Blog Archive

Sunday, May 22, 2016

L’attesa [a.k.a. The Wait](2015): Waiting For Nothing

L’attesa (English language title “The Wait”) is the first feature film directed by Piero Messina, whose last credit was as an assistant director of Paolo Sorrentino’s fabulous The Great Beauty (2013). L’attesa is also produced by the same team that gave us that film and Sorrentino's  Youth ( 2015). And, it stars the always wonderful Juliet Binoche (Three Colors: BLUE [1993], The English Patient [1996], Chocolat [2000]. Given that pedigree, I approached this new film with hopeful anticipation.

I wish I could say that my hopes were rewarded, but L’attesa does not measure up, and Messina is no Sorrentino, at least not yet.  

The movie definitely has some good things going for it. For one thing, It is lovely to look at. Set in rural Sicily, the  mis en scene is invitingly, comfortably upper class: a lovely, old estate home, a pristine lake surrounded by forest and low hills. Interior shots in particular are artfully framed. Many are shot using ambient morning or evening light, creating warm interior tones, glowing skin, and so forth. Messina features long takes, with lots of close-ups; and when your subject is Ms. Binoche, that’s not a bad strategy. Her co-star, twenty-five year old Lou de Laâge, a French actress with expressive eyes, a luscious mouth and (occasionally) a sweet, girlish smile, also gets a share of the camera’s attention, and this too is a good thing.  In short, L’attesa is a visually attractive film.

This picture is essentially what they call a two-hander, featuring two women of different generations, tied together by their love of the same man: Giuseppe.  Binoche is Anna, Giuseppe’s mother; and de Laâge is his girlfriend, Jeanne.

The film opens as a funeral reception at Anna’s home is concluding. Anna looks bereaved. Jeanne is just arriving from Paris at Giuseppe’s invitation. The two women don’t know each other, and Jeanne doesn’t know what’s going on. Giuseppe’s not there, but no one explains why. When she asks where he is, she gets surprised looks, but no answers.

Normally, I don’t go into too much detail about plot, so as to avoid giving away the ending and/or spoiling your pleasure of discovery. However, there is little to give away here. Presumably, Messina wants us to share in Jeanne’s confusion and to get caught up in a seeming mystery regarding Giusseppe’s whereabouts. But the “secret” is quite evident early on, and in fact, precious little “unfolds” over the course of this movie, because there is virtually no action, and the dialogue is spare and adds little of interest.  If you are concerned about spoilers, however, please skip the next three paragraphs.

[spoiler paragraph 1]  After he has invited Jeanne to join him at the family estate in Sicily, but before she arrives, Giusseppe dies. Just how isn’t explained. Anna had not been told that Jeanne was coming, but when she does, Anna decides not to tell her the bad news right away. Initially, Anna says nothing at all to explain Giuseppi’s absence, but the next day she indicates that he had to leave for awhile but would be home in a few days. Later still, she adds that he’ll be back by Easter (two or three days off), but this exchange occurs off camera. So Jeanne has to cool her heels, waiting and waiting.

[spoiler paragraph 2]  Along the way, we watch Anna quietly mourning her son and contemplating … what? Presumably her loss, her loneliness, how her son died, what to say to Jeanne. I’m guessing – we don’t know what she is thinking. We just see a seties of what would be interminable shots of Binoche, sometimes in close up, sometimes at a distance framed by her empty house, staring off into the distance – images that are interesting only because it’s Binoche. She is endlessly interesting to watch, even if we know nothing about her character, as is the case here.

[spoiler paragraph 3]  Jeanne repeatedly calls her boyfriend’s cell number leaving plaintive messages for him, takes some walks, swims in the lake (where she meets and lightly flirts with a couple of local fellows), and has a few desultory conversations with Anna. A tenuous connection between the two begins to form, despite and coincident with the veil of tension and unease created by Anna’s dishonesty. Eventually, Anna sits Jeanne down and tells her that the reason Giuseppi isn’t there is that he is dumping Jeanne, wants nothing to do with her, and will not return until she leaves. Jeanne is devastated, even as she realizes that this can’t be true – it makes absolutely no sense at all. When, a short while later Jeanne realizes the real truth, there is a mournful, condoling, tearful hug, and the picture is over.  

For an hour and forty minutes we have waited for the story to get filled in, for some telling detail, some background, some character development, some answers.  But, the wait is in vain. Outside of the circumstance that Anna is wealthy, widowed and now suffering a terrible new loss, we know nothing about her. We know even less about Jeanne. Anna’s rationale for not telling Jeanne about Giuseppe continues to be an intriguing question for awhile, one upon which viewers are supposed to speculate, I suppose; but an explanation or justification is never provided. Her cruel lie to Jeanne near the end makes even less sense. Eventually we simply lose patience with the movie.

In the near total absence of plot, context or character, there’s ultimately nothing to grab onto. The fact that the film looks good only goes so far. Binoche and de Laâge give lovely performances, individually and together, within the constraints of the screenplay, but fine acting can’t overcome this movie’s larger deficiencies.

Messina’s ostensible aim in making L’attesa is the real mystery. I presume that he conceived of the picture as an exploration of sorrow and grief through the use of mood and tone. But grief is not really explored in L’attesa. It is depicted, which is not at all the same thing. Even the depiction is pretty one dimensional - mostly of a reserved, introspective, quiet variety. There’s no wailing, no rending of clothes, pounding of chests, or the like - just a few private tears, and the meditative, doleful, unfocussed staring by Anna. There’s nothing wrong with that, but over an extended period it’s pretty dull to watch. This is not to say that Anna’s grief appears false or fake. Binoche doesn’t do phony. In Jeanne’s case, when eventually she figures out what’s happened and that Anna has been lying to her for days, you’d expect anger, but instead she seems just as taciturn as Anna in her sorrow. In all events, there’s little contrast between the two women other than their ages: they seem of similar temperament, which removes another opportunity for tension and thus for the audience to be interested.  

It has been suggested that an important theme of this film is faith. I don’t buy it.  True, the movie opens with an image of a crucifix on a wall, and all the “action” occurs in the days leading up to Easter - there’s even an Easter celebration which Anna attends on the last evening, in which Christian iconography appears – Jesus on the cross, Madonna and child, etc. Other than by her attendance at the parade, neither Anna nor anyone around her says or does anything that suggests, much less reveals that her faith, if any, is deep and/or has had any effect on her behavior. Sure, there’s the obvious Mary-Jesus analogy, but without any other context, that gets us nowhere, particularly since we know absolutely nothing about Giuseppe.

For myself, I wanted to like L’attessa, and I stuck with it for its one hundred minutes, but it was an effort, one that was not rewarded by the end. See it for Binoche, if you will, but don’t expect a meaningful experience.  

100 Minutes                                In Italian and French, Subtitled.

Grade: C+

Streams free on Amazon Prime (for Prime members) and Kanopy; also to rent on many platforms, including Amazon, Vudu and others

Monday, May 16, 2016

Sing Street (2016): RockNRoll Fantasy



Looking for an appealing movie with a pick-me-up ending? A little romance fueled by youthful rocknroll. perhaps?  The new teen movie, Sing Street, is a variant of the classic “Let’s start a band” story, set in Dublin in 1985. This particular version delivers, for the most part. It may be aimed at the young, but I found it fun and invigorating, and I’m not in that demographic (not even close).  It's not quite a classic like The Commitments (1991), yet this movie has its pleasures, including some surprisingly nifty music. Sing Street was written and directed by John Carney, whose previous pictures include the marvelous Once (2007) and the lovely Begin Again (2013), so this should not come as a surprise.

