Category: Subtitled

Torrid Beauty

Portrait of a Lady On Fire – 2019 – R

Set in the late 18th century on a remote windswept island off the coast of Brittany, this French-language film, released in France in 2019, tells the story of Marianne (Noémie Merlant), a beautiful young mainland artist commissioned to paint the portrait of equally beautiful young islander Héloïse (Adèle Haenel). Héloïse was called home from a convent to step into an arranged bride-to-be lineup because her older sister stepped off a cliff rather than be given away in matchmaker’s nuptials. Héloïse’s mother, La Comtesse (Valeria Golino) needs a portrait for the Milanese nobleman who is now considering marrying her second daughter. Ironically termed the Age of Enlightenment, marriages of the nobility in this era were finalized via life size painted portraits delivered for review to the potential suitor. Defiant, strong willed Héloïse isn’t having it. No portrait, no wedding. This is where Marianne comes in. No portrait, no commission. Rounding out the all female cast, a third young woman, Sophie (Luàna Bajrami), the house maid is befriended by Marianne and Héloïse and when Sophie gets pregnant, in solidarity they accompany her to the village to get an abortion.

Personal female power and choices are exercised despite living in an era of negligible to no options for women. The film’s powerful ending—of enduring yet unrequited love, contained in requisite yet intolerable cultural norms—is as understandable as it is unfathomable. The story’s resolution will linger long after you’ve left the theater. There is no tragedy here but there is an empty ache for more, more of what simply can’t be.

It’s not a spoiler to disclose that Marianne gets her commission, the mother-daughter arranged marriage plot is simply a period piece vehicle for the mysterious, erotic, forbidden fruit romance to emerge between Marianne and Héloïse. Their mutual attraction so sensual, so exquisitely luxurious that this love story is already mentioned as one of the best 100 movies of the decade, indeed a masterpiece.

The cinematography is beyond stunning with an intoxicating palate of colors framing every scene. Art and literature merge as readings from Ovid’s version of Orpheus and Eurydice foreshadow a poignant, heartbreaking exchange between the lesbian lovers. 

The music is electrifying, euphoric. The third movement of “Summer” from Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” plaintively ties together the hope and hopelessness of taboo love. A late night bonfire gathering of island women transcends into a haunting, masterful choral number of Latin chants, “fugere non possum,” “I cannot flee” and “Nos resurgemus,” “We rise.”

It’s a shame that France submitted Les Misérables for the Academy’s Best International Film category because  Writer/Director Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady On Fire would have certainly challenged Parasite for Best Picture. Aside from a few jarring male appearances, the cast consists entirely of women and was written, directed and filmed by women. Nos resurgemus. We rise.

What’s that Smell?

Parasite – 2019


Just when I’d relax and settle into a genre comfort zone, this Korean film would change gears until by the final shift into overdrive I was convinced I’d exit the theater with whiplash. Caught in the wildly unpredictable intersection of two South Korean families, we flow, over 132 roller coaster minutes, from slice of life satire to laugh out loud comedy to murder mystery to thriller to horror. We first meet the Kim family: former Olympian medalist, no-nonsense mom, philosophic dad and their twenty-something children, a clever, jaded daughter and a cagey, articulate son. Together they live in a cramped subbasement with a single window opening to an alley frequented by urinating drunks. Cobbling together pay-as-you-go jobs, the destitute family of four assemble pizza boxes and post advertisement fliers but still can’t stretch their collective earnings to prevent cellphone shutdown. I was instantly empathetic as they doggedly scramble about their tiny, cluttered basement quarters looking for an unprotected neighborhood wireless signal to hijack. Who amongst us can’t identify with the duress and agitation of no internet? I remember wandering around my backyard one blustery night during a power outage holding up my open laptop searching for a signal and happily tucking myself in the corner woodpile to draft off a neighbor’s service. We are won over by these Kims, a likable and resourceful pack, resigned to underclass status, not from lack of will or skill, but as victims of ravaging unemployment. Marked by a distinct working class odor from subway travel and basement travails, let’s call them “down but not out.”

      Next up, their polar economic opposites, the Park family: fashionable, fretting mom, high tech dad, preening adolescent daughter and hyperkinetic young son. This family of four live in 1% luxury, their home a gated modern mansion of renown architectural pedigree, tended by a chirpy Brady Bunch Alice-type maid and chauffeured in a top of the line classic black Mercedes-Benz. We common folk cruise along voyeur-like momentarily drinking in the fascinating lifestyle of fame and fortune. As most of us are interlopers to the decadence spawned by riches, the Park family are never in danger of generating empathy, but neither do they stir antipathy. A family of nouveau wealth, deemed “of course” entitled to  servants, they deflect lurking presumptions of elitism by pointing out that they pay their staff more than the market rate. Call them “nice.”

      From the introductory phase of meet the Kims, greet the Parks, the plot flirts with a quasi Prince and Pauper remix, here a twist, there a turn, here a sting, there a caper. Out with the old (the Park support staff), in with the new (the Kim conniving crew). We enjoy the antics of the two families bizarrely blended by means and needs, schemes and scams. It’s a fun frolic! Then ominous storm clouds roll in, thunder booming as the Park’s original merry maid stages a dramatic return, throwing a lighting bolt of double dealing deception causing the walls of hoax and trickery to come a-tumbling down. It’s not fun anymore. It’s frightening and vicious. The once comedic clash between social classes turns into a literal flood of ugly, cruel, vindictive and murderous rage. Suddenly, I’m watching a cinematic detonation, the black comedy explodes into thriller, then slasher, splaying the complex social, cultural and economic layers wide open, leveling the playing field of the haves and the have nots in an astonishing, jaw-dropping finalé. Don’t let anyone persuade you that Parasite represents a societal showdown between good and evil. This film noses around in all the nuanced gray areas, exploring and ultimately unleashing the pent up human dynamics of hope and despair, greed and want, power and pain. This creative, complicated, masterfully orchestrated film will be a hands down Oscar contender—and, if Academy voters can look past subtitles, Parasite will rack up recognition well beyond the Foreign Language category. It may not stick around very long so best see it soon. It’s (wink, wink) a peach!!