Nicole Stéphane, Another Woman Michael Loves!

Ms Stéphane was actually a Baroness and a member of the Rothschild banking family.  Her acting CV is not very long, and in one of her finest performances, Le silence de la mer, she does not even say a word.  After a car accident, she retired from acting, and concentrated on writing and theatre and film production.

Nicole Stéphane in Les Enfants terribles

She is best known for Silence, like I mentioned, and her imperious mischievous incestuous truly regal turn in the excellent Jean-Pierre Melville film, Les Enfants terribles.

Stéphane in Le silence de la mer

But what you might not know about her, is that she joined the French Army during WWII, and was captured in the Pyrenées by the Spanish whilst trying to hook up and coordinate with the Free France underground.  

Another awesome fact about Ms Stéphane is that she lived above Susan Sontag in Paris in the early Seventies.  They were lovers for a spell and were off and on artistic collaborators until Nicole's death in 2007.  

Truly, a Woman Michael Loves!

Mwah, ... 

After our lovely dinner

Date last night, the Wife had a few rules about what we would be allowed to watch at home:  No reading (subtitles); no stories about young people in love; no coming of age stories; although black and white could be acceptable it was not preferred; and more than anything, she expressed a desire to see a documentary about political scandal and corruption, especially if it involved sex. Something like Client 9.

The Wife even suggested we just find Client 9 on the apple teevee, and see what suggestions they had for us based on that choice.  After a fair amount of circumnavigating I came across Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr Hunter S Thompson.  I had seen it before, the Wife had not.  She was reluctant but prob too sleepy to put up much of a fight.

Gonzo was just as good as I had remembered it to be.  My fave parts are Hunter's coverage of The Hell's Angels, the Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas bit, and his unsurpassed, groundbreaking coverage of the 1972 General Election (Renee said, "Gosh, McGovern seemed like such a nice great guy." Yup.)

But, the best part is the retelling of Hunter's Rolling Stone article about Jimmy Carter's tour de force Law Day speech in 1974, wherein Carter quoted Bob Dylan's song Maggie's Farm, and told all those rich privileged Southern lawyers and judges how bad they should feel for not getting behind someone like Martin Luther King Jr back when he was still alive.

Here is the speech in full:

Anyhoo, sure enough the Wife fell asleep, and I finished the film, completely forgetting that Alex Gibney directed it.  (And, that Graydon Carter was one of the producers!)

Alex Gibney has got to be the best political documentary filmmaker alive right now.  Look at this credit list:  We Steal Secrets; Mea Maxima Culpa; Catching Hell; Client 9; the abortion segment of Freakonomics; Casino Jack; Taxi to the Dark Side; and Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room. All of those have been made in just the last eight years.  Stunning.  And, a quick look on his imdb CV indicates that he has a doc about Fela Kuti coming out next.  (I have just discovered Fela recently, and will be v eager to see it.)

Keep up the good work, Mr Gibney.  And, all of those films, plus Gonzo come v highly recommended by me, espec Enron, Casino Jack, Catching Hell, and Client 9.  

Mwah, ...

Work week over.  Woo-hoo!

P.S.  I started watching Melville's Le Cercle Rouge after Gonzo.  Meaning the Wife woke up to a v long French early 70s thriller with subtitles.  I told her before we crawled in to bed, "Are you sure you can not stay out here a little bit longer? There are only two more hours left with the film."

Touchez pas au grisbi is not

A masterpiece, or anything.  It is not even as good as Bob le Flambeur, or any of the other Jean-Pierre Melville gangster/heist flicks of roughly the same period.

"Lino, wait until you see me do the Mermaid Dance."

But it sure makes for a smashing great time.

The cast list, for starters, is immensely impressive:  Jean Gabin is our star, playing a master thief, trying to complete his last (natch) job, surrounded by duplicitous dames, a jealous love-struck partner, and a whole host of incompetent bit players; an extremely hot and handsome young Lino Ventura plays our villain; Jeanne Moreau plays the very naughty nightclub dancer, Josy, who will turn a trick occasionally if necessary, and uses the powder room for a different type of powder; while Daniel Cauchy -- who starred in Bob le flambeur a few years later -- plays a young cheap hood.

