Pras on World Films: ELLES

Elles ImageAnne (Juliette Binoche), a Parisian journalist for Elle magazine, investigates on students prostitution. She met Alicja (Joanna Kulig), a busty blond from Poland. and Charlotte (Anais Demoustier), a girl-next-door type from the suburbs –  two students who moonlight as prostitutes in order to fund their university studies. Charlotte likes the extra cash; Alicja couldn’t afford to live in France without it.

Anne (Juliette Binoche), a Parisian journalist writing for the women's magazine Elle, interviews two university students moonlighting as prostitutes. She develops a sisterlike rapport with Charlotte (Anais Demoustier), a young woman from the Paris suburbs.

Anne’s revealing encounters with Charlotte and Alicja (Joanna Kulig) intersect with difficulties at home, leading her to question what she believes about her own relationships to family, money and sex. The girls envy her bourgeois stability while she comes to want their self-possessed freedom, though the lives of all three are shown to be not quite so clear-cut.

Elles movie posterAnne’s interviews with the two young women are presented in fragments, inserted into a few days of home life that test Anne’s domestic skills. Her younger son spends too much time playing video games; her older one is cutting classes and smoking pot. And her husband expects her to cook and host a gourmet dinner for his boss and his wife.

Elles is most remarkable as a naturalistic portrait of a woman. As an essay on women’s roles in society and cross-generational female desire, the film provides many questions with no easy answers. It’s tempting to call “Elles” some kind of thinking-person’s sex movie, but it’s more about thinking and about sex (and thinking about sex) and is far more likely to encourage awkward, emphatic conversation than post-show friskiness.

Charlotte (Anais Demoustier) – the fresh-faced college student working her way through school as “Lola,” a freelance escort for mostly middle-aged men – is shown during a physical encounter with a handsome man about her own age (Swann Arlaud). The liaison is hot, and surprisingly tender. The sex, which we’re initially meant to assume is with the boyfriend Charlotte has been telling Anne about, for once seems to be about more than an economic transaction – until even this guy pulls out a wad of cash and lays it on the bed. And that’s the point: to blur the line between desire and its more mercenary manifestations. But director Malgoska Szumowska (who co-wrote the provocative but frustrating film with Tine Byrckel) makes that point so often that all subtlety is lost. Sex, the filmmaker argues, is a commodity that women have, that men want and that women will exchange for what they really want, e.g., a bathroom with a view or expensive shoes. It’s not a very progressive idea, or an original one. All women are prostitutes, and all men are johns. Strip away the trappings of upscale bourgeois life, and a wife — even an upscale professional wife — is a household slave, expected to cook, clean and take care of the children. Her husband might deign to make love to her after she cooks a fancy dinner for his boss. All it takes for her to keep the peace is some well-timed flirtatious role-playing. But he has to initiate the amorous reward.

The women in “Elles” – whose title is the female form of the French pronoun “they” – are the eternal Other. It’s the men who hold the power and the purse strings in the world.

Parallels are repeatedly drawn between Anne’s husband (Louis-Do de Lencquesaing), who tells his wife to lay off all her “feminist” talk at a dinner party they’re hosting – and for which she has done all the cooking – and Charlotte’s and Alicja’s male clients, who also bark orders of their own: go faster, go slower and do things that can’t be described in a family newspaper. Anne observes that she isn’t even sure whether Charlotte and Alicja really are prostitutes – or at least any more than all women are, as she puts it.

It’s hardly a novel formulation — Luis Bunuel was here with lacerating wit back in 1967’s “Belle de Jour,” and dozens of movies and television shows have wrestled with some version of the notion. “Elles” is on its strongest ground when it obliquely depicts the ways society imprisons women in an emotional and financial reliance on men (whereas men just want sex and dinner and don’t care much where it comes from).

Binoche, is in one of her rawest performances since 1991’s The Lovers of the Pont Neuf.  Juliette Binoche gives a committed performance as a journalist investigating teenage prostitution, but the salacious treatment of the subject matter teeters on the edge of voyeurism. She proves why she is such a world-renowned actress with the way she conveys ideas flickering across her brow and flashing behind her eyes. That skill makes her especially adept at portraying a journalist sitting in front of a computer or padding about her nicely appointed apartment, trying to focus on work but letting her mind wander to the laundry or the dishes or assorted distracted reveries. Anne’s slightest mood swing registers as the deeply felt moment-to-moment experience of a woman whose daily life is portrayed as a series of small frustrations and humiliations (underscored by Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony).

