L’Avenir (Things to Come, 2016)

The last two films I’ve seen at the cinema have been this and Andrzej Żuławski’s Cosmos, both French films by directors with non-French ancestry, both set amongst a close-knit group of intellectuals gravitating away from the city, but otherwise films with quite a different temperament. For where Cosmos is dead set with every fibre of its creation against bourgeois affectations, Things to Come instead mounts something of an apologia for the bourgeoisie.

However, I’m getting ahead of myself, and the comparison comes from happenstance, so I shan’t get too bogged down in such comparisons; suffice to say I enjoyed Mia Hansen-Løve’s new film very much (and I am clearly also partial to the consolations of the middle-class). Its pleasures are not immediate, but come from an intense focus on the character of Nathalie (played by an ever-excellent Isabelle Huppert), a philosophy teacher at a French high school, who prides herself on opening her students’ minds, even as her own marriage seems stuck. For characters whose lives are so mired in stasis (whether existentially or literally — there are a lot of very abstruse books, and most characters crack them open to read on a regular basis), the camerawork and staging for much of the film is filled with movement. My feeling of it, though, is that this constant movement settles down after a succession of personal setbacks (Nathalie’s husband resolves to leave her, and her mother dies suddenly). She is left to reassess her life, living for a while with her mother’s cat Pandora at a former student’s countryside commune.

As I said, the film’s pleasures are chiefly in the observation of Nathalie’s life’s rituals, and in little amusing details. I particularly liked, as just one example, the sequence where she tries to angrily consign her now-moved-out-husband’s consolatory flowers to the bin, but finding it too narrow for their showy proportions, bags them up in a blue Ikea bag and throws them in her flat’s rubbish skip, pauses, then goes back to retrieve the Ikea bag. I’m not even sure the divorce is really the key to the film (it seems central to a lot of the film’s write-ups), so much as a structural conceit. Things to Come is more interested in the life of a woman who has moved away from predicating her existence on men (or indeed any sense of community, it sometimes seems); it somewhat reminds me of Gertrud in this respect, even if it doesn’t share many of Dreyer’s formal qualities or staginess.

The film may not have the edginess or punch of some young directors’ works (or indeed that of Żuławski), but it is reminiscent instead of the best of bourgeois French cinema (Assayas, say, or Téchiné), seemingly gentle on the surface yet hiding barbed insights.

L'Avenir (Things to Come, 2016)

Director/Writer Mia Hansen-Løve | Cinematographer Denis Lenoir | Starring Isabelle Huppert, Roman Kolinka, André Marcon, Édith Scob | Length 102 minutes || Seen at Curzon Bloomsbury, London, Saturday 3 September 2016


LFF: Eden (2014)

BFI London Film Festival FILM FESTIVAL FILM REVIEW: London Film Festival || Seen at Odeon West End, London, Friday 17 October 2014 || My Rating 4 stars excellent

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Mia Hansen-Løve is a young French director whose work has been gaining some acclaim on the festival circuit, and this collaboration with her brother Sven apparently springs from his time as a DJ. It’s a sprawling film that charts around 20 years in the life of one central character, Paul (the winsomely smiling Félix de Givry), from 1991 through to 2013, though like most such undertakings he and those around him don’t seem to age markedly (aside from a little stubble and changes of hairstyle here and there). However, this doesn’t seem particularly troubling given the rut of perpetual adolescence he seems to be stuck in, thanks to his career spinning house records at French clubs. To be honest, this isn’t a musical scene of which I have any knowledge, and like most people it begins and ends at Daft Punk (whose twin creators Thomas and Guy-Man have a running gag in the film of being turned away from Paul’s club, due to their level of anonymity). The film does feature appearances from some key musical acts, and includes a brief visit to Chicago, but you hardly need to be au fait with the scene to enjoy the film, as it focuses mostly on Paul and his stunted development and relationships, as well as the rise-and-fall arc of his career. It’s just as well, too, that de Givry is such a likeable screen presence, because for most of the film his character has difficulty dealing with grown-up situations and feelings, and tends to push away those he most cares about. It’s a credit to the director too that such a character in such a setting can still compel, but it does, a beautifully-shot and losely-structured ode to music, and the difficulties inherent in trying to carve out a career within it.

CREDITS || Director Mia Hansen-Løve | Writers Mia Hansen-Løve and Sven Hansen-Løve | Cinematographer Denis Lenoir | Starring Félix de Givry, Pauline Etienne | Length 131 minutes