Blu-ray Review: That Man From Rio (1964); Up to His Ears (1965)

   
 Now Available to Own

As the son of a production designer and grandson of a painter, Philippe de Broca possessed an innate understanding of frame composition long before he ever began studying photography and cinematography in Parisian film school.

Putting his education and aesthetic intuition to use in the real world, de Broca first got his start helming military documentary shorts in Germany and Algeria before he served as an assistant director on two of the earliest French New Wave productions in the form of Chabrol’s Le Beau Serge and Truffaut’s The 400 Blows respectively.

A cinematic jack-of-all-trades with a diverse background and resume, de Broca was so affected by what he'd seen during wartime that when it came time for him to launch his own filmmaking career, he vowed to make positive pictures that were sure to uplift as opposed to otherwise trendy melancholic arthouse fare.

Thus he transformed his belief that "laughter is the best defense against upsets in life" into a filmic mission statement and went to work ensuring that this theme would propel the plotline of his most ambitious feature to date.

To achieve this goal, de Broca looked to the past, finding the perfect balance of laughter and pathos in the fast paced screwball comedies that stole the hearts of filmgoers during the Great Depression, which inspired him and his co-writers to take a likeminded approach on That Man From Rio.

An ingenious and zany off-the-wall adventure as well as a great celebration of the Capraesque spirit –de Broca's enormously successful Rio can be best appreciated as a '60s version of a '30s screwball comedy.

Deriving inspiration from another '30s source via Herge's beloved Tintin book series, after his previous work directing three New Wave style features, de Broca spun off to play with genre and tone, much like his colleague Jacques Demy did when he made the jump from Bay of Angels to his own unique spin on a Hollywood musical in the early ‘60s.

An ambitious globetrotting romp of James Bond worthy proportions, in de Broca's Rio, the filmmaker combines the romantic banter and feather-light feel of It Happened One Night and Bringing Up Baby with the madcap energy of an It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World style live action comic strip. Yet despite all of the homage, impressively, Rio still manages to hark back to his original Tintin inspiration.

One of the biggest box office smashes of the year as well as de Broca's career, That Man From Rio is as much of a freewheeling spoof of Hitchcockian capers and James Bond style espionage as the Blake Edwards/Peter Sellers series The Pink Panther, which launched a year earlier.

A major influence on Spielberg's Indiana Jones franchise, That Man leap-frogs way past physical slapstick and verbal gymnastics.

Venturing into "look, ma, no hands" stunt territory, the film boasts many jaw-dropping moments that threaten not only plausibility but also life and limb of its incredibly brave lead Jean-Paul Belmondo, who had so much fun doing a majority of his own stunts in this French-Italian co-production that he partnered up with de Broca five more times.

Turning each and every new location into an elaborate playground where anything goes – the epic chase movie finds Belmondo's soldier Adrien released on a week-long military leave.

Arriving home just in the nick of time, Adrien is stunned to see his lovely fiancé (Françoise Dorleac) abducted right before his eyes following the museum heist of an Amazonian statue, which left one man dead and another taken along with Dorleac.

Following in hot pursuit and willing to do whatever it takes to get his girl back in time to avoid being picked up for (involuntarily) army desertion, Adrien chases after the villains, impulsively ditching his dead vehicle and hoofing it all the way to the airport in an amusing suspension of disbelief early on in the movie.

When the journey takes Belmondo from Paris to Rio and then Brazil, the adventure continues by land, air, and sea in a series of increasingly dangerous action scenes that still impress today in this gorgeous high definition, rainbow bright and razor sharp Blu-ray restoration.

Featuring a plethora of bonus material, That Man arrives on disc as the first part of a double feature, hot off the heels of its 50th anniversary theatrical run last summer which introduced de Broca's thrilling romantic comedy to a contemporary audience reared on the movies it inspired including Raiders of the Lost Ark, Romancing the Stone and The Gods Must Be Crazy.

Given a first rate release by Cohen Film Collection, Rio also makes a great international companion piece to another adventurous romcom from the era via Stanley Donen’s Charade as well as the '30s road movies that helped give it its rhythmic banter.

While it definitely could've benefited from a sharper edit and a stronger character arc for its supporting players (including Dorleac's carefree, flighty beauty in particular), it still holds up well as an iconic French blockbuster.

