L'Enfer

If ever a movie had "really big production" written all over it, it was this one. Beautifully shot, a cast featuring Emmanuelle Beart, Carole Bouquet, Jean Rochefort and a director who won the Oscar for best foreign film in 2001 with "No Mans Land". Christ, even the opening credit sequence dripped with more money and post production than the average Jarmusch film. Before I decry this film in any way let me say that nobody lets you down easier than the French. OK the director is Bosnian but there's no mistaking this is a French film in every way.

It is never less than lovely to watch as the cast is bedecked as only Parisians could possibly be. It is set in either the early spring or late fall so that compelling sadness of seasonal change that Paris pulls off better than any other city also has you in its grasp. I'm setting this up to ensure you that I wanted to love this film as much as I love the pouty lips of Emmanuelle Beart. All the props were in place to guarantee a successful viewer-celluloid relationship.

Suffice to say then that it couldn't possibly live up to its lofty expectations. The story is one of three sisters who have drifted apart in their adult lives as a result of a rather traumatic family incident that shattered their childhood and changed the family dynamic forever. It is set up expertly, revealing the horrific background to their current lives in small but never stultifying steps. The three sisters are realized beautifully by the three lead actresses showing how simple it is to let 5, 10, 15 years pass in our hectic lives without connecting even with those who are realted by blood let alone by chance.

So far so good so what's missing you may ask. I think the French more than any nation have pushed the cinematic boundaries further than one could possibly hope. Perhaps it's just that we don't get the bad French movies on this side of the pond but I think at the very least when you walk in to a French film you know it will be thought provoking. But I think what is too often missing and is my flaw with this feature is the raw emotion. Every moment is just too calculated. If this film was a band it could never be Guided by Voices at the Shoe it would be Coldplay at the ACC.

Nobody in this film, other than the cheating photographer husband has a discernable occupation. The characters spend every moment wondering where they've fucked up, how they can possibly rectify this and attempting to do so. I suppose we'd all like to live our lives tending to our social selves and I suppose the French as much as anyone have a "right" to negate the workingman's existence as perhaps they feel they've covered that ad nauseaum.

Fair enough, it is a movie and it can cover any territory it damn well pleases, but if when it's all played out and I haven't felt anything the characters have conveyed then it's simply a pretentious intellectual exercise in the world of the bourgeoisie and we're simply running to stand still.

I look forward to Tanovic's 3rd film which might just strike a perfect balance.