Wild Grass (2009) ***1/2

French directors of a certain age like Resnais, Godard and the recently deceased Rohmer and Chabrol, have managed to remain creative and vital in a very tough business. While Wild Grass certainly has its weaknesses, it’s also a haunting and compelling piece of cinema.

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Wild Grass (2009) ***1/2

French directors of a certain age like Resnais, Godard and the recently deceased Rohmer and Chabrol, have managed to remain creative and vital in a very tough business. While Wild Grass certainly has its weaknesses, it’s also a haunting and compelling piece of cinema.

Click Here to Read the Complete Review

The Other Side of Sunday (1996) ***

It’s summertime in Norway, and a pert, innocent young bundle of raging hormones named Maria (Marie Thiessen) is wandering the countryside trying to make sense of her new interests and impulses. Set in the early 1900s in one of those stuffy, straight-laced Scandinavian farming villages that depressed Ingmar Bergman to no end, Maria spends the bulk of her sunny days trying to find some morally acceptable outlet for her new, confusing sexual energy.

The Other Side of Sunday was nominated for an Academy Award in 1997, and while not a great work, it does have a strangely engaging drive to it. Surprisingly, many of the early scenes have the look and feel of bad 70s porn; missing only the distant wailing of a wa-wa pedal to complete the effect. On one of her daily rambles in the woods, Maria discovers stogy Mrs. Tunheim, one of the pillars of the community, stark naked and wading into a stream for a bit of skinny dipping. Maria hides in the bushes and secretly watches the aquatic frolic - the first display of sensuality she has ever witnessed – and thoughts of mysterious pleasures fill her mind and she can’t escape them.

Maria’s dad (Bjorn Sundquist), the stern and emotionally distant town minister, is totally out of his depth when it comes to understanding his daughter’s distress, and she turns to bible reading in hopes of finding solace. But comically, Maria discovers the ancient texts brimming with passion and thinly veiled sexuality. She then begins to see prim Mrs. Tunheim as a role model and kindred spirit. But furtive nude bathing is not the only secret this matronly woman is hiding, and Maria is in for some hard lessons about faith, trust and truthfulness.

Stories about young girls coming of age are a staple of European cinema – like movies with lots of explosions are to Americans – and this type of film has been done many times before. But, while not a shining example of the genre, The Other Side of Sunday manages to establish a rumbling sort of momentum that’s appealing. We find ourselves coolly but pleasingly immersed, just like Maria when she shyly attempts her own naked commune with nature.

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The Other Side of Sunday (1996) ***

It’s summertime in Norway, and a pert, innocent young bundle of raging hormones named Maria (Marie Thiessen) is wandering the countryside trying to make sense of her new interests and impulses. Set in the early 1900s in one of those stuffy, straight-laced Scandinavian farming villages that depressed Ingmar Bergman to no end, Maria spends the bulk of her sunny days trying to find some morally acceptable outlet for her new, confusing sexual energy.

The Other Side of Sunday was nominated for an Academy Award in 1997, and while not a great work, it does have a strangely engaging drive to it. Surprisingly, many of the early scenes have the look and feel of bad 70s porn; missing only the distant wailing of a wa-wa pedal to complete the effect. On one of her daily rambles in the woods, Maria discovers stogy Mrs. Tunheim, one of the pillars of the community, stark naked and wading into a stream for a bit of skinny dipping. Maria hides in the bushes and secretly watches the aquatic frolic - the first display of sensuality she has ever witnessed – and thoughts of mysterious pleasures fill her mind and she can’t escape them.

Maria’s dad (Bjorn Sundquist), the stern and emotionally distant town minister, is totally out of his depth when it comes to understanding his daughter’s distress, and she turns to bible reading in hopes of finding solace. But comically, Maria discovers the ancient texts brimming with passion and thinly veiled sexuality. She then begins to see prim Mrs. Tunheim as a role model and kindred spirit. But furtive nude bathing is not the only secret this matronly woman is hiding, and Maria is in for some hard lessons about faith, trust and truthfulness.