Daring to paint outside genre lines to appeal to the crowds vs. the critics first and foremost, de Broca's escapist classic is proof that when done correctly, there's room for art in a studio spoof.

The end result not only garnered an Oscar nomination for its script but also took home the 1964 prize for Best Foreign Language Film over more serious global fare from the New York Film Critics Circle.

Watching it today, you realize that That Man is exactly the type of film that Francis Veber tried to catapult back into the mainstream nearly twenty years later with his ‘80s comedies which were released a few years after Steven Spielberg struck Saturday matinee style gold with an inventive science fiction spin he dubbed Raiders of the Lost Ark.

And while de Broca and Belmondo tried to make lightning strike twice with the release's second feature in the form of 1965's Up to His Ears, the follow-up film starts to fall apart within the first act.

 

An overlong and tonally awkward effort, Ears is loosely based on the 1879 Jules Verne novel Tribulations of a Chinaman in China.

And although this film is notable for showcasing another career highlight collaboration for de Broca with Jean Rochefort (which is the subject of a behind-the-scenes featurette on the two men), ultimately Ears seems like a missed opportunity all around to send-up James Bond even further.

Fortunately, Ursula Andress evokes plenty of laughs as a brainy stripper studying seduction and the motivations of men.

But besides a few snappy lines as well as an exploitative white bikini clad, beach frolicking homage to her role as the first (and arguably most famously iconic) "Bond girl" in Dr. No, the moody film has a tough time navigating between scenes both dark and light.

Oddly bearing more in common with Hal Ashby's Harold and Maude than the adventure films it’s purporting to roast, Ears gives us an alarming introduction to Belmondo's joyless playboy as a man literally hanging on the edge for dear life.

Existentially and emotionally unfulfilled – regardless of his millions or upcoming engagement – when we first meet the curiously named bored Arthur, he's driving himself off a cliff in what we soon discover is his ninth suicide attempt in one week alone.

While the beginning of Ears is echoed by a final sequence in Harold and Maude, in both films, love manages to give each man a reason to live, just as it gives Dudley Moore's aimless, rich drunk Arthur Bach a reason to stop killing himself with alcohol in the far more sweet-tempered Arthur.

Thankfully, much like the vastly superior Maude, Ears manages to grow on the viewer due to time as well as its truly inventive (if ultimately meandering) plotline.

Realizing that his friends won't inherit any money if he succeeds in taking his own life, he arranges his own murder via a loyal assistant, only to almost immediately find himself having second thoughts when he crosses paths with – and loses his heart to – the stripper played by Andress.

Unable to identify those targeting him (particularly when the mother of the woman he'd originally agreed to marry hears about his life insurance policy and tries to take matters into her own hands), Arthur goes on the run, leading viewers on another over-the-top adventure.

Increasingly outrageous and downright bizarre at times, Ears is still worth a look for cineastes to better appreciate the then mightily original picture's impact on future films in the following two decades.

Best approached as a B-movie, which is all the more magnified by its inclusion as the B-movie in this double-feature set, Up to His Ears may be disappointing for Belmondo fans but lovers of Andress won't want to miss it.

Gorgeously transferred to Blu-ray as a two-disc collection, the titles serve as a terrific introduction to de Broca, who continued to seek out adventurous laughs with Belmondo and Rochefort throughout his six decade spanning career.

While chaotic excess gets the better of de Broca in the all-over-the-place Ears, personally I'm hoping for a follow-up Cohen Film Collection to deliver further foreign comedic capers including de Broca’s 1973 effort Le Magnifique aka The Man From Acapulco, which sounds like another intriguing hybrid of romance, comedy, adventure, spy spoof and Belmondo.

Until then, we'll remain grateful to the Cohen Collection for continuing to preserve little seen and/or long-out-of-print foreign cinema, which – thanks to this shiny, extra feature filled Blu-ray release – we're able to find without a cross-continent hunt or treasure map.

Text ©2014, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. http://www.filmintuition.com Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy of this title in order to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique.

Blu-ray Review: The Artist and The Model (2012)

Now Available to Own   
 
  Photo Slideshow 
 

Original Artist: El Artista y la Modelo

While the rest of the world is fixated on the increasing tensions and escalating dangers of the Second World War, Jean Rochefort’s renowned sculptor Marc Cros would rather spend the twilight of his life trying to pinpoint the pitch-perfect lightning in a bottle-like idea to ignite the creative spark he needs to produce what could very well be his final masterpiece.

