Un conte de Noël (A Christmas Tale)
directed by Arnaud Desplechin
written by Arnaud Desplechin and Emmanuel Bourdieu
starring Catherine Deneuve, Jean-Paul Roussillon, Anne Consigny, Mathieu Amalric, Melvil Poupaud, Hippolyte Girardot, Emmanuelle Devos, Chiara Mastroianni, Laurent Capelluto, Emile Berling
The absolute torture inherent in the grueling relationships of a derelict family is exploited in this choice French drama directed by renowned film maker Arnaud Desplechin.
The Vuillard family is held together by exceedingly fragile strings that nevertheless can choke the life out of anyone who steps too far out of line. Junon is the steady, officious matriarch of the clan who discovers she is dying of leukemia, the same disease that took her first son when he was seven. There is a possibility that the fact that she carries the same gene that killed her son might contribute to her subsequent depression but it’s never discussed or disclosed. Still, she mopes about and her presence always creates a heaviness that is exhausting and almost blinding. Still, underneath the weight there is a tremendous warmth that is equally formidable. She somehow manages to keep the family from completely falling apart.
There are two essential riffs in this family. Sister Elizabeth (Consigny) claims to despise her younger brother Henri (Amalric) for something the film does not reveal. She reaches such a point of frustration with him that she banishes him from the family for six years upon clearing up some debts that he owed regarding a studio. The film documents his return to the clan and their ongoing conflict. Still, considering the mental and physical energy that Elizabeth puts into separating herself from Henri it is clear that she doesn’t loathe him nearly as much as she appears to. The other disordered relationship occurs between Henri and Junon. This pair claim to never have loved each other although they seem to share a strong bond that can only occur between a mother and her child. They don’t go at each other directly in this film and project their jabs in subtle ways. But there is an obvious warmth between them that cannot be denied. Indeed this is a family whose love for one another has become obscured yet remains the core impetus of their interaction with one another.
Henri is what might conveniently be labeled the “black sheep” of the family. He is prone to loud proclamations that usually have to do with how underappreciated he is by the rest of the family. Amalric plays him with a certitude and a blistering intensity so profoundly vital that he seems to be perpetually on the verge of some great soliloquy or a sordid and loopy nervous breakdown. He’s given such eloquent words that one imagines him tormented in some dingy hotel with a bottle and a notepad pouring out years of agonies and disruptions. Henri is a fascinating character and it’s impossible to take one’s eyes off of Amalric.
Junon’s cancer hangs over everyone’s head. She requires a bone marrow donor and two matches are found: Henri and Elizabeth’s son Paull (Berling). This creates a tremendous amount of tension as Elizabeth cannot bear to have her son put through such a dangerous operation but she can’t believe that Henri could actually go through with it. It’s perfectly strange that Henri would indeed subject himself to the extraction but his resolution further suggests that he holds a different set of opinions regarding his mother.
Abel Vuillard, Papa, watches the dramas unfolds and only occasionally interjects himself into them. He is a vital paternal presence who clearly has seen his way through many similar situations and knows the value of noncommital observation. As his family tears into one another in various assaults he merely allows the torments to play themselves out until he sees an opportunity to speak. He is not soft. He does speak up and it roars like thunder. He chooses his inroads and capitalizes on them as his basic position is to remain in the foreground and take advantage of openings that present themselves. Henri is not so diplomatic, of course. He takes control of conversations and lambasts his parents with a silly analogy that is clearly designed to hurt them. He hurls himself verbally at Elizabeth and they tear into each other’s throats like two horny rams fighting over a ewe. It’s a glorious sight to watch these two ram their horns into one another as it is clear that neither one has either the strength or the intention to put the other one away. It’s a fight that is exhausting and you expect them to sort out their differences by film’s end but everything is left as open as it was the first moment Elizabeth eyed Henri who had returned after a long absence that Elizabeth had initiated.
Youngest son Ivan (Poupaud) is presented as someone capable of getting to the bottom of things and solving disagreements but he doesn’t do much of that in this film. He doesn’t save anyone from themselves or create bridges between people. What he does is some ultra slick Dj-ing at a club where the kids find themselves bored as they are sitting about the house. Otherwise he isn’t connected to the main drama and his position proves rather irrelevant to the overall thrusts of the narrative. There is another character named Simon (Capelluto) who seems to have no role in the film. He is presented as having a long term obsession with Ivan’s wife, Sylvia (Mastroianni) which culminates in them sleeping together ostensibly with Ivan’s approval. These scenes are peripheral and lead to frustration over a two and a half hour running time that could have been cut by forty five minutes and been more potent. As it stands the narrative weakens as the film progresses and the tenacity with which the combatants charge at each other ceases to make its mark on the viewer.
Elizabeth is perpetually in mourning for something she cannot name throughout this film. Eventually the waterworks and sniveling grate on the nerves although I imagine we’re supposed to be with her all the way to the end. Her crying and self-loathing make for an interesting side note but overall they irritate the senses. Again, some editing might have helped make these scenes more ghastly and profoundly nuanced. Instead they just seem to be redundant and occasionally hackneyed.
The performances in this film are all quite good. Mathieu Amalric is positively exquisite with his performance. He electrifies the screen whenever he makes an appearance. He projects his character’s conflicts quite convincingly and turns out to be the only character one wants to follow out the door and into the rest of his life. Amalric is so good physically in this film. Just the way he moves his body is extraordinary. Catherine Deneuve certainly makes her character’s psychological distress believable. In this film she expresses a strength that Junon has to fight to achieve and it’s clear on screen that she does so admirably. Jean-Paul Roussillon as Abel projects a strange combination of passivity and totemic presence. He’s clearly the strong bull who has established a fortress for those to whom he is deeply grateful to enjoy. He’s a giant of a man who writes music and clearly possesses a deep appreciation for fine arts. Anne Consigny presents a hapless character who is grasping at straws. Her performance is uniformly excellent even if the character is an annoying as hell twit and deserves whatever sack of dung falls on her head in the future.
Overall, this film is certainly worth seeing if not a bit too long. It meanders in the middle but there are definitely many parts to the film that are moving and thrilling in their own way. The film has a decisive look and everything is sharply photographed. Ultimately, it’s a film about tormented people who happen to get stuck together out of tradition or some pathetic need to be recognized by people who seem the least willing to see you in the end. There is a childishness about these people but ultimately they are enjoyable as gross examples of the choices humanity makes to torture itself.
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