Klapisch's belle du jour
Cédric
Klapisch has made his niche in French cinema with engaging, small-scale,
witty films like When the Cat's Away and The Spanish
Apartment. His films to date have been, without exception,
eminently likeable, so I was excited to see his new film Paris.
And while there are elements of his previous work here, I fear
Klapisch may have bitten off more than he can chew this time.
It may come as no great surprise to learn that Klapisch
is a fan of (and indeed, wrote a masters' thesis on) Woody Allen.
This film is transparently Klapisch's attempt to do for France's
capital what Allen did for New York in Manhattan. But
where Allen wisely restricted his principal cast to around 5 characters,
Klapisch asks us to follow around a cast of some 25 named characters;
and at least seven significant storylines. In the end, it all
proves a bit much, and Paris becomes a bit like a soufflé
that refuses to rise.
The central force holding the film together comes
in the form of Pierre (Romain Duris). He's a one-time professional
dancer whose career has been curtailed by news that he has a serious
– and possibly fatal – heart condition. Restricted
to his apartment, Pierre starts taking an interest in the lives
of people who pass by his balcony. To help him out, his caring
sister Élise (Juliette Binoche) moves in with her kids.
Élise soon finds herself attracted to Jean (Albert Dupontel),
a greengrocer at the local market. He however is having a rough
time of it with his ex-wife Caroline (Julie Ferrier) working at
the same market. Despite his condition, Pierre finds himself attracted
– albeit rather Rear Window style – to the stunning
student Laetitia (Mélanie Laurent) who lives across the
street. She is the object of affection for many, including her
much-older history professor, Roland (Fabrice Luchini). Roland
has just started a job as a TV presenter, hosting a show on Paris's
history; but is finding it difficult following the recent death
of his father. That however doesn't stop him squabbling with his
architect brother Philippe (François Cluzet).
Amidst all of this Klapisch also throws in a liberal
dash of social commentary including a young African man's struggle
to get to France; a racist bakery owner; the plight of social
workers in France and the stark divide between rich and poor in
Paris. And while his intentions in doing all of this are no doubt
admirable, it makes things so difficult to follow that I lost
interest in several of the characters after a while.
As
with any film with so many disparate elements, some work better
than others. The relationship between Laetitia and Roland is deftly
handled, but that between the two brothers less so. There's a
wonderful scene involving a party at Pierre's apartment; but a
scene involving an early morning visit to Paris's main food market
falls flat.
As a travelogue, Paris ticks off most of
the high points of the city (the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral
etc); but Klapisch's intention clearly isn't to provide a postcard
view of the city. While he uses those landmarks as a visual aid,
he's far more interested in the “ordinary” Paris –
the place where people live, work and study. He's trying to make
the city another character in the film, and for the most part,
that works well. It's on the human side that things come apart
a little.
Frequent Klapisch collaborator Romain Duris is once
more excellent as Pierre, although the role probably could have
used some beefing up. Juliette Binoche plays against her glamorous
public image as the rather frumpy Élise. Fabrice Luchini
provides some of the film's lighter moments as the conflicted
Roland; but François Cluzet is quite muted as his brother.
Mélanie Laurent acquits herself well as the attractive-and-she-knows-it
Laetitia; while stalwart of the French cinema Karin Viard has
some great moments as the bigoted baker.
Paris is a classic case of an overly ambitious
project coming unstuck. That's not to say there aren't pleasures
to be had here; but as a whole, it fails to live up to its promise.
Klapisch would probably have been better advised to follow his
own previous pattern (and that of his idol, Woody Allen) and scaled
things down a bit. This is one film in which more has unfortunately
ended up being less.
David Edwards
