David O'ConnellVilla Amalia
August 17th 2009 04:13
The concept of making a clean break and surrendering ourselves to the possibilities is an intoxicating one. If only the inherent complications weren’t so overwhelming and, for most of us, untenable. Benoit Jacquot’s new film Villa Amalia (2009), based on a novel by Pascal Quignard, is an interesting, though elusive examination of what prompts a sudden, drastic upheaval in one woman’s life.
When Ann (Isabelle Huppert) tracks her longtime partner Thomas (Xavier Beauvois) to the home of his lover, a coincidental meeting with a childhood friend, Georges (Jean-Hugues Anglade) becomes crucial in altering her outlook. Georges’ interruption of her voyeurism seduces a vision of better times from a mind labouring under the strain of malignant new knowledge. From a dormant past, Ann conjures a gateway to escaping an uncertain future, deciding to shed her skin, sloughing off the remnants of an unsatisfactory life.
So begins a process of deconstructing her life as a famed concert pianist and dissatisfied lover. Initially Ann has no clear conception of where her future lies, content to follow her whims. After clearing away the vestiges of her lingering existence, she heads abroad. A whirlwind tour of various locations follow, captured in an all-too-brief, slightly superficial montage. The scenery is certainly breathtaking, prising exotic lands open for their colourful, almost transcendental vistas. But Ann’s emphasis is on putting mileage between herself and her old life, the one refuted for its fragile preconceptions and lack of sustenance.
Ultimately, Villa Amalia is an engaging though faintly unsatisfying film. It begins with the tone of a thriller, a pitch it doesn’t relinquish for some time. Chiefly responsible for this is Bruno Coulais's score which weighs heavily on scenes with its ominous, insidious tenor. Jacquot’s diversionary tactic lulls his audience into an illusory mode of alert. As it turns out there’s no real suspense, becoming a measured, reflective drama, though this doesn’t prevent the further encouragement of dark, atonal leanings in Coulais’s musical accompaniment.
As usual, Huppert is magnificent as the enigmatic Ann, a woman whose darkest corners may be left unexplored but somehow convinces us of her drastic, even implausible, course of action. What really prompts this radical change? Certainly a long period of stasis in her troubled relationship seems to have birthed a general weariness and apathy, but such an extreme withdrawal from life has deeper implications.
Her new home and eventual destination - that of the film’s title - located on an island off the Italian coast, has the attraction of nestling her against a backdrop of anonymity. It secures her, providing both a barrier against material excesses taken for granted and a symbolic Thomas - representative of a life far away, engaged in pretense as combat.
Casting further ambiguity into the mix is her casual attraction to a woman, Giula (Maya Sansa), she struggles to cross the language barrier to meet. Is there a clue in this wavering sexuality? More simply, Ann is someone we'd all like to be, vindication of some progressive universal fantasy. There's a lot to be said for fleeing our congested urban lives in seeking a realignment with the natural world; to discover a tranquil balance between the things we desire and truly need. Don't say you've never thought about it!
Villa Amalia recently screened at the Melbourne International Film Festival.
When Ann (Isabelle Huppert) tracks her longtime partner Thomas (Xavier Beauvois) to the home of his lover, a coincidental meeting with a childhood friend, Georges (Jean-Hugues Anglade) becomes crucial in altering her outlook. Georges’ interruption of her voyeurism seduces a vision of better times from a mind labouring under the strain of malignant new knowledge. From a dormant past, Ann conjures a gateway to escaping an uncertain future, deciding to shed her skin, sloughing off the remnants of an unsatisfactory life.
So begins a process of deconstructing her life as a famed concert pianist and dissatisfied lover. Initially Ann has no clear conception of where her future lies, content to follow her whims. After clearing away the vestiges of her lingering existence, she heads abroad. A whirlwind tour of various locations follow, captured in an all-too-brief, slightly superficial montage. The scenery is certainly breathtaking, prising exotic lands open for their colourful, almost transcendental vistas. But Ann’s emphasis is on putting mileage between herself and her old life, the one refuted for its fragile preconceptions and lack of sustenance.
Ultimately, Villa Amalia is an engaging though faintly unsatisfying film. It begins with the tone of a thriller, a pitch it doesn’t relinquish for some time. Chiefly responsible for this is Bruno Coulais's score which weighs heavily on scenes with its ominous, insidious tenor. Jacquot’s diversionary tactic lulls his audience into an illusory mode of alert. As it turns out there’s no real suspense, becoming a measured, reflective drama, though this doesn’t prevent the further encouragement of dark, atonal leanings in Coulais’s musical accompaniment.
Ann (Isabelle Huppert)
As usual, Huppert is magnificent as the enigmatic Ann, a woman whose darkest corners may be left unexplored but somehow convinces us of her drastic, even implausible, course of action. What really prompts this radical change? Certainly a long period of stasis in her troubled relationship seems to have birthed a general weariness and apathy, but such an extreme withdrawal from life has deeper implications.
Her new home and eventual destination - that of the film’s title - located on an island off the Italian coast, has the attraction of nestling her against a backdrop of anonymity. It secures her, providing both a barrier against material excesses taken for granted and a symbolic Thomas - representative of a life far away, engaged in pretense as combat.
Casting further ambiguity into the mix is her casual attraction to a woman, Giula (Maya Sansa), she struggles to cross the language barrier to meet. Is there a clue in this wavering sexuality? More simply, Ann is someone we'd all like to be, vindication of some progressive universal fantasy. There's a lot to be said for fleeing our congested urban lives in seeking a realignment with the natural world; to discover a tranquil balance between the things we desire and truly need. Don't say you've never thought about it!
Villa Amalia recently screened at the Melbourne International Film Festival.
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Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
This isn't great by any means but better than average.
I saw another recent film of hers in a Borders bin the other day, one I'd never heard of - Ma Mere.
Been reading the synopsis on the net.......................... ..........must go back to buy!!!!! NOW!!!!!!
Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic