CineM Review: Un Coeur en Hiver (1992)

Cryptic Gazes

‘A Heart in Winter’. Directed by Claude Sautet, this is a story of repressed feelings and repressed individuals. The story itself may be a ‘love triangle’ if you will, or is it a ‘love quadrangle’? Or is it about love at all? This is a story essentially, of the characters of Maxime, Stephane and Camille – all 3 are connected with creating music. Maxime and Stephane are in the business of crafting violins and Camille herself is an up-and-rising violinist. Maxime is a polished social sort cultivating a dedicated clientele. Stephane is the master craftsman; he works away quietly eschewing unnecessary interactions - cutting, measuring, burnishing and beveling the sonorous wood. The violinist Camille stepping onto a cusp of musical greatness is involved in a romantic relationship with Maxime. All these details atleast the film is very much clear on.

The film also shows the extent to which Stephane is introverted; he shares a normal working relationship with only 3 people – his business partner Maxime, a book-seller Helene and a past mentor who is the closest to a father figure that Stephane can call upon. Stephane seems to understand himself but does not like what he reads in himself; that is his major orientation towards the external too – he understands but does not know what he ought to do. Stephane’s life gets shaken however when Maxime gets involved with Camille, and both move in together in a bid to cement their blossoming relationship. For a careful, precise person for whom his craft is his only life, this development creates the first uncharacteristic stirrings in Stephane’s bonded heart. Further developments follow when the normally unobtrusive Stephane steps into Camille’s life in small ways – attending Camille’s rehearsals and recordings, shooting long deep gazes – and Camille too finds herself getting attracted towards the quietness and seeming completeness of the violin-maker. Camille admits her new-found admiration in front of Maxime, and comes over to Stephane. All that has happened till now is conventional romance; what transpires after this point is a bit complicated.

Stephane rejects Camille’s love, explains that he does not love her and only wanted to get back at Maxime for some reason he does not fathom, leaving Camille devastated. In a canvas which seems to abjure passion and vivid displays of emotions, there is a cathartic outburst when Camille barges into one of Stephane and Helene’s usual coffee-table conversations in a café, and confronts Stephane for leading her on when he really had nothing to offer. A sad cycle of remonstrance, bitterness and ultimately, forgiveness involving all the 3 characters flows from all this mess. All these details the film lets us on gradually and sometimes, with stark clarity in tiny delicate moments.

This brings us to the parts where the movie apparently has nothing to communicate to the viewer. Camille who studied for a time under the same mentor as Stephane’s is described by the mentor as the “cold, polished girl who keeps others at a distance” and yet, she inexplicably falls for nothing more than the brooding, intense gazes of Stephane who is to remember, too closed to even venture an opinion in a conversation not involving violins. Somehow this strange attraction may be accepted for love is, if anything, quite inscrutable. However, the bafflement runs still deeper – there is a hint (and nothing else) of a past failed romance to partly explain Stephane’s regressive demeanour; the movie is curiously silent on why Stephane should harbor a resentment towards the suave, worldly Maxime (one can only laboriously infer that Stephane might be nursing a deep jealousy for the easy social grace with which the latter manages his business and his romance), and there is eventually, the added matter of the veneer of sterility in the relationships formed by the principal characters. Maxime (who is to a degree, self-seeking) is willing to leave his wife to live with Camille but is oddly undemonstrative of anything except an altruistic understanding of why Camille should opt for (again the not-obvious charms of) Stephane. The book-seller Helene who is obviously close to Stephane and confides about her love-life in him (in the hope of eliciting a romantic interest??), shares a platonic interest in Stephane’s ‘thing’ with Camille. So, there is Maxime who is obviously in love with Camille who in turn falls in love with Stephane who unfortunately, has no love for her. There is also Helene who may or may not be in love with Stephane. There is also a dense side-story involving the mentor and his lover, a merry but sometimes high-strung duo who may or may not be important in the scheme of things.