The story is about a boy named Conor, who is forced by circumstances to make some life changing decisions. He’s 15, which is bad enough.  Things are increasingly miserable at home - his  family’s finances have gone to hell; his live-at-home older brother is a college dropout, unemployed, discontented, smoking weed in his room, listening to a treasury of rock albums; his unhappy parents are struggling to make ends meet, quarrelling constantly,  and paying so little attention to Conor, he feels they don’t understand him or care. Their money issues have forced Conor’s transfer from a toney, academic school to a more affordable, but much rougher place (Synge Street Christian Brothers School), where priests rule and emphasize obedience over learning, a place where Conor knows no one, gets bullied by assholes and feels like a misfit. His world has become a dark place.   

The clouds start to lift when young Conor meets a girl –  intimidatingly pretty, sophisticated, certainly out of his league, but oh so desirable. Her name is Raphina (Lucy Boynton) and she’s a model, she says. He tells her he’s in a band, and asks if she’d like to be in a video they’re making. To his surprise and delight, she agrees.The only problem: Conor doesn’t have a band.  Duly motivated, however, he sets about forming one, and his story takes off.


It’s tempting to suggest that Sing Street, taken together with Once and Begin Again, form a kind of trilogy for writer/director Carney, as all three movies are about young people whose lives are transformed by, and in the process of making, music. The difference is that the protagonists of the earlier movies were musicians in their twenties, with some tough life experience under their belts, struggling to find success in the music biz, and finding themselves (and love) in the process. In Sing Street, on the other hand, Conor, is both very young and quite innocent when we meet him. His band (called Sing Street, after the school) starts out as but a means to an end: that being to impress Raphina. In the process, however, Conor (now known as Cosmo) and his mates get caught up in the power of their rock and roll creations, gain confidence in themselves and, well, grow up.  

Carney’s work reminds me a bit of Richard Curtis (writer of Four Weddings and A Funeral, Love Actually, Notting Hill, and other love-centric movies), because this guy truly believes in the enchantment of romance and the power of pop music to express it. His movies are exhilarating and sweet. For Carney, as with Curtis, falling in love grants us a renewed youthful innocence, it’s a state of grace. In Cosmo’s case this is his first love and the innocence of his desire is palpable. There’s nothing carnal about it, he wants to hold Raphina, to kiss her lips, to be with her.   As in the Beatles’ “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.”

In Sing Street, Carney is aided greatly by his lead actor, Ferdia Walsh-Peelo.  This kid is quite a find. Sometimes he looks like the adolescent he is, at other times like the young rock star he’s trying to be.  His charisma and earnest enthusiasm make him quite watchable. Walsh-Peelo and the music (penned by Carney) carry the movie. The tunes are catchy and the teen-specific lyrics (“I gotta find out who I’m meant to be; I don’t believe in destiny”) appropriately relate to the narrative. Along the way, we watch Cosmo trying on different mid-eighties rock looks, the big hair and eye makeup of The Cure’s Robert Smith for example, as he and his mates search for their own identities.

The other band members are also good, especially Darren (Ben Carolan), another outsider, who becomes Conor/Cosmo’s first friend at school and then the band’s manager/publicist; and Eamon (Mark McKenna), a multically talented acquaintance of Darren, who becomes Cosmo’s songwriting partner. Jack Reynor (Macbeth [2015]) is memorable as Conor’s troubled older brother Brendan, his musical muse and philosophical mentor.  Lucy Boynton, another newcomer,  does a nice job as Raphina, although the role is underdeveloped. Aiden Gillen (Game of Thrones) is Conor’s dad and, in a cool bit of casting, Maria Doyle Kennedy (who was Natalie, one of the back-up singers in The Commitments) is his mom.

One could pick some nits with the picture – Boynton, nearly six years older than Walsh-Peelo, is too old for the part and for him, the band comes together way too easily, etc. – but at its core,Sing Street is a likeable fantasy. It’s a world where race does not matter, humble origins do not matter, and if you really want it, if you try hard, if you believe, just clap your hands: and not only will Tinker Bell live, but you can get instruments, amplifiers, and cool clothes; you’ll quickly be musically proficient, original tunes and meaningful lyrics will flow forth - in short, you will succeed. This is reassuring and very sweet, which is why we eat it up.


I did, anyway.

106 minutes.

In wide release.