Pierre Rissient: Man of
Cinema, Flight of the Red Balloon, The Counterfeiters
By the time a
given film festival begins to come to an end, the critics
covering it are bound to tire of watching movies. To spend
one day attending three or four screenings every once in a
while is very typical of our schedules, but to
unrelentingly tackle this task for weeks on end can become
rather daunting. By my sixth day at AFI Fest 2007, fatigue
set in. (I can only imagine what other critics were
feeling, given that I had skipped out on four days of the
middle-portion of the festival and they hadn’t.) In order
for me to be impressed by a movie at this point, it had to
be really, really good. Whether I would have enjoyed Todd
McCarthy’s Pierre Rissient: Man of Cinema, Hou
Hsiao-hsien’s Flight of the Red Balloon, or Stefan
Ruzowitzsky’s The Counterfeiters more in a less
“movied-out” state of mind, I’m not sure. Still, I was
able to find an ample amount of enjoyment in all three of
them, even if I did come out of the Hou picture with mixed
feelings.
The thought of
Hou (whose new film I will discuss later) brings me to
McCarthy’s documentary, Pierre Rissient: Man of Cinema,
which I saw earlier in Day Six. This is because its
title-subject, Pierre Rissient, is the film-buff and
marketing-genius responsible for bringing Hou’s work into
the Mainstream. He has done the same thing for countless
other actors, writers, directors, and films, establishing
himself as one of the most important figures in the world
of Cinema despite maintaining a relatively unknown status.
Even I didn’t know who he was until I saw
McCarthy’s film—although I had certainly been unknowingly
affected by his work—and I have a pretty impressive
knowledge of the field.
McCarthy begins
Pierre Rissient: Man of Cinema by asking a simple
question of several respected filmmakers and
film-journalists: “Who is Pierre Rissient”? None of them
can really come up with a concrete response, despite the
fact that they all seem to recognize Rissient as a
powerful force in the film industry. Many refer to him as
“the guy who wears a t-shirt on the red carpet at Cannes.”
Others merely react to the question with bewilderment,
sarcastically treating Rissient’s name as if it is the
stamp of some sort of sacred, metaphysical cinematic
brand.
After watching
McCarthy’s documentary, I’m not so sure I know exactly
what Rissient does in the film-world, but I think that’s
sort of the point. To narrow his profound, multifaceted
impact on the accessibility of pictures that have defined
the lives of seasoned film-lovers and casual moviegoers
alike would undermine his importance. What the viewer does
learn about Rissient within the course of the movie is
undoubtedly broad, but it is also highly informative. To
name a few of Rissient’s most notable accomplishments: he
was responsible for booking American movies in Paris,
which led to the popularity of mainstream film noir and
the French New Wave in France; he brought the works of
Chen Kaige, Zhang Yimou, Jane Champion, and the
aforementioned Hou, among others, to the Cannes Film
Festival; and he promoted Clint Eastwood’s success in both
Europe and America, creating one of the most iconic stars
of the Twentieth Century. And, according to Roger Ebert, a
long-time friend of his, Rissient is the “only person in
the world who can walk into any screening at Cannes at
will.”
Will anyone but
critics and diehard film-enthusiasts have any reason to
see Pierre Rissient: Man of Cinema if and when it
is released theatrically? Not at all. Most of the
documentary’s entertainment-value is derived from the
enthusiasm that the viewer has for the films that Rissient
has been responsible for championing. (This is also what
allows them to appreciate his influence in the film
industry.) McCarthy refers to his movie as a product of
“serious cinephilia,” which is an accurate description.
Some of the material focusing on Rissient’s somewhat
eccentric personality is fascinating on a human-level, but
it comes only in sparse doses. Pierre Rissient: Man of
Cinema may only work for a select group of people, but
members of this group (which I happen to belong to) will
find the film to be a loving biography of its subject and
an invigorating depiction of his notable knowledge of and
passion for Cinema as an art-form.