The two student-age sex workers, played by Anaïs Demoustier and Joanna Kulig. Both are estimable young actors – Demoustier played the lead in the excellent French indie Living on Love Alone while Kulig appears alongside Ethan Hawke in the upcoming film The Woman in the Fifth.

CAST & CREDITS:

Anne                   Juliette Binoche
Charlotte             Anais Demoustier
Alicja                   Joanna Kulig

Kino Lorber presents a film Directed by Malgoska Szumowska; written by Tine Byrckel and Ms. Szumowska; director of photography, Michal Englert; edited by Françoise Tourmen and Jacek Drosio; art direction by Pauline Bourdon; costumes by Katarzyna Lewinska; produced by Marianne Slot; released by Kino Lorber. In French and Polish, with English subtitles. Running time: 96 minutes. Rated NC-17 (for explicit sexual content).

WITH: Juliette Binoche (Anne), Anaïs Demoustier (Charlotte), Joanna Kulig (Alicja), Louis-Do de Lencquesaing (Patrick), François Civil (Florent) , Pablo Beugnet (Stéphane) and Jean-Marie Binoche (Anne’s father).

In “Elles,” Juliette Binoche stars as a work-obsessed, discontented journalist. Her bourgeois life, presented mostly in a pristine Paris apartment and cloaked in muted shades of whites and grays, contrasts sharply with those of the subjects of her latest article, two female students who also work as prostitutes. Ms. Binoche’s character, Anne, is at first dismissive and shocked by their choices, but over the course of the film, which screens at the Tribeca Film Festival on Wednesday afternoon and opens in select theaters on Friday, finds they have fears, and desires, in common.

Though the movie’s casually graphic depiction of sex feels very French, “Elles” was actually made by a Polish director, Malgorzata Szumowska, who spent time with young prostitutes before shooting. The film aims to highlight the hypocrisy in a culture in which magazines use women’s bodies to sell objects alongside articles condemning women who sell their bodies to buy those objects. Ms. Binoche, who plans to work with Ms. Szumowska on another film, “Sisters,” talked to us by phone from Paris about prostitution, sex and Polish film. Here are edited excerpts from that conversation:

Q.Why did you want to be involved in “Elles”?
A.Well, I had heard about Malgorzata a few months before I met with her because I had had dinner with the [director of photography] on “Blue,” Slawomir Idziak, and I asked him, what is going on in Poland? You have good directors coming out. And he took a moment and said, “Malgorzata Szumowska, she’s the best.” I got a script from her like two months later. I read it quite quickly.
Q.What about it appealed to you?
A.I was interested in the way she wrote the script. There was no good on one side and bad on the other, you could see all the colors in everybody’s way of behaving and living. I liked that, and I was very surprised by the girls’ attitude. I was a little suspicious of it, too. You know, I couldn’t quite believe it. I met with her. I liked her. She has strong energy, and she’s quite straightforward and passionate, like a lot of Polish people are. I also think I had a sort of melancholic need to work with a Polish director again since Krzysztof Kieslowski [director of, among other things, “Blue,” starring Ms. Binoche].
Q.What sort of research did you do?
A.There was a documentary we watched during the writing of the script that the producer had put together. In order to have some real examples — some of the conversations were coming directly from what the girls were saying. Also, as a student, I had a girlfriend that was doing it. I didn’t really ask at the time, because I was shocked and wondering how it was possible to mix things up that much. Even though being a student is hard when you’re not helped by the state, or family and you have to survive.
Q.How else did you prepare?
A.Usually I love preparing. It’s really the time I prefer, because it’s a time of reflection and of possibility of growth — to let it cook inside. For this, I decided not to prepare in a funny way because I wanted to be insecure — so it gave me a sort of tension. In the work itself with Malgorzata, it was like flying with a friend. I felt very comfortable.
Q.Are we supposed to be a little surprised that these women may enjoy what they’re doing?
A.I think so, yes. Because you start from a point of view where my character is quite despising and above all this. She’s trying to analyze without wanting to get involved, and at a critical point, she has to let it go. And she feels quite close, in a stunning way, because, of course, the young girls are envying her kind of bourgeois achievement — the husband, the work, the children, the comfort, but, of course, it’s more complicated than that. And it’s not explained in the film, which I like, you have to look for your answers.

