UN COEUR EN HIVER (A HEART IN WINTER)
reviewed by
Robert Figueroa
Music is a metaphor for passion in Claude Sautet's "un Coeur en Hiver" ("A Heart in Winter"), starring Daniel Auteuil and Emmanuelle Béart, two French cinema stars perhaps best known in America for their roles in "Jean de Florette" and its sequel, "Manon of the Spring." The beautiful Béart plays Camille, a young violin virtuoso; Auteuil is Stéphane, a master violin maker who repairs and fine-tunes her instrument. Camille is romantically involved with Maxime (André Dussollier), Stéphane's partner in the violin shop, but she finds herself increasingly intrigued with and attracted to the mysterious, taciturn Stéphane.
When Stéphane watches her play, Camille's performs with brilliance and emotional fire. In his eyes she sees a passion missing both from her music and her life. But strangely, Stéphane's own fire seems to leave him cold; he can radiate it outward but not feel it himself. Emotionally damaged somehow as a youth (there is mention of his own frustrated musical aspirations but the issue is left largely unspecified), Stéphane takes a cold kind of pleasure in emotional gamesmanship. He prides himself in not fully returning others' feelings for him--whether it be friendship or love--even as he leads them on. When someone threatens to get too close, he deftly deflects the advance and slips away, cutting himself off. He reserves his deepest emotions, it seems, for the exquisitely-crafted but lifeless musical instruments he handles with such expert, loving care.
But Camille cannot be put off so easily. When he withdraws from her, she follows him, confronts him, makes scenes. Finally she forces him to reexamine his emotionally isolated life.
A subtle, unhurried, yet ultimately profound rumination on the complex interactions of desire, love, and fear--the emotions at the heart of all human motivation--"Un Coeur en Hiver" is a film as finely crafted in its own way as the musical instruments and musical pieces (mostly by Ravel) it features. Intellectually challenging in its themes, the movie also tells a compelling story. And the performances are all top notch. I highly recommend it.
"BOUND BY HONOR"
reviewed by
Robert Figueroa
Risk-taking is not something Hollywood goes in for much these days. For whatever reasons, big-name stars are almost invariably chosen over talented lesser-knowns, proven formulas beat out fresh ideas, and there are seemingly a hundred sequels, remakes, or rehashes for every truly original script. So when a major studio decides to produce a film like "Bound by Honor," about the darker aspects of the Mexican-American experience, written by a Chicano writer (Jimmy Santiago Baca) with no previous screenplay credits, starring relative unknowns Jesse Borrego ("New York Stories"), Benjamin Bratt ("One Good Cop") and Damian Chapa (making his film debut), the film becomes an instant underdog with a lot of people pulling for it.
Sadly, this latest effort from director Taylor Hackford ("An Officer and a Gentleman"), disappoints. For all the gritty reality of its setting--East L.A. and San Quentin prison--,the authenticity of the dialogue and fine performances by two of its three young Latino stars, the story remains curiously flat and formulaic. Two half-brothers and a cousin who grow up together are involved in a gang incident which changes and separates them. One goes to prison, one becomes a Marine and then a cop, the other embarks on an artistic career.
The movie strives to explore questions of Chicano male identity as the three characters' lives cross in predictable ways. We don't see enough of their relationships, or their growth as individuals, however, for these themes to be dealt with in any thorough or convincing way. What we get instead is an extended subplot which amounts to a rather conventional prison-gangster saga--albeit rendered with painstaking realism--involving violent power plays between competing racial cliques. At the center of the prison story is Miklo, the half-white, half Mexican cousin who unfortunately also becomes the de facto central figure of the movie. Unfortunate because his is the one seriously flawed performance by an otherwise excellent cast. Chapa is a promising but inexperienced actor whose portrayal is sometimes manic and overwrought, other times dimension-less and inexpressive.
However flawed, though, "Bound by Honor" is far from a disaster; in fact it's quite watchable. And keep an eye on Jesse Borrego and Benjamin Bratt (a Bay Area native), the young Chicano actors whose stars will certainly and deservedly be on the rise--in Hollywood and elsewhere.
