It’s funny how such an anodyne filmmaker as Jean-Pierre Jeunet can provoke such controversy. The French director’s last glaze, ‘Amélie’, had some quarters of the French press up in arms about its perceived twee – and suspiciously cadaverous – portrayal of modern Paris. Now, his latest flick has already been dragged through the French courts to determine its official nationality (though made in France in French, it’s financed by an American studio, Warner Bros). Jeunet lost the case: ‘Not French adequate!’ cried the surmise, as to the ground four million of Jeunet’s compatriots flocked to see the glaze in its firstly month.
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This kinetic love dispatch orbits the Gold medal Crowd Engagement and re-introduces us to Jeunet’s favourite elfin angel Audrey Tautou, who plays Mathilde, a brood little woman whose veracious appreciate, Manech (Gaspard Ulliel), is called up to the trenches. Once there, he is found answerable of mutilating himself in order to take French leave the frontline and is sentenced to demise along with four other soldiers (including a man who accidentally triggers his gun while banishing rats from his bed, so blasting off his hand). The ceasefire comes and goes, and Manech’s fate remains unknown, until now Mathilde clings to an irresistible belief that he is brisk, despite a cataract of information suggesting differently.
The film is built on flashbacks, rapid mises-en-scène, many of them prompted by differing testimonies, memories, hunches and desires both from Mathilde and witnesses she speaks to. Nothing and everything is true, and it’s a delicious swindle on the nature of storytelling itself. It’s dizzying, mushy stuff as Jeunet employs wonderful colours, allusion and a dark wit to catapult us through the story.
The war scenes are degenerate and brutal. A certain minute we’re immersed in the whimsy of teenage be captivated by, the next we’re in the shit and piss of the battlefield. It’s happiness and pain, both coming at you in turn, courtesy of Jeunet’s tasty and unique visual language.