Stories about young girls coming of age are a staple of European cinema – like movies with lots of explosions are to Americans – and this type of film has been done many times before. But, while not a shining example of the genre, The Other Side of Sunday manages to establish a rumbling sort of momentum that’s appealing. We find ourselves coolly but pleasingly immersed, just like Maria when she shyly attempts her own naked commune with nature.

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Frontier of Dawn (2008) ***1/2

It’s fair to say that Philippe Garrel has small, moody films about soured romantic obsession down pat. Throughout his long career he’s made quite a few of them, and while we can’t claim to have exhaustive knowledge of his oeuvre, the ones we’ve seen we generally like. This one begins in typical Garrel fashion, with a shot of a slightly confused looking young man named François (the director’s son Louis – filmmaking is always a family affair for the Garrel clan) wandering down a deserted Paris street, camera gear and tripod in tow. He is clearly searching for an address, and soon enters a fashionable baroque apartment building - a building inhabited by a woman who will change his life forever.

Garrel’s been dispatched to take a portrait of Carole (Laura Smet), a pretty young actress on the verge of stardom. There is palpable heat between photographer and subject, and before long their relationship advances far beyond professional. The elder Garrel takes his sweet time in developing this romance – which is far from low maintenance- and at first it appears the director is squandering narrative resources on a pointless relationship that will obviously end badly. But the veteran filmmaker is patiently establishing crucial backstory elements that must not be rushed. All will be revealed in the later reels.

Carole displays troubling behaviors that keep both François and the viewer off balance, and constantly questioning the wisdom of this romance. Garrel has presented this self destructive female character before, most notably the dreamy drug-addict played by Johanna ter Steege in I Can No Longer Hear the Guitar, but Carole’s issues run much deeper. However, the infatuation of François is so intense he can’t resist her. When he finally and painfully decides to end the relationship, tragedy ensues and François finds that his troubles with Carole are just beginning.

Again, as in Guitar, we flash forward a year and François is attempting to build a new life with the calm, level-headed Eve (Clementine Poidatz). While his bohemian friends congratulate him for finding “bonheur bourgeois”, François is haunted by vivid memories of the sensual Carole. First in his dreams and then, in a starkly supernatural turn, she begins to invade his physical world as well.

This film doesn’t rank with the best of Garrel, but features many of the stylistic ingredients that distinguish his work. The overriding tone of melancholy, the sudden, at times jarring, background music – in this film it’s a sort of Charles Ives meets Eric Satie – and of course those elegantly simple compositions that make Garrel’s films such a pleasure to watch. Garrel always keeps the nuts and bolts of production subtle, and never pounds us with jiggly handheld cameras or overly arty staging. Frontier of Dawn is Garrel’s attempt at a romantic ghost story, and while other directors have done this type of thing with more emotional immediacy, no one has ever done it quite like Louis Garrel. And his fans will know exactly what we mean.


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Frontier of Dawn (2008) ***1/2

It’s fair to say that Philippe Garrel has small, moody films about soured romantic obsession down pat. Throughout his long career he’s made quite a few of them, and while we can’t claim to have exhaustive knowledge of his oeuvre, the ones we’ve seen we generally like. This one begins in typical Garrel fashion, with a shot of a slightly confused looking young man named François (the director’s son Louis – filmmaking is always a family affair for the Garrel clan) wandering down a deserted Paris street, camera gear and tripod in tow. He is clearly searching for an address, and soon enters a fashionable baroque apartment building - a building inhabited by a woman who will change his life forever.

Garrel’s been dispatched to take a portrait of Carole (Laura Smet), a pretty young actress on the verge of stardom. There is palpable heat between photographer and subject, and before long their relationship advances far beyond professional. The elder Garrel takes his sweet time in developing this romance – which is far from low maintenance- and at first it appears the director is squandering narrative resources on a pointless relationship that will obviously end badly. But the veteran filmmaker is patiently establishing crucial backstory elements that must not be rushed. All will be revealed in the later reels.