"THE NIGHT WE NEVER MET"
reviewed by
Robert Figueroa
The premise of "The Night We Never Met" seems perfect for a light romantic comedy. Three people who have never met arrange to time-share a rent-controlled Manhattan apartment. Each of them--a frat-boy stock broker (Kevin Anderson), a young bohemian gourmet (Matthew Broderick), and a dissatisfied suburban wife and amateur painter (Annabella Sciorra)--uses the flat as a getaway on different days of the week, and thus each remains (until well into the film) a complete stranger to the others, except for what can be inferred from belongings and house habits.
Predictably, events conspire to entangle the "roomies" in intersecting romantic triangles. The plot centers on a case of mistaken identity (a venerable device that was already ancient when the Greek playwrights used it).
Written and directed by Warren Leight, the film has its comedic moments, especially those involving the always engaging Broderick. But for the most part the story feels contrived, and the characters are wafer thin-- stereotypical to the point of caricature. This might be overlooked in the case of the outrageously boorish stock broker, but becomes disturbing when the subjects are women. Leight, while appearing to ridicule sexism with one hand, seems to revel in it with the other.
For example: a male character fantasizes out loud about meeting a beautiful Norwegian tourist, and presto, turns around to face the buxom Helga, map in hand, asking for directions. This is beer-commercial humor, superficially funny with an underlying view of woman as plaything, as having no real existence outside the realm of male desire. Feminists may also cringe at two scenes in which different women playfully bark and beg for food, imitating dogs.
The film is hardly serious or important enough to warrant much condemnation, however. Those looking for extra-light entertainment might find it fits the bill. The rest of us, hungry for more substantial fare, will leave the theater with nothing more than a slight, annoying aftertaste.
CHAIN OF DESIRE
reviewed by
Robert Figueroa
Most movie plots revolve around the life-changing experiences of one or two main characters. Occasionally a very different kind a film comes along--one that largely dispenses with protagonists and character development in favor of a montage-like approach meant to more faithfully convey life's richness and complexity. European director Temistocles Lopez' "Chain of Desire" is such a film. Held together far more by theme than narrative, it is occasionally poetic, sometimes prosaic, frequently humorous, often revealing, and, in the end, a surprisingly satisfying exploration of sexual connection and disconnection in the 90's.
Set in New York City, "Chain" begins and ends with a song by Alma D'Angeli (Linda Fiorentino), chanteuse in a trendy cabaret-disco. In between occurs a succession of romantic and sexual episodes involving first Alma and a Latino laborer (Elias Koteas) she meets in a church, then the laborer and his wife (Angel Aviles), then the laborer's wife and a doctor (Patrick Bauchau) who employs her as a maid, then the doctor and the wife (Grace Zabriskie) of a TV reporter (Malcolm McDowell), then the TV reporter and a young male prostitute (Jamie Harrold). The chain continues from the teenage hustler to a bisexual male singer at the club (Dewey Weber), to the singer's virginal girlfriend (Holly Marie), to a lecherous abstract painter (Seymour Cassell) she meets at an art show, to the painter's jealous wife (Assumpta Serna), and to the painter's employee (Kevin Conroy) who engages in phone sex.
What connects these characters (the cast of mostly non-stars is uniformly excellent) is not the act of sex, but rather the subject of sexuality--its contexts and subtexts, its expressions and consequences. It is hard to imagine a more overtly sexual film, yet the sex, when it occurs (often it is only talked about, or started only to be quickly interrupted), is briefly and un-graphically depicted.
Based on an Arthur Schnitzler play first filmed by acclaimed director Max Ophuls in 1950, "Chain" is a quintessentially 90's treatment of an age-old theme. Hetero, homo, and bi-sexuality mix and merge, and the specter of AIDS, though rarely mentioned by name, hovers over all, finally giving the story an unexpected resonance and poignancy. There's also a scene, involving the safest kind of sex, that manages to be sexy, funny, and almost spiritually transcendent all at the same time--beautifully shot, it's an unforgettable cinematic moment.
The movie does have weaker moments as well; one or two scenes feel a little forced or unconnected, as if included solely for thematic coverage. For example, a sequence in which a woman tries to answer her young son's questions about sexual reproduction as they wait for "Daddy" to arrive (engaged in an extramarital pursuit, he is hours late), has potential but is not well realized. It comes off as a condescending and unnecessary reminder that one consequence of sex is children and the responsibility they entail.
