Review: "Colette"

At first blush “Colette” sounds like a retread of the recent wonderful film “The Wife” starring Glenn Close as the wife of a Nobel-winning author who (spoiler alert) actually wrote all of his books.

But in fact “Colette” is more or less the original tale of a long-suffering woman creating great art under her husband’s name, and is based on the historical early life of arguably France’s most celebrated female writer.

Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette (Keira Knightley) was a simple country girl who married a famous Parisian author some years her senior, Henry Gauthier-Villars (Dominic West), known by his pen name, Willy.

It may seem shocking to us that writing could be published under another person’s name, but as the film makes clear, it was common practice in the late 1800s and early 1900s. (And, as I can personally attest, it still is.)

Willy was a publisher himself who kept a stable of writers working feverishly to crank out stuff under the Willy brand -- generally salacious romances for high-society types. When their finances grow slim and he cannot afford to pay his ghost writers, Willy suggests that Gabrielle dash something off.

Her novel, “Claudine at School,” becomes an overnight sensation, detailing the lascivious thoughts and practices of a 15-year-old schoolgirl from provincial Burgundy. More books followed, chronicling the character’s rise to the Parisian salons and increasingly volatile romances. Willy and Colette become the toast of Paris, until the inevitable resentment over his assuming authorship of the books comes to loggerheads.

West is blowsy and self-pitying as the libertine Willy, suit vests barely able to contain an ample belly, a gray squiggle of goatee dancing off the end of his chin. He’s like a well-meaning but incorrigible walrus who always promises not to steal all the fish, but gives in to his appetites every time.

For him, this means basking in the attention of the French literary world, as well as the attendant feminine attention for a purveyor of socially acceptable smut.

At first decimated by his cheating, Gabrielle soon finds herself indulging her own romantic interests with other women -- with Willy’s blessing and urging. An early affair with a wealthy American socialite (Eleanor Tomlinson) becomes a public sensation, as both Gabrielle and Willy trade turns under her sheets. This provides more fodder for the next novel, of course.

This is where the movie is at its best, exploring how a provincial girl morphs into a worldly woman testing the boundaries of social constraint. Knightley -- who seems not to have aged a line since breaking out 15 years ago -- lets us feel Gabrielle’s surging passions and how they translated into art.

She and Willy enjoy a love/hate relationship, not exactly abusive but certainly controlling. He actually locks her in a room and forces her to write. As time goes on, she casts off more of his yoke, particularly via her long-term relationship with Mathilde de Morny (Denise Gough), a renowned noblewoman who dressed in suits and essentially lived as a man.

It’s almost as if Gabrielle dreamed up a parallel universe of affairs and scandal at Willy’s suggestion, and then they were determined to live out this shared fantasy.

The latter third of “Colette” loses a lot of narrative steam, eventually devolving into what seems like a series of naughty vignettes with little connective tissue between them. New lovers come and go like a theatrical parade.

Gabrielle’s marriage to Willy essentially dissolved over the course of some years, the rights to the Claudine books were sold off and she lived at a near-poverty level, subsisting as a stage actress. Her greatest works -- under her own byline -- came later, including “Gigi,” which had its own cinematic adaptation.

Director Wash Westmoreland (“Still Alice”), who wrote the screenplay with Rebecca Lenkiewicz and Richard Glatzer, struggles (as many filmmakers do) with folding the messy, chaotic ends of a real life into a 1¾-hour movie. The result is an engaging biopic that loses steam.

By the way, I promise you I wrote this review myself, and did not force my wife to do it. Although who knows? Maybe she could’ve done a better job.

Review: "Disobedience"

“Disobedience” has a storyline that seems, at first, to be very familiar: prodigal child returns to the fold of the cloistered community they grew up in, and subsequently fled in disgrace, to find that things have not changed so very much. In this case, it’s Rachel Weisz as Ronit, who was raised in a strict Orthodox Jewish enclave in London, the only child of the revered Rav (Anton Lesser), the rabbinical leader of their kind.

Now a successful photographer, Ronit is coming home after years away -- I’m guessing around 20 -- because of the death of her father. In a powerful opening sequence, he crumples to the floor of the synagogue while delivering a passionate lesson on free will.

Her reappearance is greeted with something between tolerance and disdain. From the moment she locks eyes with Dovid (Alessandro Nivola), a youngish rabbi, we know there is great history between them. We start to read things into the story: they had a torrid affair, which perhaps caused the schism with her father, who was Dovid’s teacher and he the old man’s star pupil.

Ronit is somewhat shocked to learn that Dovid has married her childhood best friend, Esti (Rachel McAdams). But they seem happy, or at least content, and after agreeing to stay in their house, Ronit learns to accept the situation for what it is. Or at least what we think it is.

It’s another knockout performance by Weisz, who’s been wowing in smaller films for several years now. She might just have the best claim to the title of finest actress working movies today.

In virtually every scene we feel her tension, her resentment, knowing that she is constantly being looked at, spoken about, judged. It’s apparent Ronit was never formally shunned, but clearly everyone views her as the black sheep. She’s crushed when the Rav’s obituary lists him as childless.

