Movie Review - The Past

The Past (Le passé) (2013)

Starring Bérénice Bejo, Tahar Rahim, Ali Mosaffa, Pauline Burlet, Elyes Aguis, and Jeanne Jestin

Directed by Asghar Farhadi

I was a huge fan of director-screenwriter Asghar Farhadi's last film A Separation (seriously, if you haven't seen it, don't let the subtitles frighten you), so I was very much looking forward to delving into The Past when I heard it was being released last year.  Veering away from the Middle East (although maintaining characters who reside from there), The Past takes place in France as Marie (Bérénice Bejo) is reuniting with her estranged husband Ahmad (Ali Mosaffa) to finalize a divorce after having been separated for several years.  Their relationship is perfectly civil with the duo realizing they simply weren't meant for each other, however, Marie's children (from a previous marriage) fawn over Ahmad much more than they care for Marie's new boyfriend Samir (Tahar Rahim).  Samir comes with a bit of baggage as well in the form of a young son who struggles to accept Marie as a new guardian.  The rest of the plot stems from the fact that Marie wants a divorce because she wants to marry Samir -- and none of the children involved love this notion.  Secrets then are gradually revealed, but, much like A Separation, it's best if you come to the film as unencumbered as possible in order to get the full impact of Farhadi's emotional plot.

Granted, there are times when The Past feels soap operatic (much more so than A Separation), however, the film works for the most part thanks to a strong performance from Ali Mossafa who anchors the flick in reality amidst the chaos that is going on all around him.  Bérénice Bejo (you know her from The Artist) won Best Actress at Cannes last year for this performance, but I can't necessarily agree with that win simply because her character feels a bit too shrill and overly emotional.  I found Marie to be the least "believable" character of anyone in the film and that's not really the fault of Bejo, but moreso lies in the way Farhadi wrote the character.

The film meanders a bit, but really does have a rather interesting final act in which pieces of this simplistic, though highly emotional, family puzzle come together.  I'd have rated this even higher if the film's final scene was a little more clear to me.  It's tough to discuss without spoiling things, but I'll try and be as vague as possible.  The film's final scene packs an emotional wallop as it is, but it ended rather open-ended.  So, wanting to see what the blogosphere thought of the ending, I went online and discovered that I had totally missed a very key element in the final scene.  This element is so nondescript that it's completely obvious why I missed it, but considering that it plays such an important role in the meaning of the ending, I can't help but think Farhadi could've made it a smidge more obvious.  Perhaps it's having to read the English subtitles that made me miss it, but regardless, this important element is incredibly easy to glance over.  The ending still "works" and is still powerful even without this pivotal piece of information, however, it's even more powerful (and gut-wrenching) having the knowledge of what Farhadi really wanted us to see.

The Past is a decent flick -- one that is worth watching if foreign dramas appeal to you -- and it certainly increased my appreciation for director-writer Asghar Farhadi.  However, I'd recommend the director's A Separation before this in a heartbeat.

The RyMickey Rating:  B

Movie Review - The Artist

The Artist (2011)

Starring Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, Penelope Ann Miller, James Cromwell, and John Goodman

Directed by Michel Hazanavicius

Certainly one of my most anticipated films of 2011, The Artist had a lot of likely impossible buzz to live up to and, unlike The Muppets (which lived up to and exceeded my lofty expectations), French director Michel Hazanavicius' ode to early Hollywood falls a tiny bit short.  Don't get me wrong -- The Artist is a very good film.  It unfortunately lacks a little bit of emotional oomph I was longing for and stands more as a technical achievement and acting tour de force than a movie that tugs at your heartstrings.

In The Artist, Michel Hazanavicius has crafted a black-and-white silent film about the end of silent films.  Certainly borrowing heavily from films like Singin' in the Rain and Citizen Kane (to name only a few), this flick is a love story to cinema which is why I could easily see it picking up many Oscars at this year's Academy Awards.  As the flick opens, popular silent film actor George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) finds his star still on the rise.  Along with his adorable tag-along pooch, George is much beloved by the public.  It is at the premiere of his newest film where he first meets Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), who accidentally bumps into him as he is being interviewed by the press.  Trying to make the most of her fifteen minutes of fame, Peppy becomes a "regular gal-turned-actress," and she and George begin a nice friendship that both wish could grow to something with more romantic undertones except that George is unhappily married to Doris (Penelope Ann Miller) who is constantly aggravated with her husband.

When the studio head Al Zimmer (John Goodman) approaches George to be in a newfangled "talking picture," George balks at the idea and leaves the studio that gave him his big break behind.  As he funds his own silent film, George finds his star power waning while Peppy's is on the rise thanks to her participation in sound films.  With George in the dumps and Peppy living large, their roles have reversed, but neither have forgotten about their suppressed love for one another despite the fact that their industry has attempted to push them apart.

The story is perfectly pleasant and certainly simple enough to be told with minimal title/dialog cards, yet it absolutely kept my interest the whole way through thanks in large part to some great performances from Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo.  Dujardin, in particular, is kinda fantastic as the charmer George Valentin.  Obviously, acting in a silent film (and a silent film that pays homage to those that came before it) requires a bit of what we may nowadays call "over-acting," but Dujardin rarely stoops to that level.  Instead, he takes a simple eyebrow raise and clues the audience in to exactly what his character is thinking, walking the normally precarious line between melodrama and seriousness (both of which are requirements for his character to perform) with great ease.  Ms. Bejo, on the other hand, does tend to favor (or was told to mimic) the more dramatic style of acting most would likely associate with silent films.  Don't take that as a detriment, however, as Bejo is exuberant and quite a joy to watch onscreen.

There are several moments of ingeniousness by director and writer Michel Hazanavicius that to reveal here would ruin their effectiveness on film, but needless to say, there were several moments that had me smiling simply because of his directorial and screenwriting choices.  The film looks absolutely beautiful as well and his vision of creating a 1920s-style flick with all the conventions that entails -- those "sweeping" scene changes, a near-constant musical score, to name a few -- is absolutely successful.

However, the film lacks a little bit of that emotional oomph I was hoping for.  Ultimately, I think the reason falls on the fact that the film, even in its most dour of moments, is wholeheartedly a melodrama and because of that, it never quite takes itself serious enough for me to get serious about it.  Still, unlike what is often the case for me, The Artist is sitting quite well as it stews in my mind as I type out this review. In fact, as I've pondered over the flick, I've raised my grade by half a point (although you'll have to forgive me if 24 hours from now, I feel like changing it back...which [edited to add] I did...I'm still internally debating the B+/A- here).  In the end, The Artist is a charming film that can't help but elicit many smiles out of moviegoers who give this old-school, black-and-white, silent film a chance.

The RyMickey Rating:  B+