The high points of this movie notwithstanding the manner in which the characters sometimes interact, are the masterful performances of both Daniel Auteuil (as Stephane) and Emmanuelle Béart (as Camille). As the intensely private Stephane, Daniel lends great credulity to the hesitant, sometimes deep gazes with which his character views others and the world. One can always sense in any scene involving Stephane that the character is holding a part of himself back so that no one is able to completely perceive him or what he thinks. He is troubled yes, in an unseen way but he is also strangely assured in the way he goes about his trade or garnering the interest of Camille.

The character of Camille attracts a ready lampoon on the guileless but love-lorn woman who is taken for a ride and then unceremoniously discarded. This is where Emmanuelle as Camille, exhibits a singular portrayal of a woman who is scorned but save for that one moment in the café scene, never lacks in grace. Emmanuelle Béart is one of those true Pre-Raphaelite beauties with her long, slender swan-like neck, raven hair, expressive eyes that make one swim with headiness and perfect lips. She lends beauty to everything that she enacts in the movie; of particular mention is the absolutely rapturous manner in which she plays the violin. As she holds up the violin and screws her head slightly upwards, eyes half-closed in deep passion, she embodies the true fiery ornament of transcendental music. She embodies the emotion of love too, in that bridled but lush manner which is the hallmark of a true romance; there is a scene where Emmanuelle wonderfully masks the first flushes of emotion in a violin recital where Stephane directs steady, unflinching looks at her. She starts playing the violin, then becomes conscious of Stephane; there is a tiny imperceptible change in her posture, her music stutters, and she asks for a glass of water.

The perfectly assured manner in which Daniel and Emmanuelle act out their characters, obviously stems from the complete way in which they understood what their characters are and how they should behave. This makes me believe that there is a scope of re-interpretation into the story and the story’s characters, and a more complete understanding. For the moment though, this is a movie which sees some bits, misses a lot and explains little.

CineM’s Verdict:

CineM Review: Oh My God! (2012)

Ir-reverent Reverence

A friend of mine was asked by his mother to accompany her to the temple. He declined saying that after negotiating through the raucous flower- and incense sellers outside, navigating around the beggars which lie persistently waiting by the temple gate, making a wary way in the courtyard avoiding the droppings of goats, pigeons, ducks (animals left behind at the temple by grateful worshippers), and haggling with the bossy priests, he hardly had any ‘faith’ left to offer to the stone deity within. A frank admission was met (predictably) with a loud rebuke from his mother. An honest discussion about God and how to worship Him does not  exist even within the conversational space of a family, which is why a film like OMG deserves to be appreciated for attempting to bring this topic out onto the collective consciousness.

The story behind OMG is a one-line idea so absurd that it is courageous: a man decides to bring in a suit against God for damages sustained by him in an earthquake, which as the insurance people helpfully informed is “an act of God”. As is the case often with one-liners, there exists extensive bedrock behind one man’s frustration with the mechanism through which we think God operates.

This film suitably anchored by the director Umesh Shukla is actually based on a Gujarati play 'Kanji Viruddh Kanji', which was adapted on the Hindi stage as 'Krishan vs Kanhaiya'. A theological comedy-drama which is primarily arguments-based, it relies on the succinct presentation of logical ideas and facts – a feat which is in no small way, hindered by the Bollywood compulsion to have long-winded, often theatrical showdowns not between ideas but between individuals. Bhavesh Mandalia wrote the Hindi play, which has now been married into the Bollywood production mould by the director himself rather harmoniously – the story itself loses none of its cerebral appeal.

