By Amy Nicholson
By Sam Weisberg
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Chuck Wilson
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Amy Nicholson
By Carolina Del Busto
Time Regained, the tastefully brash, subtly eccentric, and altogether triumphant Raúl Ruiz adaptation of the labyrinthian volume that brings Marcel Proust's Remembrance of Things Past to its magnificent conclusion, is a golden reverie on a passing agenamely ours.
Writing in the light of the Lumière brothers' cinematographe, Proust sought to have his readers visualize temporality; filming at the dawn of the digital era, Ruiz allows the flow of static images through the movie projector to merge with the stream of time, while pondering the paradox of memories fixed in emulsion. Time Regained's characters are introduced as the dying Proust shuffles through his collection of photos. "Then one day," he muses, "everything changes."
The movie searches for that day. A humorously shocking scene in a male bordello notwithstanding, Time Regainedwhich had its local premiere at the last New York Film Festivalis primarily a series of spectacular social gatherings through which men stroll beneath outsize hats and women glide in feathered finery. The action is set mainly during the always off-camera First World War, and everyone is living le mode rétro. The funerals are oddly festive; the other receptions have a comic haunted-house feel. At one, the guests obligingly turn to stone to serve as screens for the shadow play of the child Marcel's magic lantern. Elsewhere, figures are frozen and illuminated by the camera while Ruiz integrates vintage films throughoutreveling in the presence of this new entertainment machine.
Written and directed by Bruno Dumont
A Winstar release
Through June 27
Directed by Jean Vigo
Written by Vigo and Albert Riéra
A New Yorker rerelease
June 16 through 22
Proust is a writer whose work defeated such would-be adapters as Joseph Losey, Bernardo Bertolucci, and Luchino Visconti. Volker Schlöndorff eliminated Marcel's subjective consciousness in his tepid adaptation of Swann's Way; Ruiz makes this observer his central character. The bedridden writer is visited by ghosts in his dreams and watched by his childhood self in his memories. A pursed and pomaded near-double for Proust, Italian actor Marcello Mazzarella makes a dapper little outsider in an ostentatiously glittering ensemble. Even the star turnswhich include such once and future divas as Catherine Deneuve, Emmanuelle Béart, Marie-France Pisier, and Edith Scobare fully inhabited performances. As the perverse Baron Charlus, John Malkovich is the personification of wit, and particularly after his character suffers a stroke, the actor's French only improves his mannerist delivery.
Given the audacity of adapting the last novel in a multivolume series, Time Regained presents a few difficulties for those unfamiliar with Proust's novelalthough it also serves as a superb trailer. (When the movie opened in the U.K. early this year, it elevated Proust to best-sellerdom.) As David Cronenberg did with Naked Lunch, Ruiz has made a film about the novelit is a meditation on, rather than a copy of, the original. Ruiz imagines Proust as though Proust were imagining a movie. (Thanks to the model Ruiz provides, Hou Hsiao-hsien's time-twisting masterpiece, The Puppetmaster, becomes retrospectively "Proustian.")
Although Time Regained is not as aggressively cheap or provocatively lurid as standard Ruiz, the Chilean-born filmmaker has not abandoned his "underdeveloped" disrespect for European culture. At times, Time Regainedsuggests an irreverently lively, historical, and colorized version of Last Year at Marienbad. Playfully jumbling time and space, freezing the moment and choreographing long, fluid takes, doubling back to jump ahead, it's full of surprises. The most amazing thing is that this may be the most relaxed movie Ruiz has ever made. Would that it were the most commercially successful. The daring of the conception is matched only by the brilliance of the execution. (All hail Kino in releasing what is so far the most exhilarating movie-movie of the year.)
With misplaced nostalgia, contemporary filmmakers continue to revisit those literary classics written before there were movies. Ruiz is more creatively anachronistic. This is a 20th-century movie about a 20th-century novel. The filmmaker attempts to approximate not Proust's prose but rather the writer's modernist, multiple-perspective simultaneity. People are simultaneously old and young. Marcel wanders through the crypt after his child self. As the camera moves, statues parade through a shifting foreground. Time Regained is a testament to Marcel's understanding that "the true paradises are those we lost"which is to say that the pleasure it provides is the involuntary memory of cinema itself.
Where Time Regained feels effortless and supple, the scarcely less ambitious Humanité makes a more muscle-bound bid for greatness. Bruno Dumont's outrageously deadpan police procedurala scandal at the 1999 Cannes Film Festival, where it won second prize toRosettaflirts boldly with the ridiculous in bringing a Bressonian gravitas to life on the coastal plain of northeastern France.
Site of battlefields and massacres, this is a landscape to drive the peasants mad. Set in what could be the same bland red-brick town as Dumont's 1998 Life of Jesusa place as tense and empty as an audition stageHumanité exudes a similar sense of belligerent time-wasting. But where Life of Jesus was strong, classical filmmaking, a subtly stylized form of low-key naturalism, Humanité is more visually grandiose. For most of its two and a half hours, the film walks the line between the abstract and the concrete, opening with the tiny figure of the protagonistan ununiformed policeman named Pharaonrunning across the wide-screen windswept ridge. The images are bracingly crisp and sometimes, as when Dumont cuts first to Pharaon slipping in the mud and then to the violated corpse of a prepubescent girl, unforgettable.
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