When his former model turned wife and lifetime muse Lea (played by Claudia Cardinale) spots Merce (Aida Folch), a sensual yet mysterious young beauty rinsing herself off in the fountain of their local village square situated near the border of France and Spain, she invites the girl to lunch.

Upon discovering that she’s escaped from a Spanish refugee camp, Lea decides to give her refuge on their land. Offering her something beyond mere food, clothing and shelter, Lea provides Merce with an opportunity to get back on her feet, arranging for her to model for her husband in the hill top studio that he hasn’t set foot in since before the war began with the desire that Merce will get Marc back on his artistic footing as well.

Having recognized in Merce’s figure a similar aesthetic appeal as the one her husband has always gravitated to in his strongest works, Lea hopes her female intuition will pay off and that somehow this intriguing young woman who doesn’t know the first thing about art will have within her the ability to knock down the walls that have blocked Marc from creative productivity for so long.

A quietly powerful film that’s filled with sumptuous frame compositions that if removed from the reels would be suitable for museum display, Belle Epoque director Fernando Trueba’s mesmerizing cinematic contemplation of art and life becomes even more bewitching thanks to its arresting black and white cinematography that's heightened all the more on Blu-ray.

While obviously it's a timely nod to the World War II setting, it’s nonetheless a curious choice to ignore the thousands of shades available in the color palette (particularly given some of the film’s dialogue that pays tribute to the light, colors and hues of nature) and instead focus only on life lived in two stark shades.

Yet this bold risk pays off beautifully, making you pay even greater attention to the characters, the dialogue (or more accurately, the large lack thereof) as well as the subtext in between. For had the cinematographer captured the already luscious backdrops of the European countryside, we may have gotten lost in the gorgeous landscape versus Cros’s description of the same, which in turn reveals volumes about the character, the way he lives his life and sees the world.

While The Artist and the Model is a celebration of the mysterious creative process including the complicated relationship that can develop between an artist and his muse, the film is admittedly rather slow to establish a decent rhythm, with which it builds to a true crescendo midway through its 105 minute running time.

And although your patience is rewarded with this overall masterful effort by Trueba that was posthumously dedicated to two individuals including his sculptor brother, it’s nonetheless a film that’s not going to appeal to everyone.

One of those distinctly European endeavors in the same vein as I Am Love, Trueba’s Artist is far less concerned with a straightforward three-act structure and traditional narrative than one that relies on character to move the story along.

Although the eponymous model is rather painfully underdeveloped in the film at least until the roughly one hour mark when we’re offered some truly fascinating answers to questions that had risen to the surface earlier in the movie, unfortunately Trueba’s far greater affection for Rochefort’s artist and his creative plight does make the film slightly uneven in its balance of character-driven storytelling.

And indeed, the film is at its best overall when it relishes in the artistic process from Cros questioning aloud how such wisdom was ever possible that Rembrandt could incorporate his thoughts into a single sketch to the way he diligently fights to convey an “idea” rather than make a perfect representation of whatever is in front of him.

Nominated for twenty-three awards around the globe, while Trueba’s decidedly different take on life during wartime is refreshingly unique, I only wish that more time could have been spent on the seemingly unassuming yet truly brave Merce, whom we discover did more than just escape captivity by dedicating her time to help others do the same.

Likewise, although we sense the finality of the tone in the last act, the rather abrupt implication and offscreen action made by one of the characters at the end of the movie is handled a bit too hurriedly to get us fully onboard with the decision emotionally – making the film just kind of hang there instead of wrap up with a stronger sense of conviction.

This being said, while the portrayal is rushed, the final sequence definitely pays off on the thesis of the movie as a unique study of just what it means to create art (in addition to two very different relationships with the medium itself) from the point of view of two very different characters.

Whereas for Rochefort’s Cros it surpasses all other interest in life and/or adds meaning to the savage actions of men around them, in the eyes of the model whose very body or life inspired his art, you wouldn’t have art without looking out for your fellow man (or woman).

Thus, even though the film is called The Artist and the Model, in some ways they are one and the same. Namely, Merce brings her views to life in multiple ways from helping soldiers, civilians and by posing for Cros, ultimately knowing that her legacy as an artist of life will live on in a number of ways –  in the lives of those who’ve been saved either directly be her or (via Cros's statue) indirectly through art. 

