achieve! Dumb plot points seal its doom, the biggest of which is the driving element: Reedus' obsession with finding his girlfriend's killer, a man who drove a cab with a scratched door and wore a ring and red jacket. You'd have a hard time narrowing your suspects in Little Rock, Arkansas the next day with that profile, let alone 3 years later in the city with more cabbies than Larry King has failed marriages.

What a pathetically limp title too, a more accurate one would be D-Minus Crime.