My current appreciation
for everything French, as well as being halfway to achieving A1 level
in la langue française (yeah, pathetic, I know) has led me to a point
where I spend every Sunday watching a film of French production.
However, this
recently discovered obsession of mine has nothing to do with this
post – at least, this is what I would like you to think.
The concept of auteur
cinema, culturally exceptional, art-house film is something the
French had implemented right after the World War II and what made
them famous. For me, among the list of other arguable important
virtues, these are the films that are shamelessly bold and audacious.
Films that talk sex and money, and power, and politics, and suicide
in the way there are a lot for the viewer to look for between the
lines. Paradoxically, women in French cinema do not wear makeup in
the morning and look stunning in their natural gorgeousness.
Paradoxically, a film of two actors and one location does not fail to
catch our attention.
Unbelievably, a past Broadway success, ex-classical novel turned into a script outshines any rich and fat, every single breath on screen carefully planned by financial advisers, hair dyed one-hundred times to reach a perfect hue films.
Roman Polanski's La
Vénus à
la fourrure might
not have that Palme d'Or thing but it certainly has something
absolutely worth your evening.
In the end of his tiresome day a middle-aged director is exasperated to the max been auditioning allegedly talentless actresses for the role of Venus in a play based on the Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's novel Venus in Furs. When Vanda Jordan arrives late behind our eyes unrolls a scene of a powerplay between a director and an actress, a man and a woman, a master and a slave who are constantly changing places, the suspense is built so fast that you might lose a track.
In the end of his tiresome day a middle-aged director is exasperated to the max been auditioning allegedly talentless actresses for the role of Venus in a play based on the Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's novel Venus in Furs. When Vanda Jordan arrives late behind our eyes unrolls a scene of a powerplay between a director and an actress, a man and a woman, a master and a slave who are constantly changing places, the suspense is built so fast that you might lose a track.
But do not expect to see some 50 Shades of Grey twin brother there: Venus in Fur may seem a sado-maso porn as Vanda notes in one of the dialogues with her male counterpart, but in fact, not only it is smart but it is actually the acting that makes it mandatory watching for any cinephile. It is all about how these two bring their pervertedly extraordinary characters to life with theatrical brilliance.
Directed by Roman Polanski
Starring Emmanuelle Seigner, Mathieu Amalric
Starring Emmanuelle Seigner, Mathieu Amalric
