Tag: Denis Cote

That Kind of Summer (Un Été Comme Ça)

Posted on by Redmond Bacon

QUICK SNAP: LIVE FROM BERLIN

Set in a retreat for the sexually obsessed, That Kind of Summer sees Quebec auteur Côté create a reverie on desire, addiction and the possibility of changing eventually one’s ways. A challenging yet relatively conservative work, Côté is relatively more ambitious than in his last few features, creating a work that actively interrogates the multifaceted nature of sexual desire.

Three women enrol in a retreat for the sexually addicted. It’s hard to say whether they were forced to go on purpose or they are are willing to enrol just to get a free holiday. They are asked to stay for 26 days, with a one day off in-between. They are looked after by visiting Germany professor Octavia (Anne Ratte Polle) and social worker Sami (Samir Guesmi), who resist their own desires to help these women find a way of living without having to think about sex.

Unlike many Hollywood movie, where rehab is presented as an opportunity for radical change, never mind the unrealistic nature of such radical changes within such a short time offered, That Kind of Summer deliberately eschews conventional character development in favour of a more realistic depiction of people trying to think beyond sexual obsession. People aren’t solved within a single retreat. Whatever neurosis you have, it’s going to take more than one trip to finally figure out what’s wrong, if anything is actually wrong at all.

While the women in this stay are well-rendered when it comes to their sexuality — shown through solo scenes and interaction with other men, as well as giving time to explain their feelings — the lone male character draws a blank. He is tempted throughout his stay — with all three women temping him at one point or another — but his internal psychology is left strangely alone, making for a weirdly feminine only experience. Considering the amount of scenes we encounter with women pleasuring themselves, including Octavia, the lack of inclusion of the male perspective fails to round out this tale in an egalitarian way.

The cinematography is handheld, and seems to bob up and down as if the camera is lost at sea, creating a sense of unease throughout. Côté remains a supreme stylist; favouring huge close-ups, long, almost silent takes and ambiguity through camera movement, never settling on a single character or style, making for a film that viewers can interpret in various different ways.

I have watched several Denis Côté films now (mostly at Berlinale) and I still can’t quite figure out his style. This is a director who trods his own dogged path, following his whims throughout various successful and unsuccessful ventures. There is an absence of conventionality throughout his filmmaking, which avoids traditional filmmaking structures in favour of a more observant and subtle style. The Quebec filmmaker seems to watch and watch his characters as if they aren’t scripted (even if they are). Rarely passing judgement, his films present a situation without ever settling on a side. It makes for a fascinating watch, but it rarely feels urgent: he’s kind of filmmaker that remains a pleasure to experience, but rarely makes you feel despite his surfeit of style. Here’s hoping his next film has something a bit more engaging to latch on to.

That Kind of Summer plays in Competition at the Berlinale between February 10th to 22ndÉ.

Ghost Town Anthology (Répertoire des villes disparues)

Posted on by victorfraga

Adapted from Laurence Olivier’s eponymous 2015 novel, this unusual ghost story takes place in the wintry Irénée-les-Neiges, a fictional town with a population of just 215. It all starts when 21-year-old Simon Dubé dies in a car accident. His family and locals suspect that he took his own life due to depression, and the inability to break away from his dull routine. As the family and the locals grapple to come to terms with the tragic death, strange events begin to take place.

The government wants to help the small community to overcme the tragic loss. They recruit a social worker from Montreal in order to support the mourning locals, but the formidable mayoress Simone Smallwood (played by veteran Diane Lavallée) emphatically turns the offer down, instead sending the envoy away. She claims that the tiny hamlet is emotionally self-sufficient and they can handle their problems on their own, as they always have. It’s as if Irénée-les-Neiges wanted to be detached from the rest of the world.

Suddenly, paranormal entities begin to appear. Children wearing masks wander the snowy fields and streets. Silhouettes pop out of people’s windows. Spectres show up inside the houses, triggering hapless locals to run scared. The late Simon appears inside his father Romouald’s (Jean-Michel Anctil) car. He also visits his older brother Jimmy (Robert Naylor) and their mother Gisele (Josée Deschênes), separately and on different occasions. The silent apparitions (the dead don’t talk) continue to escalate, seemingly outnumbering the living. Soon the streets are dotted with quiet and spooky figures. We learn that some of these people died decades earlier.

Despite the paranormal topic, this not a horror movie. Denis Cote is not a genre director, but instead a recognised auteur. This is not the type of film that will keep you in the edge of your seat, even if some of the images are quite creepy. The cinematography (shot on 16mm stock) is mostly grainy, with a touch of grey and gloom, evoking photographs from yore. The dead are never covered in blood. There are no gaping wounds and contorted faces. They just look sad and passive. This is not George Romero. Instead, this a subtle art movie, a commentary on small-town insularity, where life is so trite and banal that the dead are more liberated than the living. Young people feel particularly trapped. The desire to move away is pervasive.

A young woman called Adele (Larissa Corriveau, pictured at the top of this review), with apparent learning difficulties, is very scared of the apparitions. Corriveau is magnificent, her big bulgy eyes conveying a palpable sense of vulnerability. But she has a surprise in store for everyone. She finds a very peculiar way of rising above both the living and the dead in the end of the movie. A very unorthodox redemption. Those who have seem Pasolini’s Teorema (1968) will know exactly what I mean.

All in all, this is an elegant and moving ghost story, even if a little lethargic at times. The images of the equally dismal dead and living inhabitants of Irénée-les-Neiges will stay with you for some time.

Ghost Town Anthology premiered at the BFI London Film Festival in October 2019, when this piece was originally written. It’s on Mubi in April and May!