Now back to Hou
Hsiao-hsien’s new picture, which, to my knowledge, has not
been promoted by Rissient, perhaps due to its ultimate
worthlessness. By making that statement, I don’t mean to
imply that Flight of the Red Balloon is a bad
film—one could certainly fare far worse at this year’s AFI
Fest—just that it is lacking in extraordinary qualities.
If asked to describe the movie in a single word, I would
call it “pleasant,” which might seem ironic given the fact
that it is about strained familial relationships.
Strangely, however, the adjective fits: with Flight of
the Red Balloon, Hou has crafted a delicate little
slice-of-life.
The main problem
with the picture may be that it offers too plain a
vision of everyday life. The only dressing accompanying
Hou’s depiction of the central characters is the presence
of a whimsical red balloon that follows them (a nod to one
of the writer/director’s favorite films, 1956’s
thirty-four-minute The Red Balloon). Any symbolism
found in the picture—many critics have commented on that
which concerns a supporting character’s video-camera—fails
to form a cohesive, satisfying message. What is left, as I
said, is a film that is just pleasant.
In the lead role,
Juliette Binoche sports a rugged blonde dye-job as
Suzanne, the stressed-out but sincere and sympathetic
mother of a young boy named Simon (Simon Iteanu). Suzanne
works hard as a voice-artist for a Paris puppet-theatre
and, because Simon’s father lives abroad, she is forced to
hire Chinese-born nanny and film-school student, Song
(Song Fang), to take care of him during the day. Song and
Simon spend most of their time together at a local bakery,
where he plays pinball; in a nearby park, where they
aimlessly walk and talk; and at home, where Simon takes
regular piano lessons. Daytime is usually the least
stressful part of the boy’s day because it means he
doesn’t have to deal with his mother’s often frantic
personality. Suzanne is constantly strained due to being
overworked and being abused by her downstairs tenant’s
careless attitude toward her.
All of the main
characters in the film are affable, and the viewer comes
to sympathize with them very easily. Their emotional
plights come across as being both authentic and genuine,
primarily because the cast provides them a distinctly
likable aura. (Binoche is particularly stunning in her
role, immersing herself in a type of character that she
rarely tackles as an actress.) All the while,
cinematographer Pin Bing Lee’s luscious command of Hou’s
sweeping imagery retains a beauty that has the transfixing
ability to saturate the audience in a soothing atmosphere,
a remarkable feat given the film’s less-than-fluffy
content.
But, again, I
digress. There is no reason for the viewer to care
about any of these people in any greater sense than the
one presented by the plot. Just because they are
well-portrayed and amiable does not mean that they are
significant. Of the few Hou films that I have seen,
Flight of the Red Balloon is by far the least layered.
Sure, the movie is more diverting and more purely imagined
than the average disposable character-study, but it is
still disposable nonetheless. Every time I try to find
greater praise for the film somewhere within me, the only
descriptor I can offer it is the exact same one that I did
in the opening of this review: pleasant.
Ruzowitzsky’s
The Counterfeiters is a much deeper and far more
accomplished motion picture than Flight of the Red
Balloon. To call this a “Holocaust Drama” or a “World
War II Film” would be doing a grave disservice to the
notable complexity of the work. While The
Counterfeiters may take place in a concentration camp,
it bears little in common with the image that one
typically associates with the setting. This is a film
about the complex moral dilemmas of a certain group of
individuals who were oppressed by Hitler’s brutal regime,
but not through mass genocide. Sure, the characters
imprisoned in the picture are certainly aware of the fact
that the Nazis could kill them at any time and that the
group is actively massacring other individuals of their
religious faith. But, for the most part, The
Counterfeiters side-skirts the immediate threat of
bloodshed in favor of shining a light on one of the more
psychological ways in which Nazis destroyed innocent human
lives.
The film is based
on a true story, which took place during the mid-1930s in
World War II-dominated Europe. Its protagonist is German
Salomon “Sally” Sorowitsch (Karl Markovitz) who, the
viewer learns, was once considered the world’s greatest
counterfeiter. Money, passports, identification cards, you
name it – Sally and his team of experts could counterfeit
it. When the Nazis took him prisoner (he was Jewish), they
realized that they could use Sally to execute a
massive-scale counterfeiting plan. This plan came to be
headed by Heinrich Himmler himself, and its main mission
was to successfully create tamper-proof replicas of the
British Pound and the American Dollar. The Nazis believed
that, if they could manufacture enough of these
currencies, they could flood the economies of Great
Britain and the United States and thereby successfully
take over the Western World. Sally was provided a massive
team of other prisoners so that he was able to counterfeit
the money and, as a gift for working on the project, he
and his men were afforded many luxuries that most
prisoners of concentration camps would never dream of.
Despite the grand
consequences of the characters’ actions in The
Counterfeiters, the film’s content is handled with a
stunning and restrained amount of intimacy. The movie’s
central theme regards the morality of Sally and company’s
actions. Is it right that they are helping the Nazis in
order to save themselves from systematic execution and to
live in conditions that will prevent them from becoming
malnourished or infected by diseases? One of Sally’s
workers, Adolf Burger (August Diehl), does not believe so,
and eventually jeopardizes the group’s safety by refusing
to carry out his very-important role in the operation.
(The film is actually based off of Burger’s autobiography,
despite the fact that he is presented as a supporting
character in it.)
The
aforementioned moral dilemma permeates through every scene
in the entire picture. Viewers are able to see both sides
of the issue, heartbreakingly realizing that these men
shouldn’t have to make the decision that the Nazis have
forced them to come to terms with. In this respect, The
Counterfeiters is equally as effective as most
serious, violent dramas about the Holocaust are, quietly
sneaking up on the viewer in a manner that allows them to
fully understand the solemn consequences of the Nazis’
injustices.
The performances
of Markovitz and Diehl greatly aid in making the film the
emotionally affecting work that it is. Both make sure to
create characters that understand one another; Sally and
Adolf are never meant to seem like rivaling characters,
just men who react to an extraordinary situation
differently. Sally’s feeling of responsibility for his
established troupe, perfectly depicted by Markovitz, makes
him feel the need to continue the counterfeiting
operation. Adolf, on the other hand, understands the
greater context of the situation and believes that it
would be selfish of him to do so. Both actors are
remarkably subtle in their approaches, but entirely
brilliant in creating equally empathetic figures. A scene
in the film’s final act (which I need not spoil) involving
the counterfeiters’ reaction to a group of “real”
concentration camp prisoners is particularly effective in
showing the consequences of Sally and Adolf’s points of
view. This scene is handled by Markovitz and Diehl with a
crowning degree of emotional authenticity.
The
Counterfeiters is entirely engrossing not only for its
realistic depiction of actual events, but for its
narrative unpredictability. Despite its considerable
amount of historical content, the film feels more like a
work of cinema than a Social Studies lesson, thereby
increasing its power as both. Viewers unfamiliar with the
story (as I was) will find themselves on the edge of their
seats watching the plot’s events as captured by
cinematographer Benedict Neuenfels’ gritty, zoom-employing
shots. For both its enlightening telling of a little-known
part of a devastating time in human history and its
notable filmic richness, The Counterfeiters is a
terrific motion picture.
With that being
said, Day Six at AFI Fest 2007 has ended for me. Day Seven
will bring a close to my time at this year’s festival. On
the whole, it has been a wonderful (if exhausting) time
for me to binge on a host of pedigreed releases. While I
will wait to post more extensive comments on tomorrow’s
coverage, I will say one thing for now: AFI Fest 2008 is
definitely a go for me.
-Danny Baldwin, Bucket Reviews
(post date: 12.1.2007)
