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Les chansons d'amour and the kitchen sink

Friday night was the North American premiere of Christophe Honoré's Les chansons d'amour.

Cast member Chiara Mastroianni was in attendance and before the film she spoke of how quickly the film was executed -- primary filming was done in January, and the film had a formal release in France in May. She commented that this was a new kind of filmmaking, further expanding to say that all films could be released three months after filming if everyone in the process has the right motivation.

Interesting then that my first impression at the end of Les chansons d'amour was that it would have benefitted from a longer gestation.

At the same time, Honoré and co. are clearly aiming for something unexpected. There's an unconventional scenario centering around three twenty-somethings who are happily living together in a three-way relationship, and there's some stylistic experimentation, including several key scenes rendered through a series of black and white still images. The opening titles consist of nothing but last names in giant block letters on the screen -- sans job titles -- so one name might be an actor and the next the cinematographer or sound mixer... you have no idea which is which (until the closing credits, of course). This is intriguing because it puts everyone from the cast and crew on the same level.

And did I mention that the film is a musical?

While all this experimentation is enjoyably welcome, it quickly derails the film's inertia. The musical numbers often don't fit the mood, and at times feel like music videos dropped in the midst of a dramatic comedy.

Still, the acting is strong and the characters refuse to become caricatures. One choice comedic gem comes when Julie (Ludivine Sagnier) is attempting to explain her unconventional relationship to her mortified and intrigued mother (played by the sensational Brigitte Roüan). But as the small cast is increasingly expanded into an ensemble, fewer characters are fleshed out, plot lines are dropped, and the story loses focus. Even worse, it takes a left turn about half way through and trounces off in another direction altogether.

As a nod to the many things going on here, the director chose to split his 100 minute movie into three distinct "chapters," each with its own direction and mood. Each chapter could have readily been expanded into its own film.

It's disappointing then that Honoré tried to accomplish so much all at once, because when it works, it really does work. What goes wrong here is the "kitchen sink" mentality of thinking he has to do everything all at once.

Posted on 09/07/07 by: garyc 11:28 PM