I Got, Rhythm!: An American In Paris (1951)

Often times when I am encountering films it proves to be a singular scene of misguidance and ill-conceived execution that cause me to dismiss a work entirely.  This is often frustrating as it proves to come in the closing moments of a film and make everything that has occurred previously moot and irrelevant.  My most notable case of this problem occurs in Ben Affleck's The Town, an exceptionally well made film up to the point of its awful ending.  In contrast there are the occasions when the execution of a film is less than stellar, particularly in comparison to the actors and directors involved leading to a certain degree of tuning out on the part of the viewer, who is hoping for equal excitement as to their other works.  All but turned off to the film, the closing segments of the film take such a dramatic switch as to become wholly engaging and captivating in a way that only occurs with the most focused and concerted efforts.  An American In Paris absolutely falls within the latter, proving to be a work that is lesser than Vincente Minnelli's Meet Me In St. Louis, as well as not possessing the captive qualities from Gene Kelly that make Singin' In The Rain a masterpiece in cinema.  Indeed, I was quite upset with An American In Paris, not because it was bad by any stretch of the imagination, but because it had moments that pulled from the previously mentioned films, as well as attaining a few moments of choreography on par with The Red Shoes and never seemed to push to coalesce them together.  I was upset, that is, until they did move together rather brilliantly in the final section of the film an extended and thrilling dance number whose sense of scope necessitates not only an enormous soundstage, but also a movement through filmic temporal space with clever cuts and edits that make the magic of Paris come to live both in a historical understanding of the city, as well as a loving eye of the filmmaker.  In terms of Americans abroad in film, this work is quite prolific, cowering only to the likes of The Third Man and a few other significant films.  It is no Singin' In The Rain, but, to be fair, most films pale in comparison anyway.

An American In Paris centers on three artists in Paris, the first is the World War II veteran Jerry Mulligan (Gene Kelly) who has taken to the tenement lifestyle as he struggles to make it as a painter of various Parisian landmarks.   Jerry's friends include the concert pianist Adam Cook (Oscar Levant) who has been living in the space of Paris on various artist grants for nearly half a decade, only managing to stay financially above water with the help of his friend and night club singer Henri Baurel (Georges Guétary).  After hearing from Henri about an attractive young woman, Jerry takes to the streets to attempt to sell his work, scoffing at the various American college girls abroad and their misguided attempts to overanalyze the various artwork on display, including his own.  Yet, when Jerry is approached by a wealthy woman named Milo Roberts (Nina Foch) who buys his work on the spot he becomes somewhat suspicious of her intentions.  This hesitation is verified later, when Milo admits to wanting to use the guise of helping Jerry as an artist to attain his affection, also admitting to finding him incredibly attractive.  Jerry is despondent, thinking this is far from where he wanted to be as an established artist and travels to an art show at a Parisian nightclub to sulk.  It is at this point that Jerry notices the beguiling Lise Bouvier (Leslie Caron) who he takes an instant liking to, finding her absolutely stunning and attempts to pull her away from her various gentlemen.  While Lise is initially confused and a bit taken aback, she eventually falls to Jerry's charm and agrees to go on a date with him.  Jerry is given a gallery open by the still infatuated Milo, although upon her realization that he has taken a new romantic interest in Lise, she begins to recoil, only furthered by the insistence on the part of Jerry that he be afforded an opportunity to establish himself as an artist on his own.  Jerry's world is made all the more frustrating when it is revealed that he is pursuing the very same girl that Henri had spoken of at the beginning of the film.  After a series of seemingly misguided daydreams, Jerry and Lise are able to reunite, all to the perfect swell of a Gershwin composition.

I rarely approach things from a formalist standpoint, because it is a slippery slope I do not care to become heavily involved with.  Indeed, understanding how things are executed within films while incredibly important, does tend to take the magic out of the enjoyment, as is the case for Days of Heaven a film which possesses an absolutely captivating scene that has been deconstructed multiple times, leading me to hesitate actually viewing the film as I know it will invariably lack in the magic that occurs.  In the same vein, I actively avoid researching the special effects execution at play in 2001: A Space Odyssey because to do so would almost certainly assure that it loses some of its inconceivable execution, or perhaps not, because that film still manages to exist in an impossible film world regardless.  As such, I want to merely touch on some of the elements that make that final scene in An American in Paris so exception.  Primarily, it occurs as a result of the mixture between the fabricated and the real, there is a seen where Kelly and Caron flutter from one set to another, the space starting as clearly impressionist sets, to somewhat more realist sets and ultimately resting in the space of a stage where actual dancers and actors occupy the table.  The actors remain frozen though as to allow for a remaining temporal space that seems surreal, but still exists within a rather simply executed cinematic trick.  This holds true for the use of space during this sixteen minute ballet sequence, wherein it seems to extend and evolve continually never resting on a single fixed area.  Much of this is afforded through a crane that is panning and moving without cutting, therefore, moving sets and shifting dancers can be done in a small space, but still without being noticed in the diegetic space.  Of course, this is still a feat of precision and some editing does allow it to work smoothly.  Even then, there are still inconceivable scenes of cinematic magic, the most notable one being the closing of the sequence when Gene Kelly moves from being a superimposed image over a backdrop to fading into frame while the background dissolves.  It is absolutely stunning.