Still, though not a masterpiece, "Chain" is an unusually daring and perceptive work. Some may be put off by its frankness and non-judgmental stance towards non-monogamy, homosexuality, and sex for sex' sake. But its rich milieu presents human sexuality in all its splendor, mystery, silliness, meanness, beauty and complexity--at once instinctual and emotionally complicated, deeply private and universal, potentially both life-giving and deadly. The film suggests that we should strive to understand, appreciate, and above all respect sexuality in all its shades, both in ourselves and others. "Chain of Desire" practices what it preaches.
“THE GIN GAME"
reviewed by
Robert Figueroa
All the virtues of community theater (as opposed to the mass entertainment it is forced to compete with) are in ample evidence in the Aurora Theatre Company's production of D.L. Coburn's Pulitzer prize-winning "The Gin Game." Compact and minimalist, this is theater at its most immediate and intimate, in which the actors (husband and wife Bill and Barbara Oliver) perform within arm's reach of their audience.
Seniors Fonsia Dorsey (Barbara) and Weller Martin (Bill) meet in a dismal retirement home. To pass the time they play gin, a card game at which Weller prides himself a master, and at which Fonsia claims to be a novice. But as Fonsia repeatedly routs Weller, and his bewilderment and anger rise, their friendly and potentially romantic relationship evolves into something else. In the process painful truths are revealed about their real personalities and histories, as the game becomes a metaphor for success and failure in life.
Bill Oliver is wonderful as Weller, perfectly balancing charm and a sarcastic wit with underlying rage and despair. He is a fine actor with great presence, both physically and vocally. Barbara Oliver is not quite as successful in the role of Fonsia: her performance, while engaging, fails to convey the degree of bitterness the portrayal ultimately demands.
This minor quibble aside, I highly recommend the play. This is Aurora Theatre Company's first season; hopefully there will be many more to follow. The elegant yet cozy Berkeley City Club (2315 Durant Ave.) is a nearly ideal venue for theater of this kind. "The Gin Game" runs only through June 6. Tickets are priced from $12 to $18. Call (510) 843-4822.
THE DICK AND THE DEVIL
reviewed by Robert Figueroa
Being forced to take outside work to sustain your artistic endeavors has its consolations, even apart from keeping you alive and reasonably solvent. Playwright/actor Gary Aylesworth bases his new solo play entirely on his experiences as a teacher of abused boys, and as a detective for an investigative firm--two jobs he somehow held simultaneously even as he struggled to make a career in theater.
As an investigator Aylesworth was assigned to the case of a notorious serial killer who was himself an abused child. Aylesworth the playwright weaves this single thread connecting the two experiences into a remarkably intricate, multi-layered reflection on violence and evil in contemporary America. Performing what is in essence a first person narrative, Aylesworth the actor switches between his autobiographic self and a Peter Falk-like character who narrates much of the action as a hard-boiled detective story, along the way interspersing dozens of brief but telling characterizations of everyone from a nine-year-old imitating his comic book superhero to the serial killer practicing a satanic ritual (all to live musical accompaniment by guitarist Peter Newton).
It's a rather ambitious work, both high powered and dense--so much so that Aylesworth sometimes barely manages to keep up with his own material. And not everything works; the play lacks a certain subtlety as well as the occasional quiet, reflective moment that helps give a story balance and resonance. But for the most part, the nearly manic mix of anguish and humor works very well.
"The Dick and the Devil" is a thought provoking and disturbing look at the male soul, revealing it to be too often an anguished and twisted place. Aylesworth implicates American culture, steeped as it is in violence, both real and stylized: violence as expression of manhood, violence as entertainment, violence as a solution, violence as power, violence as the preferred outlet for frustration and despair. At most we play lip service to the epidemic, he warns, and thus allow the evils to perpetuate through our children.
"The Dick and the Devil: a very private investigation," is directed by Mark Samuels and designed by Nancy McNally. It runs Thursdays-Saturdays through June 26 at the Noh Space, 2840 Mariposa Street, San Francisco. Tickets, priced at $10, are available through the Construction Crew Theater Company Box Office, by calling (415) 641-4454.