Not Rated
Cast: Josiane Balasko, Garance LeGuillermic, Togo Igawa, Anne Brochet, Ariane Ascaride, Vladimir Yordanoff, Sarah LePicard, Jean-Luc Porraz, Gisele Casadesus, Mona Heftre, Samuel Chache, Valerie Karsenti, Stephan Wojtowicz
Director: Mona Achache
What a charmer this film is. Darkness and innocence are certainly not an unusual cinematic combination, but can be tricky to pull off. Twenty-something director Mona Achache has meshed the two quite well in her feature film debut.
The movie is a sweet observation of self-discovery. Dysfunction and isolation play a role here, as the story focuses on two inhabitants of an upscale Paris apartment building... the aging, frumpy, seemingly-cantankerous super whose social internment is self-imposed, and a soon-to-be-twelve-year-old girl whose cloistered existence is the result of familial dysfunction. This isn't necessarily a deep movie, but profundity can sometimes be the offspring of a pretentious mind. The story is essentially an awakening of perspective, and alterations to one's outlook needn't be deep to be life-changing.
Paloma Josse (Garance Le Guillermic) plans to take her own life on her twelfth birthday. She tells us this via a film camera handed down by her father that she uses to document the reasons behind her decision. She's not some outwardly volatile kid devoid of perspective, but a precocious girl with too much of it. She sees the fishbowl existence her life will inevitably become, and wants no part of it. (Notice the way she lifts her glasses above her head to film with the camera, then immediately pulls them down when she's done... this is a girl determined not to miss a beat.) She is dismissed by her father, ridiculed by her sister, while her psychoanalyzed and over-medicated mother talks more lovingly to her plants than to her. Paloma is not fraught with emotion over her decision; she's at peace with it.
One morning, an elderly tenant in the building is found deceased. Paloma films as the body is wheeled from the apartment. This is a crucial scene, as Paloma only connects with the idea of death at this point; not with the life that came before it. Indeed, the only person shedding a tear is her mother, but such emotions mean little when they're a dime a dozen and shed by a perpetually-medicated matron.
Paloma's keen observations soon lead to Miss Michele (Josiane Balasko), the building super who's perceived as a second-class citizen by the inhabitants. To most, the extent of social interaction with Miss Michele is demanding that she clean or fix various things in the building. And yet the woman doesn't seem to miss pleasant conversation; she fulfills her duties, but feels no obligation to warm up to those making a request. She keeps to herself, favoring classic literature over simple conversation. Paloma is fascinated, most notably by Miss Michele's seemingly effortless ability to remain hidden. She compares her existence to that of a hedgehog... prickly on the outside but refined on the inside.
That sentiment is shared by the kind-hearted Japanese widower Kakuro Ozu (Togo Igawa) who has taken up residence in the recently-vacated apartment. Upon meeting Miss Michele, Kakuro instantly senses her love of literature and manages to seize her attention by quoting "Anna Karenina." (Tolstoy is Miss Michele's favorite author; she named her cat Leo.) He is persistent in his interest though she is reluctant... not so much from previous heartbreak (though she did experience it) but from too many years of self-imposed isolation.
The movie takes place exclusively within the confines of the apartment building, yet never feels too narrow or restricted in scope. The understated, shadowy cinematography and production design offer up an atmosphere both limited in joy yet sated with middling comfort. We can see how tenants could spend a life of acceptable repose here without experiencing the slightest bout of unbridled happiness.
Both Garance Le Guillermic and Josiane Balasko are successful at engaging our interest without evoking our pity. That's critical to the story's success. Miss Michele may be unfairly dismissed by others, but her ability to love again is in her hands alone. And to call Paloma suicidal is a bit of a misnomer. She's not tortured to a point of pity; she just needs an adjustment of outlook.
The film contains moments of both sweetness and tragedy. (Melancholia is built in to stories like this.) At the conclusion is the reality that perspectives aren't set in stone, and are inventions of our own being. Changes to our lives are gifts we give to others. Changes in our perspectives are gifts we give to ourselves.
* * * out of * * * * stars
The movie is a sweet observation of self-discovery. Dysfunction and isolation play a role here, as the story focuses on two inhabitants of an upscale Paris apartment building... the aging, frumpy, seemingly-cantankerous super whose social internment is self-imposed, and a soon-to-be-twelve-year-old girl whose cloistered existence is the result of familial dysfunction. This isn't necessarily a deep movie, but profundity can sometimes be the offspring of a pretentious mind. The story is essentially an awakening of perspective, and alterations to one's outlook needn't be deep to be life-changing.
Paloma Josse (Garance Le Guillermic) plans to take her own life on her twelfth birthday. She tells us this via a film camera handed down by her father that she uses to document the reasons behind her decision. She's not some outwardly volatile kid devoid of perspective, but a precocious girl with too much of it. She sees the fishbowl existence her life will inevitably become, and wants no part of it. (Notice the way she lifts her glasses above her head to film with the camera, then immediately pulls them down when she's done... this is a girl determined not to miss a beat.) She is dismissed by her father, ridiculed by her sister, while her psychoanalyzed and over-medicated mother talks more lovingly to her plants than to her. Paloma is not fraught with emotion over her decision; she's at peace with it.
One morning, an elderly tenant in the building is found deceased. Paloma films as the body is wheeled from the apartment. This is a crucial scene, as Paloma only connects with the idea of death at this point; not with the life that came before it. Indeed, the only person shedding a tear is her mother, but such emotions mean little when they're a dime a dozen and shed by a perpetually-medicated matron.
Paloma's keen observations soon lead to Miss Michele (Josiane Balasko), the building super who's perceived as a second-class citizen by the inhabitants. To most, the extent of social interaction with Miss Michele is demanding that she clean or fix various things in the building. And yet the woman doesn't seem to miss pleasant conversation; she fulfills her duties, but feels no obligation to warm up to those making a request. She keeps to herself, favoring classic literature over simple conversation. Paloma is fascinated, most notably by Miss Michele's seemingly effortless ability to remain hidden. She compares her existence to that of a hedgehog... prickly on the outside but refined on the inside.
That sentiment is shared by the kind-hearted Japanese widower Kakuro Ozu (Togo Igawa) who has taken up residence in the recently-vacated apartment. Upon meeting Miss Michele, Kakuro instantly senses her love of literature and manages to seize her attention by quoting "Anna Karenina." (Tolstoy is Miss Michele's favorite author; she named her cat Leo.) He is persistent in his interest though she is reluctant... not so much from previous heartbreak (though she did experience it) but from too many years of self-imposed isolation.
The movie takes place exclusively within the confines of the apartment building, yet never feels too narrow or restricted in scope. The understated, shadowy cinematography and production design offer up an atmosphere both limited in joy yet sated with middling comfort. We can see how tenants could spend a life of acceptable repose here without experiencing the slightest bout of unbridled happiness.
Both Garance Le Guillermic and Josiane Balasko are successful at engaging our interest without evoking our pity. That's critical to the story's success. Miss Michele may be unfairly dismissed by others, but her ability to love again is in her hands alone. And to call Paloma suicidal is a bit of a misnomer. She's not tortured to a point of pity; she just needs an adjustment of outlook.
The film contains moments of both sweetness and tragedy. (Melancholia is built in to stories like this.) At the conclusion is the reality that perspectives aren't set in stone, and are inventions of our own being. Changes to our lives are gifts we give to others. Changes in our perspectives are gifts we give to ourselves.
* * * out of * * * * stars