Carole displays troubling behaviors that keep both François and the viewer off balance, and constantly questioning the wisdom of this romance. Garrel has presented this self destructive female character before, most notably the dreamy drug-addict played by Johanna ter Steege in I Can No Longer Hear the Guitar, but Carole’s issues run much deeper. However, the infatuation of François is so intense he can’t resist her. When he finally and painfully decides to end the relationship, tragedy ensues and François finds that his troubles with Carole are just beginning.

Again, as in Guitar, we flash forward a year and François is attempting to build a new life with the calm, level-headed Eve (Clementine Poidatz). While his bohemian friends congratulate him for finding “bonheur bourgeois”, François is haunted by vivid memories of the sensual Carole. First in his dreams and then, in a starkly supernatural turn, she begins to invade his physical world as well.

This film doesn’t rank with the best of Garrel, but features many of the stylistic ingredients that distinguish his work. The overriding tone of melancholy, the sudden, at times jarring, background music – in this film it’s a sort of Charles Ives meets Eric Satie – and of course those elegantly simple compositions that make Garrel’s films such a pleasure to watch. Garrel always keeps the nuts and bolts of production subtle, and never pounds us with jiggly handheld cameras or overly arty staging. Frontier of Dawn is Garrel’s attempt at a romantic ghost story, and while other directors have done this type of thing with more emotional immediacy, no one has ever done it quite like Louis Garrel. And his fans will know exactly what we mean.


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Rolling Family (2004) ****

This rough-hewn Argentinean import is a slaphappy hybrid of Little Miss Sunshine and The Wages of Fear. Delightfully goofy from start to finish, the film chronicles an ill advised road trip of 1200 misadventure-filled kilometers from Buenos Aires to the remote hinterlands of Misiones. Family matriarch Emilia (Graciana Chironi), an 83 year-old drama queen, has received an invitation to a family wedding where she is to be maid of honor. Wishing to see her birthplace one more time, she summons her daughters and in-laws and grandchildren, who all enthusiastically agree to accompany her.

This loving, close-knit family is not only prone to hysterics; they are also appallingly cheap. Son-in-law Matias (Nicholas Lopez) just happens to have a home made camper, built on a 1958 Chevy pick-up truck, and before long a dozen energetic members of Emilia’s extended family cram into the rusting heap until every sloppy weld and hastily applied rivet threatens to rupture. Amid a toxic cloud of exhaust fumes, the sagging contraption sets out on the highway, where a strange and wacky world of exotic scenery, family bickering and dreadful humidity await it.

The idea of seeing Argentina from a Chevrolet soon begins to lose its luster, as old Emilia intersperses her periods of aggressive bossiness with fits of self pity and occasional imaginary heart attacks. As the driver, Matias labors to maintain the illusion that he is in charge of the situation, but the rivers of sweat cascading down his paunchy belly tell us otherwise. Meanwhile back in the camper, all manner of maladies beset the brood, including toothaches, squalling babies, lost puppies and pubescent cousins discovering the secret joys of sexual exploration. And other issues arise, including the expected ones from taking an overburdened, 50 year-old vehicle on a long trip into the steamy jungle.

Shot documentary style, the film appears to have been loosely scripted with plenty of room for improvisation. Director Pablo Trapero scores big with this approach. He captures the family’s complex emotional layers and makes them feel like genuine products from decades of shared history. It doesn’t hurt that he had the courage to cast family members and other non-professionals in key roles, and the risk paid off. The production’s lack of polish infuses every scene with a slight off-kilter dynamic that somehow manages to be both deeply familiar and strangely intriguing.

Those of us who have taken the occasional family road trip from hell will know all too well the daffy plight of Rolling Family, and revel in its unique silliness. And while we wouldn’t want to take part in such a cockeyed journey, we have to admire this family’s resilience and determination to not be undone by their self-inflicted fallacies and foibles.

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