Text ©2014, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. http://www.filmintuition.com Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy of this title in order to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique.

French Postcards (1979)

Director:
Willard Huyck

As soon as the college exchange students arrive in Paris, they are advised to wipe everything American from their minds in order to fully immerse themselves in the sophisticated elegance of French culture.

While normally when the words are uttered by someone as alluring as Marie-France Pisier (Love on the Run), they should leave an indelible mark on her new young pupils, unfortunately the effect becomes comedic instead of philosophical when just shortly thereafter, she gets into a French language shouting match with their obnoxious tour bus driver. However as both a professor and co-director of the Institute of French Studies, consummate professional Catherine Tessier (Pisier) recovers flawlessly, flashing her trademark beguiling smile while segueing into the clichéd adage that the students will remember the time they spent there for the rest of their lives.

It’s the same sentiment that the blonde, neurotic, lost soul Laura (Baby Doll actress Carroll Baker’s daughter Blanche Baker) takes as a warning, scribbling endless postcards to David, her boyfriend back home in the states while keeping her sightseeing itinerary even more packed than her school schedule, promising both David and herself that she will see all 212 important French sites listed in the Michelin Guide. While Laura gives professionals specializing in travelogues a run for their money, her fellow students seem far more interested in researching Parisian l’amour as handsome Oberlin College exchange student Alex (Devil Wears Prada star David Marshall Grant) develops a stalker-like interest on Catherine, despite her marriage to the snobbishly rude Jean Rochefort (Man on the Train).

Unlike his nervous, indecisive but sweet roommate Joel (Howard the Duck’s Miles Chapin) who seems more contented to keep their elderly widowed caretaker company while watching Star Trek reruns in French, the aspiring musician David shares that he was so desperate to get the hell out of Ohio, he would’ve joined the Foreign Legion in order to get to Paris. While David continues to follow Catherine around the city, hoping she’ll share his feelings, soon enough David’s argument that Joel shouldn’t act like a prisoner since he’s in a foreign country, prompt Joel to make a bold move and telephone the independent-minded but adorable Toni (the sadly late Valerie Quennessen) for a date, which leads to hilariously unexpected results.

Filled with chance encounters and characters bonding with others they may not have given a second glance to if they’d met on their own American soil, this likably energetic and fast-paced romantic coming of age comedy boasts another fine script from talented, married American Graffiti and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom authors Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck (who also directed). In addition, French Postacards seems like a nice predecessor to Cedric Klapisch’s more allegorical yet similarly themed 2002 film L’Auberge Espagnole (a.k.a. The Spanish Apartment). Despite the fact that Chapin’s Joel does recall Richard Dreyfuss’ similarly indecisive Curt Henderson from Graffiti, while some critics have disregarded Postcards as a merely forgettable, French rehash of American Graffiti, that seems like a bit of a short-sighted dismissal to this reviewer who actually considers Graffiti to be one of her all-time favorite American films.

Featuring a young Debra Winger in an early supporting blink-and-you’ve-missed-it role, aside from excellent work by the young cast, the film’s ultimate scene-stealer arrives in the last thirty minutes of the film with the introduction of Mandy Patinkin’s admittedly stereotypical yet hilarious Iranian full-time travel agent, part-time womanizer Sayyid. Similar to his quotable (“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die.”) work in The Princess Bride, Patinkin’s Sayyid helps pick up the pace when the film threatens to move into melodrama as the young lovers face romantic speed-bumps in their relationships. Intriguingly, while it would’ve been tempting for most writers to include a buffoon-like character late in the game as a mere diversion or to add to the film’s running time if they’ve begun to run out of plot points, the inventive Katz and Huyck actually utilize the actions of his character to propel the story forward. Incidentally, this leads to an interesting and much needed arc for the character of Laura, which I’d frankly never seen coming.

Originally produced by Paramount Pictures, despite the undeniable age of the film print, this overlooked 1979 classic is sure to resonate with college travelers today. It may also pick up additional momentum with its recent release on DVD by Legend Films, especially considering not only all the great talent involved (including Pisier and Rochefort) but those who may have seen American Graffiti one too many times and are in desperate need of a European change of scenery.