As the chief protagonist Kanji Lal Mehta, actor Paresh Rawal does what he does best – browbeat others through sarcastic expressions and sharp statements, but I felt that given the tone here, the film thankfully did not resort to excessive Bolly-drama and cheap generalisations, though there are moments in the courtroom where the arguments are more rabble-rousing than meaningful cognition (the analogy between God & a Anil Ambani is very borderline low comedy). Kanji’s arguments in the court are mostly well-placed and very observational (there’s no heresay; rather it’s the ‘godmen’ who engage in this). At the other end, the pantheon of ‘godmen’ and ‘spiritual custodians’ who are the respondents in this case, are caricatures of self-importance, deceit and dismissive of contrary opinions. Producer-actor Akshay Kumar in the role of modern-day Krishna is left with little to accomplish except guide Kanji towards the right path. Special mention has to be made of Mithun Chakravarty’s performance as the godman Leelavati – the experienced actor incorporates mannerisms (especially with his eyes and hands) so affected and a demeanour so self-righteous you have to wonder at his supposed 'God'-liness. The early part of his performance is masterful pantomime; and when he speaks, he does a good job of carrying forward that same persona. He has a memorable line towards the end when he points at an encircling throng and proclaims with a knowing twinkle in his eyes, “Look closely at them. They are God-fearing, not God-loving people.”

Srimanata Sankardeva (1449–1568), reformer saint of Assam who advocated spirituality based on moral synthesis and awareness, carved out an image of Lord Vishnu from a piece of wood which he found floating in a river, after he got a divine premonition of the same. The saint (who believed in religion beyond ritualism and idolatry) installed it purely as an art-work, which people subsequently started worshipping as another statue of Vishnu. It is sad to note that half a millenia later, our society continues to relate to God in the same transactional manner and is content to worship him as an overlord (mostly menacing) who is meant to be propitiated with worldly milk, sacrifices, chaddars and what not.

The fight against mere transactionalism and the perfunctory is a constant one in this world, whether it be work, relationships or as OMG shows, with God too.

CineM’s Verdict:

CineM Review: The Gunfighter (1950)

Revisionist (or not) Western

The first thing you should know about Henry King’s ‘The Gunfighter’ is this: it is not a Western. Sure, it traces its story in the saloon of a dusty town called Cayenne, and the story demands the ready occurrence of men with guns, and boys with guns. Hence, the setting of the West.

You meet a saloon-keeper unlike any you will come across in the mythically tough Old West – he is girlishly celebrity-struck, presides over his domain like a harried schoolmaster, and is incapable of evicting truant schoolchildren from his porch, forget drunk and rowdy customers. You also meet a town marshal (widely acknowledged to be a hard-as-nails hombre) who is mostly content with setting deadlines, then extending them, issuing terse warnings which go unheeded and pacifying matrons, when he is not acting as a messenger boy between a man and his estranged wife. Finally you meet the gunfighter – a guy with a frank, open face and eyes which twinkle when he meets old acquaintances; who is ready to perform as a town peace office by herding characters with guns into the town jail when the marshal is out, and pacifying a particularly strident women’s citizen delegation with all the diplomatic and conciliatory skills of a town mayor. And this man has toted up a personal body count of 12 men!!

 ‘The Gunslinger’ is a spare story which is sad but has played itself out true before and will, again. There is a man who has committed some wrongs, now attempting to ride away from the destiny which he unmistakably foresees, and then there is a bunch of people, some who would like to be the audience when he meets that fate, and a few who would like to be its deliverer. It is a sad story which dispenses with shining heroes or tenacious villains. You will buy into the premise easily enough, and identify with the man heading towards a fate which you can visualize instantly after the first draw.

 

With a story as spare as this, the screenplay is tight and performances are crisp. The film however, stretches further and wants to up-sell the idea of an identifiable setting with a cast of standard characters acting very un-identifiably just because you have bought into the basic idea. It comes as no surprise that when the gunfighter ultimately meets his fate, it is not on the back of a horse or in a sun-baked dusty street, but on a boardwalk, his head comfortably propped up on a pillow with a blanket laid out and the townspeople congregated respectfully around as if they are at the dying bedside of the town parish priest.

CineM's Verdict