Plus, the film practically seethes with smoking hot French and Italian actresses.  Notably Dora Doll, Marilyn Bufferd, Lucilla Solivani, and Delia Scalia.  Scalia is the one that stands out to me. Her impeccable French and kittenish voice, along with the absolute knock-out outfit and shoes she wears in her scene with Gabin are sexy as all get out.  Their kiss and sexy banter practically fog up the windows.

But, there is nothing original about this story.  It was based on a pulpy French novel that was probably meant to be provocative about the seamy underworld of Paris.  The film can really be summed up by the question -- and my buddy, Nick C, would appreciate this -- "Who is running this program, anyway?"

Gabin, our hero, just needs to sell the gold ingots so he can retire, but nearly every single person in a position to help him is either weak, stupid, uncooperative, or double crossing him.  There is one scene in which he has to get the scoop about his kidnapped partner, and Gabin literally slaps every other person in the room numerous times.  That scene now, fifty years later, plays like a Camp Treat.  And, that is one of the reasons why Touchez pas is more a compelling entertainment than a rich witty insightful motion picture like Bob le Flambeur or Le Doulos or Le Deuxieme Souffle.

The director of Touchez pas was Jacques Becker, and he was a protege of the great Jean Renoir, working on a number of his pictures.  But Becker, here, seems content to deal with the surface elements of this film.  Plus, Becker has none of the style or wit to add a dash of irony or theatricality that makes Melville's films so special and rewarding.  Becker appears satisfied with creating a sexy gritty hit, and that is nothing to be ashamed of.  Like I said, it is great fun.  And comes very highly recommended by me, Touchez pas au grisby.

But, if you do enjoy it, and you have not seen any of Melville's films, seek those out, too, because they are even better.








All my love,
Ardent

All the Reasons Bob le Flambeur is one of the greatest motion pictures ever.

First, as much as I love David Thomson, pay no attention to his argument that the ending is weak. He is wrong.  Totally, unbelievably wrong.  It is a blind spot, or some weird idiosyncratic thing because the end of Bob le Flambeur is one of the greatest ends to a film in cinema history, full stop.

Here are many other reasons Bob le Flambeur is so good:

1) Isabelle Corey, need I say more?
2) The amazing sets Melville had built in his own personal studio in Paris.  It is v obvious that certain sets of nightclubs and bars are right next to each other, back to back in this film.  The gold leaf, fleur-de-lis "movable Hitchcock" walls are movie gold for me.  They tell us, We are watching a film.  This is not real life.  A mystery.  A dream.  In the best sort of way.
3) The stunning jazz soundtrack which is fifty years ahead of its time, in that in drifts in and out, and changes, not from scene to scene, but whenever it is appropriate to tell the story.
4) That everyone in Paris calls our protagonist, "Bob."
5) All the amazing shots of Montmartre in the fifties.
6) The "pop" of Champagne dialogue our male ingenue uses to seduce Isabelle Corey.
7) That Bob le Flambeur sets up all the other great "Last Heist" motion pictures.
8) That just a tiny second of nudity (Ms Corey's breasts) was nearly worth the twenty years we had suffered since the Code.
9) That fun could be had at the cinema again.
10) That I love that the nouvelle vague kids that had loved Melville before (Truffaut, Godard, Chabrol) all eventually ended up despising him because his films were box-office smashes, while theirs suffered at the gate.  TOUGH!

"It's on random."

Sweetie made us these wonderful pot pies Sunday.  Yum!

Some quick random thoughts: 

Man, I thought it was going to be much nastier this week down in South Carolina.  The GOP Clown Car loses the only member who could be called even remotely sane (Huntsman) and now he is plugging Mittens.  The GOP always picks the same old, boring white dudes, don't they? Good grief, unless Santorum and/or Newt drop an absolute bombshell this week, this thing is over.  ...  Saw Little Voice for the first time, and I liked it but it def was not what I expected it to be. I thought it was going to be a light comedy.  It is not.    Brenda Blethyn was great, Caine and Broadbent not so much, and Ewen McGregor's talents were completely wasted.  The impeccable Jane Horrocks was perfect, as always.  (That is Bubble to you AbFab groupies.)  And is it not great to get three more AbFabs recently? AbFab is still just as good as ever, maybe better. ...  Also saw Les Bonnes Femmes last night.  It had been a couple of years.  Gosh, it is gooood, creepy, sexy, fun, and so fantastic looking.  I think I need to own it, put it with my modest New Wave section of dvds, next to Bob Le Flambeur, Army of Shadows, Diabolique, and Claire's Knee.  I might watch Pauline at the Beach tonight on NetFlix.  Rohmer was forever my fave New Wave director, but now I think  I like Melville better.  ... Downtown Abbey is great, natch, but it kind of sneaks up on you, doesn't it? At first you are looking at it like it yet another Britsh Masterpiece thing-y, and then a few weeks later when it is over, you are upset, wanting more episodes.  I love the vicious little Edith.  Good addicting stuff. 



