David O'ConnellTime to Leave (Le Temps qui reste)
March 6th 2009 02:00
Francois Ozon’s 2007 follow-up to the magnificent 5x2 reads like a disease-of-the-week, midday movie on paper: an arrogant 31 year-old fashion photographer, Romain (Melvil Poupard), suddenly has his life turned upside down by the diagnosis of a malignant tumor, giving him only months to live without treatment. Even with chemotherapy his doctor assesses the odds of survival at less than 5%.
But with the subtle finesse his fans will already be familiar with, Ozon somehow turns this scenario into a tender and moving portrait of a man coming to grips with his mortality. Filled with simple, poignant reflections on his life, Time to Leave follows Romain's slow retreat into the vast store of memories within, some of which painfully touch upon his now strained relationship with his sister. There are also encounters with his past self as an innocent boy whose life is yet to be tainted by neither the complexities of life nor an exploration of sexual identity.
Romain reacts badly to the news, withholding the truth from his parents and sister, as well as his young boyfriend, Sasha (Christian Sengewald), whom he promptly kicks out of his apartment, fearing intimate confrontations that might jeopardize his bitter need for secrecy.
He spills the beans to a single confidante: his paternal grandmother, Laura (Jeanne Moreau), mostly because of her own close proximity to death - which she wryly acknowledges - but also because he sees a semblance of his own wasted personality fading in her: including a need for selfishness, which she admits they've shared, like a survival instinct through the course of their lives.
There’s a strange subtext running through the film relating to Romain’s aversion of children. He refuses to photograph his sister’s youngsters and tells strangers in idle conversation of his general dislike of them. But then, in a peculiar twist - and what is perhaps the film's only dubious strand – Romain has a chance meeting with a waitress, Jany (Valeria Bruni-Tedeschi) who presents him with a infertile husband and a very unusual proposition!
As he accomplished most successfully in Under the Sand and 5x2, Ozon gives surprising emotional weight to isolated, innocuous and random scenes as Romain submits to the reality of his condition, ordering his life and making peace with his own shortcomings, all the while capturing moments in time with his tiny camera as if these last images might be exchanged for a miraculous retreat of his disease or profound understanding, and not an ironic inversion of his ‘past’ life as a globe-trotting photographer.
Ozon’s films are typically shot with a glossy, transparent look, his framing uncluttered by excessive distractions and this is no exception, turning ordinary, everyday scenes into attractive panoramas. Brief snippets of ethereal, but never intrusive, classical music are effectively used too in the place of a traditional score.
Time to Leave would be trite and inconsequential without the intense and brave performance of Poupard, an enigmatic actor whose moments of reflective silence are amongst the film’s most revealing and moving.
As the admittedly strong supporting players fade into the background, losing shape as Romain’s plight wrestles him away from all human contact, Poupard picks up and carries this film for Ozon, a director whose resonant but unsentimental body of work continues to impress, adding further sheen to his reputation as one of modern French cinema’s true shining lights.
But with the subtle finesse his fans will already be familiar with, Ozon somehow turns this scenario into a tender and moving portrait of a man coming to grips with his mortality. Filled with simple, poignant reflections on his life, Time to Leave follows Romain's slow retreat into the vast store of memories within, some of which painfully touch upon his now strained relationship with his sister. There are also encounters with his past self as an innocent boy whose life is yet to be tainted by neither the complexities of life nor an exploration of sexual identity.
Romain reacts badly to the news, withholding the truth from his parents and sister, as well as his young boyfriend, Sasha (Christian Sengewald), whom he promptly kicks out of his apartment, fearing intimate confrontations that might jeopardize his bitter need for secrecy.
He spills the beans to a single confidante: his paternal grandmother, Laura (Jeanne Moreau), mostly because of her own close proximity to death - which she wryly acknowledges - but also because he sees a semblance of his own wasted personality fading in her: including a need for selfishness, which she admits they've shared, like a survival instinct through the course of their lives.
Melvil Poupard as Romain
There’s a strange subtext running through the film relating to Romain’s aversion of children. He refuses to photograph his sister’s youngsters and tells strangers in idle conversation of his general dislike of them. But then, in a peculiar twist - and what is perhaps the film's only dubious strand – Romain has a chance meeting with a waitress, Jany (Valeria Bruni-Tedeschi) who presents him with a infertile husband and a very unusual proposition!
Capturing last moments
As he accomplished most successfully in Under the Sand and 5x2, Ozon gives surprising emotional weight to isolated, innocuous and random scenes as Romain submits to the reality of his condition, ordering his life and making peace with his own shortcomings, all the while capturing moments in time with his tiny camera as if these last images might be exchanged for a miraculous retreat of his disease or profound understanding, and not an ironic inversion of his ‘past’ life as a globe-trotting photographer.
Romain is comforted by grandmother Laura (Jeanne Moreau)
Ozon’s films are typically shot with a glossy, transparent look, his framing uncluttered by excessive distractions and this is no exception, turning ordinary, everyday scenes into attractive panoramas. Brief snippets of ethereal, but never intrusive, classical music are effectively used too in the place of a traditional score.
Time to Leave would be trite and inconsequential without the intense and brave performance of Poupard, an enigmatic actor whose moments of reflective silence are amongst the film’s most revealing and moving.
As the admittedly strong supporting players fade into the background, losing shape as Romain’s plight wrestles him away from all human contact, Poupard picks up and carries this film for Ozon, a director whose resonant but unsentimental body of work continues to impress, adding further sheen to his reputation as one of modern French cinema’s true shining lights.
Romain's life and appearance become altered
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-Bruno
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic