Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain [2001)

Today is my 40th birthday.

And it gives me pause to reflect.

On the many wonderful things I have done and seen.

And on the mistakes I have made.

This film, in particular, brings to my heart a specific apology.

And yet, I know not how to find the wonderful young woman who first showed me this film.

I doubt she is reading.

But I pray that my thoughts will bounce off the moon…and find her happy in Paris…or Aix-en-Provence.

But Amélie, as we call it in America…is full of beaming positivity.

And so we shall push on.

As much as we wouldst remain in this quicksand, we push on.

Perhaps it’s loneliness.

And certainly an overactive imagination.

But some of it is the absurdity we found in that Québécois masterpiece Léolo (1992) by director Jean-Claude Lauzon.

We can stay at home.

Far from the maddening crowd.

The crowd.

Vidor.

Irving Thalberg.

Thomas Hardy.

But we yearn for excitement.

We yearn to feel the blood pulse in our veins.

To “lose the fear” as The Boo Radleys sang.

Best,

how many waitresses we have fallen in love with.

Hard-boiled eggs in the highlands.

Robert Burns.

Don’t close your heart.

Leave open.

Rube Goldberg might dislodge a wall tile.  And a world beyond…

Éclairs sur l’au-delà…

Do good things.

As if you were an angel.

A spy for God.

Making miracles.

Ellen Andrée…the girl drinking the water…in Renoir’s painting.

Pierre-Auguste.

Must clarify, not Jean…extolling Bazin.

Everything secretly.

One hand not knowing what the other is doing.

QWERTY.

X.

You have a mission to bring happiness to those around you.

Hippie bumper stickers call it “random acts of kindness”.

And I wholeheartedly approve.

Send the gnome to Nome.

Ponder jurassic orgasms from far afield or near (15+1).

And let out some steam for modesty’s sake.

Stratagems befitting Technical Services in thrall to love…forgery for romance.

Time machine.

Nothing some Twinings tea can’t age.

And the gaslighting which is currently being employed straight from Alinsky’s Rules against pizzagate researchers…turn the beat around.

Knowing John Podesta founded the Center for American Progress…under the aegis of which Mind Wars was written by Jonathan D. Moreno.

We have on good faith that US spec-ops use this very book.

So that Mr. Podesta should not be at all surprised by a little blowback.

Neuroscience neuroscience neuroscience.

And the funding and methodology of trolls suddenly makes sense.

Yes, Amélie is an expert in psychological warfare.

But only as a last resort.

AND, most importantly, she is sticking up for the undefended.

Jamel Debbouze.

It’s impressionist binoculars vs. covert telescope.

Good-natured.

But only she holds the key.

To Ellen Andrée.

And to the ghost.

Who seeks to repair the collective memory.

“Don’t forget my face”, she posits.

But love is the ultimate job.

The ultimate reward.

To find another like yourself.

To be accepted.

To find the lock for your key.

And vice versa.

It is cat and mouse.

And Zorro.

And Audrey Tautou is magnificent.

She is a jewel in a world created by director Jean-Pierre Jeunet.

So tender.

So halting.

We feel “the time-image” of which Deleuze wrote.

Love is too strong.

Like staring into the sun.

Too forceful.

Like a full moon.

But luckily Mathieu Kassovitz knows his proverbs.

And that “made all the difference”.

Early on one frosty morn’.

Simply put, Amélie is an undeniable masterpiece.

That only the hard-hearted could look down upon.

 

-PD

City of Ember [2008)

Looking at the DVD cover for this film lowered my expectations.  Harry Treadaway cut a rather effete figure and Saoirse Ronan bore somewhat of a sartorial resemblance to her Susie Salmon role (The Lovely Bones).  Fortunately, the dust jacket designers did the disk a disservice as this is actually quite a good movie.

I make a habit of not scrutinizing the list of players prior to viewing films (especially for newer fare such as this).  It wasn’t long into this picture before the phrase “Thank God for Bill Murray!” rang resoundingly in my head.  Indeed, Murray was just what this film needed on many levels.  Conversely, I’m not sure Murray needed this film, but that’s neither here nor there.

We are there.  Ember.  One immediately feels references to Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927) and perhaps also City of Lost Children.  One thing is certain:  the beginning of this affair bears a striking resemblance to the Jeunet film Amélie in its focus on lost, hidden, and wrapped secret items.  One might assume that Ember’s writer Jeanne DuPrau was culturally borrowed from the French by producer Tom Hanks (among others), but her scant Wikipedia bio lists her simply as an American writer from San Francisco.

On to the film proper we see an admirable directing job by Gil Kenan.  In the lights which fall from the artificial sky, we might think of that quasi-classic The Truman Show (1998) (and when the lights emit showers of sparks, perhaps the reference is The Natural from 1984).  City of Ember’s $55 million budget is apparent in the lavish sound-stage city.  There is quite a parallel to the National Treasure franchise (particularly its second installment Book of Secrets) in the end segment of our film.  The narrowly-escaped deluge bears mention as Book of Secrets was released the year before City of Ember.  Even the large staircase to the outer world echoes the original National Treasure movie of 2004.  Of course, we can’t forget that a similar style of filmmaking was already successful at least as early as The Goonies (1985).

Another Saoirse Ronan film also would later feature a sort of underground city (The Host, 2013).  Further parallels could perhaps be drawn between the pernicious blackouts of our film and the home state of our author DuPrau (California).

In simplest terms, Bill Murray is hilarious as always (when allowed to work to his strengths).  Murray plays the mayor of our doomed civilization…generally a scumbag throughout.  Harry Treadaway’s first few lines are delivered rather starched, but he improves vastly over the course of the film to give an all-around fine performance.  Saoirse Ronan (my reason for watching in the first place) is excellent as always.  Her sprinting streaks as a messenger presage the awesome talents of Hanna which she would pull off a few years later.

Truth be known, this is unrecognizable from a Disney movie, but I do not fault it for that in the least.  It is good to see even these largely sanitized stories point an indicative finger at the national security state and the way it operates.  The corruption of power is timeless.  In yet another National Treasure borrowing, the Pipeworks technician Sul keeps the gears of the hydro plant working just as Ed Harris had held the gate open for Nicolas Cage and company to escape the flooded Cibola.  Oh, and the sun also rises…

PD