Viewed this with the wife a couple of days ago, and it truly caught me by surprise. Whimsical, silly, fantastical, heartbreaking, glorious, honest and joyful, Paris Je T’aime is a delight. At two hours these eighteen short films/vingettes (each shot in a separate arondissement) almost beg to be watched on DVD, but there is something to be said for seeing them all at once as there is only a couple of duds (surprisingly, Alphonso Cuaron turns in a particularly banal sequence), a number of enjoyable throwaways (often built around a comic anagnorisis), and many true gems.
My favorites included the Coen Brothers’ droll comedy on the dangers of eye contact in the Metro, Nobuhiro Suwa’s moving story of a grieving mother who longs to see her child one last time (and the mythic American cowboy who somehow makes it happen), Christopher Doyle’s fantastically surreal ode to Paris’ Chinatown, South African director Oliver Schmitz’ compelling tale of the death of an African immigrant in the Place des Fêtes, Tom Twyker’s exuberantly electric examination of performance and paranoia centering on an American actress (Natalie Portman) and the young blind man she loves, Wes Craven’s wry deconstruction of a soon-to-be married British couple who receive a few lessons in amour from Oscar Wilde (played by Alexander Payne) at the Pere Lachaise, and, finally, Payne’s masterful concluding episode, which initially seems to mock a lonely American tourist but develops into something extraordinarily poignant and climatic (it is amazing how Payne accomplishes in seven minutes what he was unable to achieve in the 125 minute About Schmidt).
Though Paris appears to be the glue that holds everything together, there is also some thematic continuity in many of the sequences as the filmmakers explore the differences between performing roles and being oneself (and the fuzzy boundaries in between). There are many playful and thought provoking moments of self-reflexivity (a sequence with Bob Hoskins and Fanny Ardant and another with Ben Gazzara and Gena Rowlands are particularly entertaining).
i had anagnorisis once–let me tell you, there was nothing comic about it.
I was waiting for that!
I would also plug this film, for its really lovely high points–Payne, Schmitz, Tykwer, Coens. I thought Walter Salles/Daniela Thomas’ minimalist study of a domestic worker also quite fine.
But I was so enormously annoyed by a few, and bored by a few more, that the experience was pretty trying. The nice thing about dvd–watch and judge for yourself, and if you’re bored, skip ahead. If I’d been a bit more judiciously dismissive, I’d have pared down the dragging two-hours’ time to a lean, wonderful hour. (In the theater, I’d have said skip this–at home, I think there’s plenty to love, but keep the thumb on the chapter-jump.)
And I gotta disagree about a couple of your favorites–pretty much all the stories about “love” drove me friggin’ batty, Tykwer the exception, and Isabel Coixet getting a near-miss with her piece. Despite Hoskins, Ardant, Sewell, Mortimer, Gazzara, Rowlands, etc…. when a couple emerged, I felt the insulin in my system shrieking in dismay.
Yes, blood, guts, gore, wham and bang . . . but stories about love . . . meh. Who needs it! Come on, you had to dig the Doyle contribution! Still, I agree with you; at home I probably would have rushed through a few of the entries but in the theatre I was forced to take it all in, with my wife who never goes to the movies with me. And it worked for both of us. She still wants to know if the boys in van Sant’s entry ever find each other.
I liked the Doyle; I didn’t know what was going on but it was fun to watch, playful. Van Sant’s… bah. I guess I really enjoy an *interesting* love story, and am far more generous with the uninteresting shoot-’em-ups–there’s no surprise left around my tastes at this point, is there?
But I can dig a love story–I’m not constitutionally averse to them. Betty Blue‘s up there in my pantheon, for god’s sake, and I’m on the record in love with Punch Drunk Love, too. I like my amour a bit more fou, maybe, and while this hit that mark occasionally (Tykwer), more often we got a lot of l’amour ennuyeux (Craven, Natali) I found a few flat fraisage, digging into my skull (LaGravenese, Cuaron, Depardieu). That mime thing did make me laugh once, with the words “Con de Mime” spraypainted on his door, and yes I am showing off, but mostly I wanted to punch the director.
Again, I do recommend this–but like many anthologies (filmed or printed), a mixed bag.
But then again I just saw Bee Movie with my kid and I’ll take arty whimsy over machine-tooled kidtertainment any day.
Too many words in that post I was unwilling to look up in the dictionary. And I’m with you; the three you mention that had “flat fraisage” were three of my least favorites. The Van Sant didn’t really take me anywhere (Nicola’s the one who enjoyed that) but I liked that it was little more than a throwaway and the comic twist in the end was playful without being cloying. Fou? Ah, but Alexander Payne’s entry . . . heaven (I know you liked it too, but it may be one of the best films I’ve seen all year).