The motivation of those young girls is difficult to understand because from the outside, you think they want the luxury items or they’re so influenced by a society that shows that young girls must seduce, but the motivations are more hidden. In the documentary I saw, they would buy things, but they wouldn’t put them on. Because when you have it, you don’t want it anymore. It doesn’t give the satisfaction, but the need is still there and so what is that need? Why do they need to go see those middle-aged men? It’s related to a protection they’re looking for, and they can’t feel. There’s something in the structure of their heart that is not stable.

Q.In some of the scenes, for instance, when one of the men is crying, they offer each other a kind of comfort — they form a relationship.
A.That’s where it becomes complex because you can’t blame prostitution. Here’s humanity, but at the same, you’re selling your body for money? You can’t judge it. You can understand it and why you wouldn’t do it, but that’s what I love about acting is that you can’t judge. You have to understand the human root, and that makes you understand why you would be in that situation.
Q.Was it important to have a female director for a movie like this?
A.Yes and no. There’s a moment when you go into creation, it doesn’t matter, you’re more into where it goes and needs to go. I have to say, because I’m used to working with male directors, working with a woman, there was a new feeling I had which was related to something more personal, it felt like an auto-portrait at some moments. And so the responsibility of acting with a director of the same sex, it’s something of a mirroring feeling. Like I could feel like it cost her a lot to make this film. And it changed something in her life. And I felt like I was serving — it touched me but it didn’t change my life. Thinking about it, with a female director it brings something closer.
Q.Usually we see sex scenes from a male perspective. Was it different seeing it through the eyes of a woman? Were you thinking about that at all?
A.For example, the masturbation scene, she wrote it, and before shooting it, she said she was going to be in another room, and I said no, you come with me, near the camera, and we do it together. So you tell me all the stages you want to go through. It was a little unnerving and weird, but we have to take the responsibility of it all together.

Pras on World Films: CERTIFIED COPY

Certified Copy Image  “Certified Copy,” is an endless hall of mirrors whose reflections multiply as its story of a middle-aged couple driving through Tuscany carries them into a metaphysical labyrinth.The travelers are a beautiful, high-strung woman, identified only as Elle or She (Juliette Binoche), who runs an antiques shop in Arezzo, and a British author, James Miller (the operatic baritone William Shimell), whom she meets after he gives a lecture on his new book, “Certified Copy.” Shimell’s James Miller is a British art historian who shows up in Tuscany to lecture on his latest book, which is about the aesthetic blurriness between originals and copies.

Juliette Binoche

Elle, a single mother with a 10-year-old son, has eyes for James. After the lecture, the two drive in her car to the village of Lucignano and along the way debate aesthetics and begin to bicker. When they stop at a trattoria in Lucignano, the cafe owner assumes that they are a long-married couple and shares her traditional views of men, women and marriage. A statue in the village square of a woman serenely resting her head on a man’s shoulder is scrutinized for its fundamental truth about the sexes. After the meal, during which James has a hissy fit about the wine, he and Elle slowly fall into the roles the waitress has assigned them. By the time they visit a hotel in which Elle insists they spent their wedding night, you are uncertain whether they are collaborating in mutual playacting or if their initial meeting was actually a reunion after a long separation. If their 15-year “marriage” is just a facsimile, then the game they are playing, in which emotional darts are tossed, seems less and less frivolous.

Which is the real relationship, and which is the counterfeit? Were they a couple pretending to meet for the first time or a new couple pretending to be married? I believe that to begin with they are really meeting for the first time, and later they are really an established couple. Certainly, Binoche reacts with exasperation to James sometimes, but never asks about his own life or marital situation, and seems in her way quite as weirdly solipsistic as he is. An anecdote about the copy of Michelangelo’s David in Florence’s Piazza della Signoria leads to the pair discovering an extraordinary connection between them – which is never developed, nor mentioned again. The unreality caused by the characters never remarking on their role-play (strange for a stuffy Brit) never leaves the film.

