The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

True story: Author and Elle magazine editor Jean-Dominique Bauby, age 43, suffered a stroke in 1995 that rendered him almost completely paralyzed, though his abilities to think and communicate were unimpaired. In this debilitated state he actually DICTATED HIS ENTIRE AUTOBIOGRAPHY by blinking his left eye. If you're like me, though that is decidedly amazing, it also sounds like it makes for a really really boring movie.

Fortunately whoever made this movie has a better imagination than I do, so it was more than just two hours of a man blinking one eye. It was actually a pretty good (if understandably somber) movie.

Here's Bauby's one statement that impressed me the most: "I have decided to never feel sorry for myself again."

I kind of feel like now I'm required to watch My Left Foot.

OSS 117: Lost in Rio

This movie made me laugh. It's possible that the wine helped, but I think I would have laughed anyway. On the other hand, I'm sure it's not for everyone. Whenever I got to giggling, Hud would give me the "are you crazy?" look and ask what was so funny. The first few times I tried explaining it to him and his response was always something like, "I know. What's so funny about that?" Sigh.

It's pretty much a cross between a James Bond movie and Get Smart, except in French. The main character is a French super-spy who is, of course, quite  handsome and debonair (can you imagine any other kind of French super-spy?) but is also incredibly chauvinistic. He's the kind of person I might want to slap in real life (and he does get slapped), but I had no trouble laughing at him in a movie. Even so, the ladies love him (and, apparently, some of the men do too).

One thing that amazed me about this movie was how everything looked absolutely vintage--of course the clothes, cars, furniture and actors (no anachronistic Mark Ruffalos here), but even down to the colors and camera angles. When I ordered this from netflix I was sure it was a newer movie, but while watching I had to look it up to make sure it wasn't filmed in the 60s. (It wasn't. It's from 2009.)

This is actually a sequel to a 2006 movie called OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies. That one's on my list too.

Caché (Hidden)

I am stalking Bride of the Screen God's movies. I'd not heard of this one until I read her review of it about a month ago. I think what made me decide to watch it was her mention of the "WTF ending." It was kind of like a challenge--would I be able to figure out what was going on?

Apparently, the answer to that question is . . . no. I was still sitting there waiting for an explanation when all of a sudden the credits were rolling. I think I have figured out who sent the tapes--my guess is that it was two of the characters in collusion with one another, neither of whom was Majid; the two in question are shown having a conversation in the very last scene--but I'm distinctly uncertain. My explanation is mere hypothesis. Even if I'm right about the "who," I'm not sure I understand the "why," especially for one of the two.

It's funny, because although there were many long moments where nothing much happened in the movie, every bit was imbued with suspense. Nothing was happening, but I felt continually sure something was about to, and this kept me on the edge of my seat. There was one unexpected Holy Crap moment, tempered by disbelief (would it really go that quickly?) but the rest of the film was surprisingly devoid of startling events.

I'd never noticed it before, but it's funny how much Angry Juliette Binoche looks like my sister when she flips out. Not like I'd mistake one for the other, but their mannerisms are very similar. You wouldn't want to experience it.

Russian Dolls

Yet another French movie. At least I know why this one ended up on my netflix queue--the actor in the lead role (Romain Duris) also played the main character in The Beat That My Heart Skipped, so I'm sure it popped up as "other movies you might like." Too bad this one is a sequel . . . now I have to watch the first one, L'auberge espagnole.

I spent most of the movie wondering if the title refers to those Russian nesting dolls (you know, those hollow little painted pear-shaped wooden dolls that pull apart at the middle to reveal successively smaller and smaller dolls inside). After I tried continually but unsuccessfully to figure out how this movie is like those dolls, Xavier comes right out and explains it in the last five minutes. He's talking about finding the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, and the way you have to go through a procession of people in your search. "You have to open them one by one, wondering, 'Is she the last?" While on the one hand I was glad to have my question answered, on the other hand I was slightly disappointed that getting the answer was so easy; all I had to do was wait for it.

Audrey Tautou is just the cutest little thing ever. I also liked looking at Kevin Bishop (in a different way!) and his hair, even though I usually don't care for long hair on boys. I wouldn't mind watching him in another movie, although a quick glance at his page on imdb.com reveals that he hasn't been in much else that I'm interested in seeing--except for the aforementioned "prequel." How convenient!

It's funny that, when Xavier was reading a bedtime story to Lucas, the English subtitle read "And they lived happily ever after," while the actual French words said something like "and they had lots of babies"!

The movie has a funky little soundtrack, but nothing I'm rushing to buy from iTunes.

Here's something I was thinking about today. I've watched innumerable movies in English (of course), several in French, and at least two in Spanish; how prolific are movies in various other languages? Have I not watched movies in other languages because there aren't very many of them, or because they aren't very well-known, or because netflix doesn't have them, or because they don't tend to have the necessary English subtitles?

