September 2, 2004
By Matt Savelloni
“THE WHOLE CAMPAIGN WAS A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.” – George McGovern
Buried in the dog days of August – otherwise known as the dumping ground of Hollywood – we are stuck with less than stellar choices for our theater-going pleasure. Yes, VANITY FAIR is opening this week but I do not have the stomach for another costume drama, on the page or on screen. Let us turn instead to the “printed” inspiration of a very modern upcoming vehicle – the screenplay for L’APPARTEMENT by Gilles Mimouni.
L’APPARTEMENT is classic French cinema, a tale of romance, lust, attraction, sex, mystery, redemption, happiness, obsession and – above all else – passion.
Or is it?
Mimouni draws inspiration from a number of New Wave influences: Truffaut-esque chic, Clément-ian intrigue and jittery Clouzot-ish fixations. If those references impart significance, L’APPARTEMENT may be just the film for you. If those names are meaningless, you may find the tale plodding and disingenuous. Mimouni’s writing works hard to pay homage to cinematic greatness rather than to reproduce anything cribbed from believable reality. It’s a movie-movie, high-concept, but infused with brio and panache, the screenplay providing ample opportunity for the players to stretch their thespian muscles.
“PASSION AND SHAME TORMENT HIM, AND RAGE IS MINGLED WITH HIS GRIEF.” – Virgil
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I can see why Mimouni was able to attract such an esteemed cast in Vincent Cassel, Monica Belluci, Jean-Philippe Écoffey, Romane Bohringer and Sandrine Kiberlain – his script is chockablock full of twists and turns, passionate reprisals and soul-shattering revelations. Rarely are film actors offered such extensive, theatrical emotions. One minute, romantic comedy flourishes, the next, ribald sex and eroticism erupt, while tightening suspense follows both. From a compositional standpoint, L’APPARTEMENT must have read like a steamy page-turner with heartfelt invigorating witticism. However, the translation of such brilliant writing proves slightly problematic.
Because there is so much disparity, L’APPARTEMENT’s exhibition stands on loose soil. It is difficult to grasp the characters’ inner selves and the inscrutability in which they find themselves. For such a passionate movie, the script spends much of its time trying to make up for its shape-shifting theme. The non-linear construction also suffers from Ebert’s Law of Economy of Characters: “all characters in a movie are necessary to the story—even those who do not seem to be.” The impossible sequence of events and mysteries surrounding Lisa’s disappearance ultimately prove to hold routine explanations involving only those characters with which we have spent the majority of time. The film, therefore, becomes a game of concentration where the viewer tries to remember a particular character quirk to help them guess the Big Secret. As if realizing this tendency, Mimouni calls upon repeated film-school camera tricks to keep viewers off-guard, sleight-of-hand that strikes a note of anxious manipulation.
And yet despite its visual weakness, you can sense the mastery of construction and dialogue and appreciate the wonderful character setups inherent in L’APPARTEMENT’s script. Cassel’s yuppie comer Max is phenomenally lonely despite his affluence. Écoffey’s Lucien wears his heart on his sleeve in a lovelorn portrait of a faded playboy. Bohringer’s Alice displays both confident charm and distressed craving as either a wounded victim or scheming predator. And Belluci’s raw beauty as Lisa overwhelms all, even the audience, promising blissful redemption that just may be unobtainable. L’APPARTEMENT may be too earnest for its own good, resorting to plodding reality in an attempt to explain all of its peculiarity, but the allure of its screenplay is most definitely writ in the stars.
“WHILE ALL DECEPTION REQUIRES SECRECY, ALL SECRECY IS NOT MEANT TO DECEIVE.” – Sissela Bok
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Too bad Hollywood doesn’t understand the difference. I can’t figure out if it’s the routine dreadfulness of Tinseltown’s products or their inability to recruit worthwhile marketers that is making trailer viewing such a slog, but if WICKER PARK respects L’APPARTEMENT in any way, then the remake being advertised – like a few of its characters – is a complete and utter lie.
If I knew nothing about L’APPARTEMENT, from its trailer I would assume it to be FATAL ATTRACTION for the Tiger Beat crowd. I mean, it’s obvious either Matthew (Josh Hartnett) or Alex (Rose Byrne) is out of his or her mind, right? And just what did happen to Matthew’s love-at-first-sight paramour, Lisa (Diane Kruger)? Something nefarious, the trailer intones with its low orchestral cues and quick cutting. Well, unless they’ve completely changed the story – not unusual in the history of dumb Hollywood bastardizations – then this teaser was compiled by carnival barkers insecure about their production trying to woo as many opening weekend dollars as possible. Know this: L’APPARTEMENT is a romantic mystery. It is not a thriller, although it does possess suspenseful beats. It is not a revenge story nor is it drenched in bitter mayhem. It is a story about the disconcerting effects of love, both good and bad. In other words, despite its plot contrivances, it is a drama predominantly concerned with the reawakening of its main characters. So if you are hoping for boiled pets on the stove, look elsewhere.
With that in mind, it is not beyond the realm of reason to expect a decent mind-twisting love story. The cast is young and pretty as to be expected but the two talents of real interest are writer Brandon Boyce and director Paul McGuigan. Boyce previously adapted APT PUPIL from the novella by Stephen King to help create an unjustly underrated film. And McGuigan caught my interest with two rather contrasting films: the insanely rowdy and violent GANGSTER NO. 1 and the period mystery THE RECKONING. Such talent for diversity combined with Boyce’s devotion to existing material may be the one reliable aspect of WICKER PARK.
“In youth the human body drew me and was the object of my secret and natural dreams. But body after body has taken away from me that sensual phosphorescence which my youth delighted in. Within me is no disturbing interplay now, but only the steady currents of adaptation and of sympathy.” – Haniel Long
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