Perhaps Kiarostami’s intention is to demonstrate how the reality is whatever the artist chooses, and that he can transfer from original art to a copy in midstream. Or perhaps that’s not possible.

Before the trattoria the main topic of conversation — authenticity in art — is a continuation of James’s lecture, during which Elle pointedly challenged his ideas. Artworks that were presumed to be originals and later found out to be forgeries are discussed. The debate leaps into a broader contemplation of art versus life. Isn’t the Mona Lisa a reproduction of its model? Why does an everyday object as depicted by Jasper Johns or Andy Warhol take on value when exhibited in a museum? Aren’t we all DNA “replicas” of our ancestors? What does it imply about art and reality that not one of the gorgeous cypress trees lining the road they travel is like any other? Does that make each an original work of art?

The unique innovation of this film, however, is that the more we watch, the less sure we are about the relationship we’re watching. Are these people two strangers discovering fascinating clashes and affinities, or have they known each other for years? Are they, in fact, husband and wife?  The conversation is rich, and the personal dynamic – between the cool, English academic and the earthy, somewhat scattered and voluble French woman – is arresting, in that there’s often some tension between them, a conversational offer that’s not reciprocated, or an idea that’s rejected. It’s curious that the movie is at its best when absolutely nothing is happening but two people having a conversation.

The voluptuous appeal of Lucignano, a village where young couples flock to marry in a local chapel, is lost on him. His first impulse is to sneer at the naïveté of newlyweds who believe that their happiness will never end. The place is a vibrant paradise of stunning architecture, ringing church bells and cooing pigeons; the scented, sun-drenched atmosphere overflows with romantic promise.

Shimell, an operatic baritone making an assured film debut, plays a British art critic, flogging the Italian translation of his recent book at a speaking appearance.James (Shimell) believes in the virtues of originality and says that a good copy of an artwork is as good as the original. (How he stretches that one idea into a whole book must be left to the imagination).

Binoche, as a French-born local shopkeeper, takes an interest in the reserved, prickly author and offers to show him around Tuscany – at least until it’s time for him to catch his train that evening. Ms. Binoche, whose performance won the Cannes Film Festival award for best actress last spring, humanizes the film and lends its theoretical substructure flesh and blood and emotional weight. For all her prickliness, Elle, who speaks fluent English, French and Italian, may be at home in the world of ideas but she is also a woman of deep feeling. She brings “Certified Copy” to intense, pulsing life.

Certified Copy has resemblances to other Kiarostami films: there are extended dialogue scenes in cars, and business with mobile phones indicating a breakdown in communication. He contrives an elegant sight gag for an ageing French tourist, played in cameo by the screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière, talking on his hands-free device. Only for a moment does Kiarostami display his most eccentric tic, cancelling the shot-reverse-shot convention by keeping the camera on the listener, not the speaker. It is as distinctive a mannerism as Ozu’s direct sightlines into camera – a style that Kiarostami employs when the two are talking to each other. Kiarostami may have absorbed other influences. Certified Copy has something of Rossellini’s Journey to Italy, and I wonder if he might even have been influenced by Woody Allen and Diane Keaton’s initial squabble in Manhattan about everything from Van Gogh to Heinrich Böll.

Certified Copy

Directed by Abbas Kiarostami; written by Mr. Kiarostami, adapted by Massoumeh Lahidji; director of photography, Luca Bigazzi; edited by Bahman Kiarostami; sets by Giancarlo Basili and Ludovica Ferrario; produced by Marin Karmitz, Nathanaël Karmitz, Charles Gillibert and Angelo Barbagallo; released by Sundance Selects. In Italian, French and English, with English subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 46 minutes. This film is not rated.

WITH: Juliette Binoche (Elle, or She), William Shimell (James Miller), Jean-Claude Carrière (the Man at the Square), Agathe Natanson (the Woman at the Square), Gianna Giachetti (the Cafe Owner), Adrian Moore (the Son), Angelo Barbagallo (the Interpreter), Andrea Laurenzi (the Guide), Filippo Troiano (the Bridegroom) and Manuela Balsimelli (the Bride).