French ennui

 That is all. 

Kisses,

AH

Despite a v embarrassing and awful

Montage sequence that inexplicably included what sounds like an emo American indie song (plop in the middle of a French film), Le Noms des Gens (The Names of Love [US title]), is one of the best comedies I have seen in years.

Right from the beginning, with actor, Jacques Gamblin, lamenting his plight of having the most common name in France, Arthur Martin, comparing his situation to that of the North Korean football team in the most recent World Cup (nine of their starting eleven had the surname, Kim), I knew this was going to be my kind of movie.

"Look at my GIANT, gaudy trophy. And my Cuh-razy pumps."

Of course, just the premise of the film is right in my wheelhouse:  Gamblin (Martin) is "seduced" and falls for a French/Algerian beauty, Sara Forestier (her character's name is Baya), who sleeps with Right-Wingers in order to convert them to the Left and cure them of their fascisme.  Gamblin is not a Right-Winger, he always votes for the Socialist, Jospin, who always finishes a v distant third in every general election (the bulk of the film of the film is set in the late 1980s) but Forestier "likes" him, probably due to the fact that, like her, there are "taboos", secrets in his family's past.

Both families, and those dreaded "taboos", are used to hilarious effect throughout the film.  Gamblin's parents, in particular, who are obsessed with all the "superior" technologies that ultimately flop, i.e. Betamax and the first giant laserdiscs that came out.

The film, co-written and directed by Michel Leclerc, is obviously influenced by Woody Allen's work, especially Annie Hall, even including some crustacean scenes.  It is a delight to watch, very sexy, and extremely funny.  And also, like a lot of really good comedies, it has a crucial, serious center, regarding immigration, religion, and the "secrets and lies" that all families share.

************

A couple of years ago I was channel hopping late at night and happened upon a famous, modern French film star (I do not remember his name) on Charlie Rose's awful program.  The actor was bitching about the "new French cinema" and how it was just like Hollywood now, homogenized, and "safe".  "Where are all the Godards and Truffauts and Melvilles and Rohmers these days," he seemed to be suggesting.  And, yes, I know that Godard is still alive and just came out with a new film (which I am still hoping I get a chance to see soon).  But back then, I really had no idea what he was talking about.  I was not watching a lot of French cinema then.  Now that I am watching a good deal more French films these days, I see exactly what he was talking about.  As much as I love Le Nom des Gens or Love Crime or Carlos or Potiche, it is plain, that unlike the Cahiers du Cinema gang, who took the ideas of Hitchcock, Ford, Welles, and others to new and stratospheric heights, that the contemporary French cinema is tending to "copy" Hollywood style and directors, as opposed to using that style and those directors as inspiration.  Except, now, that I think about it, I might take Carlos (and Assayas) off that list because Assayas tackled the extremely difficult subject of terrorism in a moving, yet still, entertaining way.  Carlos' story cannot help but be entertaining and edge-of-you-seat viewing.  There is no way a film as good, like Carlos, could be made in Hollywood, no way.

Having said all that, I must admit that I am sure there are French auteurs today that I am not seeing here in the States, and that my access is limited.  It could v well be the case that I am merely getting access to the most US-friendly, Hollywood-ized French films there are.  I am hoping that is the case, and that I will eventually find all those "grimy/arty" films in the future.

And where are all the Jean-Pierre Melvilles these days? Although the style (espec the lighting) and music would have been decidedly different, Carlos, would be a topic that Melville would have relished.  (And he'd prob have done it in a hundred minutes, to boot.)

Mwah, ... 

I am at home.

This post is dedicated to Allison Wait, who turned me on to The Waitresses back in the '80s.

Time to forget all aboot work, inventory, spineless Dems, et al.