The Beat That My Heart Skipped

By now I just assume that a movie like this shows up on my netflix queue because the system suggested it to me after I watched other French movies. I have no recollection of picking it out, and no knowledge of what made it sound interesting to me.

At least, as it turns out, this one wasn't half bad. The first part reminded me of a Guy Ritchie movie, without the humor or the English. (What remains is that it's a movie about small-time European gangsters). Once Tom started playing the piano, though, Guy Ritchie went out the window. This made for an interesting (though, at first, perhaps not especially believable) juxtaposition of a French strong-arm mobster with a desire to be a concert pianist.

As with other French movies, I noticed the English subtitles were a little off from what was actually spoken in French (so "Don't touch me" becomes "Hands off," and "What did you say?" becomes "What did you talk about?") but the main reason I bring this up again is because of the French title of the movie, which is De battre mon coeur s'est arrêté. Now, as I've mentioned before, my French skills are minimal, but I do know that the verb arrêter means to stop, not to skip. I'm probably splitting hairs here, and I must admit that "The Beat that my Heart Skipped" does sound a little more interesting than "My Heart Has Stopped Beating."

I wondered why Tom was smiling triumphantly at the end of the movie. The only thing I can figure is that he feels he has finally put his past behind him and is ready to live completely in the present. He must assume that, because he spared the Russian's life, Minskov considers themselves even. But I don't think a man like Minskov would let a severe beating and ball-twisting go unpunished. If I were Tom, I wouldn't be smiling. I would be very afraid.

Pierrot Le Fou

I want to know why the heck I keep watching movies by Jean-Luc Godard. I've reached the "whatever came over me?" part of my netflix queue. At some point, for some unknown reason, I added a bunch of Godard's films to my list, and now I'm having to intersperse them with movies I understand, just to keep me sane.

Godard's movies make me feel like an idiot. They don't make sense to me. I feel like I spend the entire movie saying to myself, Why? Why? Why? Here's an example from this movie, said by the title character (whose name is actually Ferdinand) to Marianne, his lover and partner in crime: "It's a good thing I don't like spinach . . . because if I did, I'd eat it . . . and I can't stand the stuff. It's the same with you . . . only just the opposite." Mmmm . . . OK. The entire movie is this way!

Here's something interesting I noticed: about 45 minutes into the movie, right where the female voice-over says "Chapter Seven," there is a shot of the sand on a beach. After a moment, a leg pokes up out of it, then two, then two more, and you realize Marianne and Pierrot have buried themselves in the sand. This reminded me of a similar scene in Sex and Lucia, where you think you're just looking at sand, and then someone rises up out of it. (It's been a while since I've seen that one, so I don't remember who it was, or even if it was more than one person). By the way, Sex and Lucia is a much better movie than this one. It's not an entirely straightforward movie, and you have to think to be able to follow it, but at least it makes sense.

So, go watch Sex and Lucia instead of Pierrot Le Fou. Meanwhile, remind me never to paint my face blue and wrap my head in dynamite.

Breathless

Some movies I watch and immediately forget. Others are thought-provoking and I'm glad when there's someone interested in discussing them with me. Then there are those movies where I get to the end and I feel like I need someone to explain them to me. (This movie is that third kind, in case you were wondering). Sometimes it's because I'm sure I missed something, but I'm not sure what that something was. Sometimes it's because I don't understand a character's motives or intentions. Sometimes it's just because I'm so accustomed to slick plot-driven Hollywood flicks that I don't know what to do with something I'm guessing people watch in film school. If you ever needed proof that I am accustomed to movies as opposed to cinema, here it is. I mean, I don't even know what New Wave means (and to be honest, I'm just not interested enough to find out, either).

I must admit I can't find much to say about this movie. I am certainly not going to make up a bunch of crap about it in an attempt to sound like I know what I'm talking about. This movie really just seems to me like a 50s or 60s crime caper in the vein of Charade, How to Steal a Million, or To Catch a Thief--all fun movies which I have enjoyed, and all movies that I was sure I "got," if only because they were merely skin deep--except that, because of the way it is edited and because of stronger character development, this one is obviously more artsy fartsy. But someone else is going to have to explain to us the significance of all that.

On a more superficial note, I would like to comment on the French in this movie. First, Patricia's accent was atrocious. Yes, she was an American and French was her second language, and I suppose if her accent had been too perfect it might not have been believable, but I have to wonder if that's the best the actress could do, or was she actually trying to sound that bad? I'm convinced even I could have done a better job. Second, I'm so proud about how much of the French I could understand on my own (ok, so maybe it was only about 17%, but still). I had thought that j'ai oublié toutes de la langue, and it's not like I could get by without English, but I'm glad that I remember more than I'd thought. And third, once again I found I know just enough French to be annoyed by the subtitles, which either left out entire sentences (though never very important ones, that I noticed) or translated in a slightly different way than I would have.

So that's my superficial American opinion of this apparently classic example of cinema.