Key Scene:  Refer to the paragraph above.

Bluray should be an obvious choice in this regard.

You Are Now A Woman And An Attractive One: Les Bonnes Femmes (1960)

I will fully admit that when I began this planned month of women related films, I did not expect to find myself focusing on anything centered directly within The French New Wave, considering its problematic relationship with women, however, at the same time, I had yet to really engage with the veritable third man of the movement, Claude Chabrol, aside from his various stints as cinematographer for other directors.  I am certainly glad, however, that I decided to pick this film to view, because not only does it possess all of the cinematic elegance and hip charm of a piece of cinema from the era, it also happens to do an excellent job of considering issues of feminine and masculine divides within the Parisian youthful society of the early sixties, not to mention fully reminding viewers of how troublesome male privilege was in their ability to move both vertically and horizontally within an assumedly expanding and progressing social landscape.  It is a film that is seemingly episodic, yet focusing on one character specifically it allows for a narrative to center on the evolving issues for a woman navigating the world in which she is incessantly and problematically objectified, even by those she assumes to be actively aiding her freedom.  I was initially dismissive of a handful of the visual metaphors incorporated within the films as I thought them to be a bit on the nose, yet when I reminded myself that the moments were mostly shot in a improvisation and on the set manner, not to mention the fact that it was created some fifty years ago, made me appreciate their seeming obviousness as absolutely brilliant.  Often with some of the earlier films in the New Wave, one finds a pause for concern when at least one of the elements is lacking, in most cases it was the presence of amateur actors, attempting to deliver deeply introspective and profoundly philosophical statements.  In the case of Les Bonnes Femmes everything merges together brilliantly and the film is impossible to turn away from, proving to be sexy, evocative and evidence of everything one should love and embrace about one of cinema's most important historical movements.

Les Bonnes Femmes, as a title suffers from a problematic series of translations, some suggesting it to be Good Time Girls, while others simply consider it to be Good Girls, neither appropriately grasping the film, which does, at the very least focus on girls who work in a shop, more importantly considering their experiences as they move through the culture of 1960's Paris.  One girl, in particular, Jane (Bernadette LaFont) finds herself particularly tied to the culture, considering that every man she encounters seem completely infatuated with her, whether it be two awkward, yet persistent, old men, or a shop owner whose economic position of power affords him a belief that he can make uncomfortable sexual advances on his employees, particularly Jane, who he believes to be exceptionally good looking.  Jane seems rather capable of navigating between these varied, yet troublesome individuals, however, when she realizes that she is being stalked by a mustached man her senses on the situations changes considerably, moving from shock at its occurrence to a curiosity and eventual desire for his presence.  After several less than stellar engagements with her friends, ending with a mildly violent altercation with some men she met earlier at an indoor pool, Jane's mustached pursuer finally makes his presence known, much to Jane's elation.  The two end up getting food together the following day and Jane completely falls for the charms of the man, particularly his minor magic tricks.  The man is reluctant to confess similar feeling towards Jane and eventually persuades her to take a hike with him on a rural area outside of Paris, during this trip he chokes her to death and leaves in a hurry.  The closing scenes move to what appears to be Jane at a dance hall as she stars vacantly into the glimmering lights of a disco ball, perhaps never experiencing any of the turmoil mentioned in the sentences above, but just imagining it all occurring.

Regardless of whether or not the film was an internalized experience is irrelevant to how I see the film critically, especially since Chabrol seems particularly concerned with depicting the very real oppressions faced by women, particularly young women of this era in France.  Firstly, Les Bonnes Femmes makes it very clear that the masculine problematically objectifies the feminine and is allowed to do so within the public setting, based solely on the assumption that these women chose to expose themselves to such situations, very little is made about the degrading and disrespectful elements to such actions narratively, but, undoubtedly, intentional on the part of Chabrol, who even shows that these women can not avoid being chastised within their work settings, a fact, that is extended even when considering that their jobs are predicated on their attractiveness.  A dismissive viewer might imagine that the events depicted are intended to be a bit of fun and games, however, the unbearably long scene of Jane being pushed underwater by two aging men, reminds viewers that these earnest games can become violently real and turn dark in only seconds, especially since it is made rather clear that were Jane to be dunked underwater one or two more times, without being saved by her admirer, would have likely resulted in her death.  Of course, very little needs to be said about the death of Jane, its violent masculine act is critically somewhat straightforward, only made problematic by the following suggestion that it may have been a dream sequence.  However, the notion that Jane is so disillusioned and troubled by her present situation that she seeks to find a means to end herself in the imaginative speaks to issues that were and would continue to be problems for women in the sixties an onward.

Key Scene:  For being  a shot on location element, the zoo scene is rather exceptional.

This is a Watch Instantly option, but after watching it I think the crispness of a DVD, may well be the better alternative.