Yesterday was a treat (after work, that is, natch.)  My Sweetie, Renee, was v sweet indeed, she heated up the Champagne risotto, got me an iced tea (w/ lots of cubes), and let me watch some French films on Sundance, b/c, Tuesday, apparently is French film night, I guess, on the Sundance channel.  Neither of the films were world-beaters by any stretch of the imagination.  (No Jean-Pierre Melville here!) But it was just the ticket after a long terrible day at work.  (btw, we drank Hitching Post Cork Dancer 7.1 Pinot Noir.  Renee loooved it [gosh, she loves Pinot], I thought the same thing I almost always think about CA Pinot:  No thanks, no fruit, too hot [14.3! eek!], too much oak, etc, ... )

Before I get to the French films, though, today I want to talk about The Waitresses.

The Waitresses, with only two albums of a canon, so to speak, packed so much greatness in to those two albums it boggles the mind.  They had their 'hit', of course, a v v modest 'hit', I Know What Boys Like, which is one of the sexiest female empowering songs I've ever heard.  If you do not believe me, check out some of the comments on You Tube 'neath the video.  (I know, I know, but still.) Attention!:  I am now quoting Molly Ivins, quoting Margaret Atwood, who did her own small, unscientific survey, asking women what they most feared about men (rape) and men what they most feared about women:  Women laughing at them.  Ouch.  That song and video still provokes men, I believe.  The idea of a woman, in charge of the sexual politics of a situation for once, childishly taunting the man must infuriate the insensitive, insecure brutes amongst us.  The song, lyrics included (although I have to believe Ms Donahue had at least a modicum of input), like all of the Waitresses songs were written by a man, Chris Butler.  


Yet, so many, if not all of the Waitresses' songs were feminist-leaning.  I suspect Butler had an axe to grind and/or he was in love w/ his lead singer, Ms Donahue.  


Time and again he writes through her perspective and persona and somehow nails it every time.  Take No Guilt, par example.  No Guilt is the greatest break-up song written in history.  It resides in the Break-Up Hall of Fame for me, its' plaque right next to Elvis Costello's album, This Year's Model.  In fact, This Year's Model, the song and the whole album are the male side of the same coin.  


No Guilt is a brilliantly designed song, enacting Ms Donahue's response over the phone to a (prob) moping ex-beau.  What the song is is a litany of every single way Donahue has moved on w/ her life, and all the fab ways she has grown up since the split.  "I'm sorry," she says, "I'm not suicidal."  In the meantime, she has learned how to cope w/ mundane things he always used to handle, is driving now, fixing shit around her apartment, and has got the go-ahead & wherewithal (both from her folks- prob v relieved to see that asshole gone & their baby grown-up) to go to grad school!

But, there is more.  Check out some of these lines from other songs:  "Get tough/Don't be so patient/Get smart/Head up, shoulders straight/Since when is it a disaster?/If the "S" on your cape/Is a little frayed."; "What's a girl to do?/Born to shop?/No!/Pretty victories/What's a girl to do?/Scream and screw?/No!/Pretty victories"; "Don't work your buns off/For a fool for a fool/Who can barely tie his shoes"; "Don't answer-a phone call/That old boyfriend old boyfriend/Who'd love to see you lose/You don't need that!" (Wise Up); "I guess I set impossible goals/And I don't know when to quit" (Jimmy Tomorrow).  The last quote is much like the famous Situationist slogan.


Believe me, I understand that part of the feminist nature of this group comes from the tough, sexy feminist front woman, Patty Donahue, no matter who wrote the songs.  & I understand that most folks' knowledge of the group is through their only 'MTV video', I Know What Boys Like, & Ms Donahue plays so much (albeit, I think spot-on) to the sexpot stereotype that some dudes miss the joke entirely.  A joke in which they are the punch line.  Their contemporaries, Blondie, however, as much fun & as talented as they were,  nearly always seemed to exploit Ms Harry's sexuality instead of empowering it.  


I think Patty Donahue was Chris Butler's unrequited love. & oddly, he was in a real position to show her off as the amazing, empowered sexy female that he knew he couldn't have, on a big stage, for all to see.  That he did it w/ such intelligence, sensitivity, sexiness, & style is more to his credit.  


Here is a fun thing re The Waitresses & another of their most popular songs, Christmas Wrapping, which, if you work in retail, you are v v familiar w/, I'm sure.  One of the best Xmas songs, ever.

I'll talk aboot the French films tomorrow before inventory.



P.S.  Renee loves to listen to the Waitresses in the car when she's depressed or pissed.  They pump a lil' feminist up, y'see?