Based upon the novel by Naomi Alderman, “Disobedience” was directed by Sebastián Lelio, who also co-wrote the screenplay with Rebecca Lenkiewicz. Like Lelio’s previous effort, the Oscar-winning “A Fantastic Woman,” this is the tale of a woman who has been relegated as an outsider, resenting this status but also thirsting to be accepted for who she is.

It’s a quietly observant movie that soaks us in the culture of strict British Judaism. For instance, Ronit’s uncle (Allan Corduner) makes his business in women’s wigs. Married women in their sect traditionally cover their hair like Muslims, though they use wigs rather than scarves. The idea is that only her husband is allowed to see her natural hair -- a form of intimacy that ventures disturbingly close to subjugation.

McAdams is very good, too, in an emotionally complex role in which Esti experiences as much turmoil as Ronit, and more intensely so.

As it turns out (spoiler warning), Ronit’s forbidden teenage romance was not with Dovid, but with Esti. Esti is forced to resolve her reawakened feelings, after having spent years trying to adhere to the role of the good Jewish wife. The two actresses’ sex scenes are astonishingly emotional, raw and erotic, despite displaying very little flesh. In contrast, Esti is often nude in Dovid’s presence, but their interactions are virtually sexless.

I was also impressed in Dovid’s portrayal. Most movies of this sort would be eager to pigeonhole him as the villain, and indeed he does not react well upon realizing what is going on underneath his own roof. Dovid is in line to succeed the Rav, so he must face a crisis of conscious of his own as a husband, a spiritual leader and a man living in a patriarchal society that demands he keep his “house in good order.”

Every one of us faces a point in life where we must decide if we are to live according to other’s expectations for us, or our own. “Disobedience” is a fine, insightful film that shows how this choice not so easy or conclusive as we might think.

Video review: "Ida"

What if everything you thought you knew about yourself turned out not to be true? That’s the premise of “Ida,” a spare Polish drama set in 1960.

Anna (Agata Trzebuchowska) is a prim young woman about to take her vows as a nun. But the mother superior insists that Anna, an orphan, visit with her only living family member before committing to a life wearing a habit.

The relative, an aunt named Wanda (Agata Kulesza) who has refused all contact with her, is a bitter drunk who sleeps around prodigiously and wallows in her glory days as a prosecutor for the communist insurgency that now rules the land. She reveals to Anna that she is actually Jewish, her real name is Ida, and her family was murdered by locals as an appeasement to the Nazis.

They spend the next few days riding back to their roots, talking to people and trying to reveal the truth.

Trzebuchowska is a luminous presence, a seemingly meek woman who has deep reserves of boldness and curiosity. During her journey she finds out much about the world, and questions her place in it.

Shot in stark, hauntingly lovely black-and-white by director Pawel Pawlikowski and crew, “Ida” is sad and beautiful cinema.

Bonus features include a behind-the-scenes featurettes, on the set interviews and a Q&A with Pawlikowski and Sara Freeman.

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Review: "Ida"

We don't get to see a lot of Polish movies in most of America, so "Ida" is a welcome break from the usual stream of French, Danish and German fare. Director Pawel Pawlikowski ("My Summer of Love"), who also co-wrote it with Rebecca Lenkiewicz, delivers a film of spareness and stillness in which emotions are kept tamped down.

And yet, because the characters strive so hard to keep their fears and passions hidden, that only lends them that much more power.

Shot in elegant black-and-white -- almost every frame is a work of art -- the story is set in 1960, as a now-Communist Poland still struggles to unbury itself from the horrors of World War II. Anna (Agata Trzebuchowska) is a novice nun about to take her vows.

Orphaned on the doorstep of a priest as a babe, she learns she has one living relative, an aunt who formerly was a judge and state prosecutor during the Stalinist regime, responsible for bringing Nazi collaborators to justice. The head nun insists Anna meet and reconcile with her before she
recedes into strict convent life forever. 

Trzebuchowska is a marvelous subject for the camera, with her leonine face and luminous eyes. She keeps her gaze downcast most of the time, whether out of primness or training, but when she looks up her eyes are probing and brave.

The aunt, Wanda (Agata Kulesza), turns out to be a mass of contradictions. An alcoholic who seems to have one-night stands with a parade of men most every night, she's at once a loner who seems desperate for company. She treats her newfound niece with disdain, responding candidly that she did not respond to all the letters from the orphanage because she simply didn't want to.


But she has a secret to tell: Anna's parents were Jews who were murdered, not by the Nazis but one of their fellow Poles. Her real name is Ida Lebenstein. Most everything Anna/Ida has thought about herself turns out to be untrue.

The two go on a quest to find out the truth about their family. They travel to their hometown and begin questioning locals and neighbors. Along the way they pick up a handsome saxaphone player (Dawid Ogrodnik), and Anna feels stirrings of her unexplored womanhood. Wanda openly encourages her to sleep with him, arguing that the vows she's about to take won't mean anything if she doesn't know what she'll be giving up.

More secrets are revealed that turn this sad story into one of soul-tearing tragedy. We learn more about Wanda and her own journey to a crossroads without turnings.

Some viewers may find "Ida" a little slow, but this is a beautiful story, beautifully told. These are tears you'll want to shed.