Mado

1976 Director Claude Sautet

In a corrupt, ruthless, dog-eat-dog world, are the bonds of friendship and loyalty more important and reliable than the fleeting connections of passion and romantic/erotic love? That is the rhetorical question posed in Claude Sautet's Mado, a clear-eyed, sombre, yet surprisingly sweet drama masquerading as a sort of noirish thriller.

The film recounts the misfortunes of Simon Léotard and his unique relationship with Mado, a prostitute whose services he avails himself of, who also acts as his buddy, moral conscience, and advisor in difficult times. Simon is a real estate developer whose business partner has committed suicide after having irretrievably indebted them to Lépidon, a corrupt competitor who means to undermine their enterprise by any means necessary. A toughened, world-weary old hand at the vicious games of the business world, Simon finds himself in real need of Mado and her loose group of idealistic, unemployed or wage-slaving acquaintances who can offer him ideas, knowledge, and aid as he manoeuvres to save his business and turn the tables on Lépidon.

 

Sautet is remarkably successful at smoothly shifting our attention away from the obligatory material aspirations and dealings of his characters and toward their human feelings, the responsibility they feel for one another. He ends the film not with any resolution or reassurance that our dreams and ambitions can work out, but with a gentle, empathetic sense of half-hopeful resignation. The characters cannot even come close to doing all they would really like to, for themselves or each other; but despite that disappointment, they will do what they can, and there is some small, unspoken glory in that.

Le Pont du Nord

1981 Director Jacques Rivette

This nearly lost film captures the visions and moods of a nearly lost Paris and of a mode of thought that was also on its way out.

It starts as a whimsical urban riff on the theme of chance connections: Marie, a toughened woman of a certain age, heads to Paris after getting out of prison and is joined by Baptiste (her real-life daughter), a long-limbed and fiercely determined dark angel who travels by scooter. Marie reunites with her boyfriend, Julien, a pathological gambler whose mysterious briefcase entangles him in big trouble that Baptiste decides to unravel.

The women’s poetic excursions through the ruins of industrial sites and Impressionist landscapes morph into a spy-versus-spy caper involving left-wing terrorist plots and government infiltration. The labyrinthine city of recondite romanticism and the bloody ideals of revolutionary heroism appear fated to vanish together, even as the chill of rational order reveals another shimmery layer of ingrained authority.

All that said in deference to experimental cinema; this is a truly awful film especially in post production. The sound is unedited which is jarring when going from cut to cut. There are numerous continuity errors. The plot is needlessly convoluted. The acting is hammed and over the top and the characters appear to have no motivation whatsoever. Unsurprisingly the ending is predictable and inconclusive. Really one to avoid.

The Turin Horse

2011 Director Béla Tarr

This film, in some ways, is the most extreme of Tarr's films and yet the simplest. Co-written, once again, by novelist Laszlo Krasznahorkai, The Turin Horse is a minimalist distillation of Tarr's cinema: little more than a man, a woman, a horse, a house, some wretched weather, and very few words. The narrative content is so slender that it's barely even an anecdote, yet the film has the disturbing resonance of some ancient imponderable fable.

It all begins in darkness, as a narrator intones the apocryphal tale of how Nietzsche went mad – supposedly after seeing a horse beaten in Turin. After this incident, the German philosopher lapsed forever more into silence. The punchline: "No one knows what happened to the horse".
Thereafter, it's as if the film – indeed, the whole world – turns to near-silence. The story is told with few words but strong images, shot in long, sinuously executed takes.

This is a film of uncertainties – and because there's nothing solid to grasp in the narrative, what we cling to is the texture of the film itself. We become attentive to the ritualistic repetition of actions, to the prowling camera moves that map out the contours of this enclosed but oddly elastic universe, and to the eerie sound design – along with Mihaly Vig's creaky, dirge-like score, a ghastly three-note refrain has been mixed eerily into the sound of the wind itself, not just hauntingly but fit to drive you mad.

Shot in ascetically beautiful black and white by Fred Kelemen, this could almost be a documentary about 19th-century peasant life at its most challenging. But there's a mysterious metaphysical resonance about The Turin Horse that makes for the enigmatic numinousness of a Kafka parable. This is cinema so spare and silent it's on the verge of being Trappist cinema – and that is eloquence indeed.

Rebellion

2011 Director Mathieu Kassovitz

This film is something of a comeback for Mathieu Kassovitz, an intelligent political drama, part thriller, part war movie, and informed by something of the anger against established authority that fuelled La Haine.

Rebellion is based with some fidelity on a 1990 memoir by Philippe Legorjus, a captain in the GIGN (Groupe d'Intervention de la Gendarmerie Nationale), an elite unit of the armed forces charged with counterterrorism and hostage negotiation who took part in the brutal repression of an insurrection by inhabitants in the French overseas territory of New Caledonia. Legorjus, a man of probity torn between doing what is right and fulfilling his duty as a military man, is sensitively played by Kassovitz himself. Legorjus's book is called La morale et l'action, the film was released in France as L'ordre et la morale, and both titles are superior to the commonplace one under which it is being shown here.

At times Rebellion brings to mind Apocalypse Now (and, indeed, there are several references to Coppola's movie). It's an exciting, complex story about a government committed to realpolitik and convinced that national interest can justify any kind of sacrifice (including the truth) in order to retain influence. And it's about a man involved in a morally and politically complicated event that is ultimately beyond his control, but from which he doesn't believe he can escape. It's all the more interesting because the incident has been so rapidly forgotten, and indeed failed to become a cause celebre in its time.

Lemon Tree

2008 Director Eran Riklis

Based on a real story, "Lemon Tree" explores the painful human detail of life in a society warped from within and without by terrorism. It charts the plight of a Palestinian woman desperately trying to hang on to the lemon grove her family has tended for decades. As she tells us, she's suffered a lot in her life -- the loss of a husband, the absence of her children, the pain of loneliness and, as director Eran Riklis subtly suggests, the double disempowerment of being a Palestinian among Israelis, and a woman among Palestinians.

And now, with the Israeli defence minister moving in next door, she is about to lose her precious lemon grove, which thuggish security agents deem a potential hiding place for terrorists. Even the neglected wife of the minister, considers the order to chop down the trees arbitrary and unnecessary. But the two women live on opposite sides of the Green Line, in different worlds, and her sympathy from afar can do little to help.

Riklis has made a powerful film, but can a powerful film change anything about the fatalistic culture of powerlessness that is felt throughout Israel and the West Bank? Or does it merely clothe it in poetic garb, aestheticize it, render it as art, to be savoured as something deeply sad and tragic and beyond hope of repair? The irony of "Lemon Tree" is that what it achieves as film -- nuance, complexity, ambiguity -- only adds, in the end, to the sense that nothing can unravel this mess. That's a dangerous feeling to leave in your audience, when there are real lives and trees at stake.