A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Showing posts with label Bertrand Tavernier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bertrand Tavernier. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 24, 2026

Captain Conan (Bertrand Tavernier, 1996)

Philippe Torreton in Captain Conan

Cast: Philippe Torreton, Samuel Le Bihan, Bernard Le Coq, Catherine Rich, François Berléand, Claude Rich, André Falcon, Claude Brosset, Crina Muresan, Cécile Vassort, François Levantal, Pierre Val. Screenplay: Jean Cosmos, Bertrand Tavernier, based on a novel by Roger Vercel. Cinematography: Alain Choquart. Production design: Guy-Claude François. Film editing: Luce Grunenwaldt. Music: Oswald d'Andrea. 

Wars don't end neatly, as we should know by now. In Bertrand Tavernier's Captain Conan the armistice ending World War I has been signed, but for the French soldiers in Eastern Europe, it hasn't made much difference. For one thing, the Russian civil war following the Bolshevik revolution is still raging, and for the French government and its allies that means the threat of incursions into the Balkans. So a group of French special forces trained in hand-to-hand guerrilla combat, led by Lt. Conan (Philippe Torreton), is sent to Romania. But the group is made up of a lot of rough types with criminal backgrounds, and Conan is hard-pressed to keep them in line. When the military starts trying to enforce discipline with courts martial, a young officer named Norbert (Samuel Le Bihan) is put in charge of trying the offenders even though his background isn't in law but in the academic study of literature. Conan and Norbert join in an odd couple relationship as they try to take a middle ground between by-the-book military justice and a humane view of the offenders. Tavernier's film mixes action and questions of wartime morality in a rich, thoughtful fashion. It's anchored by the charismatic performance of Torreton and the contrastingly quiet one of Le Bihan.   

Monday, June 22, 2026

The Judge and the Assassin (Bertrand Tavernier, 1976)

Michel Galabru and Philippe Noiret in The Judge and the Assassin

Cast: Philippe Noiret, Michel Galabru, Isabelle Huppert, Jean-Claude Brialy, Renée Faure, Cécile Vassort, Jean-Roger Caussimon, Jean Bretonnière, François Dyrek, Monique Chaumette, Yves Robert. Screenplay: Jean Aurenche, Bertrand Tavernier, Pierre Bost. Cinematography: Pierre-William Glenn. Production design: Antoine Roman. Film editing: Armand Psenny. Music: Philippe Sarde. 

A serial killer has been prowling the French countryside, but when he is finally captured, the judge in charge of the case is less interested in justice than in milking the sensational crimes as a means to his own glory and advancement. That's the essence of Bertrand Tavernier's The Judge and the Assassin, a colorful historical drama based on events that actually took place in the last decade of the 19th century. The standout performer is Michel Galabru as Joseph Bouvier, an army veteran obsessed with a young woman named Louise (Cécile Vassort), whom he attempts to kill before turning the gun on himself. Both survive, but Bouvier is sent to a mental asylum -- and then deinstitutionalized, whereupon he begins his tour of the countryside, raping and killing young victims. Eventually he's brought before Émile Rousseau (Philippe Noiret), a judge who sees an opportunity to make a name for himself in a country already in a frenzy over the Dreyfus Affair. Rousseau lives with his mother, slyly played by Renée Faure, who has a wonderful scene in which the sweet old lady reads out the gruesome particulars of Bouier's violent sex crimes. He also has a mistress, Rose, played by the young Isabelle Huppert. Tavernier spends more time with these secondary characters than is absolutely necessary, but they give some depth to the characterization of the judge. The film doesn't quite make its mark as a commentary on the way justice is undermined by human greed and deviousness, and it ends a touch too didactically. But Tavernier succeeds at handsomely blending a brutal story, splendid performances, and ironically lovely views of the rural French landscape.


Saturday, June 20, 2026

Death Watch (Bertrand Tavernier, 1980)

Harvey Keitel and Romy Schneider in Death Watch
Cast: Romy Schneider, Harvey Keitel, Harry Dean Stanton, Thérèse Liotard, Max von Sydow, Caroline Langrishe, William Russell, Vadim Glowna, Eva Maria Meineke, Bernhard Wicki. Screenplay: David Rayfiel, Bertrand Tavernier, based on a novel by David Compton. Cinematography: Pierre-William Glenn. Production design: Anthony Pratt. Film editing: Michael Ellis, Armand Psenny. Music: Antoine Duhamel. 

Bertrand Tavernier's Death Watch takes place in a future in which death from disease has become so rare that it's not just newsworthy, it's a commercial opportunity. That is, it attracts those who would cash in on the voyeurism of reality television. Watching people die has become as popular as watching wealthy housewives squabble is today. This leads TV producer Vincent Ferriman (Harry Dean Stanton) to try to persuade Katherine Mortenhoe (Romy Schneider), who has been told that she's dying from an incurable disease, to let him document her last days. Ferriman has a secret gimmick: He has persuaded Roddy (Harvey Keitel), a cameraman, to undergo an experimental procedure that turns his own eyes into cameras that broadcast whatever he sees to Ferriman's studio. Roddy is supposed to follow Katherine wherever she goes as she's dying. Katherine wants no part of Ferriman's plan at first, but eventually she pretends to go along with it, planning to escape. You guessed it: She doesn't know about Roddy's augmentation, and when she thinks she has given Ferriman the slip, hiding out in a slummy part of the city and disguising herself, Roddy seeks her out and befriends her, secretly transmitting her experiences back to the studio. It's an ingenious setup for a story that takes some predictable courses -- yes, Katherine and Roddy fall into something like love -- but also has a few surprising and even poignant twists. Tavernier's film gets its texture from the tension between its futuristic story and its setting, a mundane urban environment that could be almost any era in the past hundred or so years. Even its international cast provides a sense of universality to the film. Like most good science fiction, it's really about the present more than the future,



Wednesday, June 17, 2026

A Week's Vacation (Bertrand Tavernier, 1980)

Michel Galabru and Nathalie Baye in A Week's Vacation

Cast: Nathalie Baye, Gérard Lanvin, Flore Fitzgerald, Michel Galabru, Jean Dasté, Marie-Louise Ebeli, Philippe Delague, Geneviève Vauzeilles, Philippe Léotard, Philippe Noiret, Jean-Claude Durand. Screenplay: Bertrand Tavernier, Colo Tavernier, Marie-François Hans. Cinematography: Pierre-William Glenn. Production design: Jean-Baptiste Poirot. Film editing: Armand Psenny. Music: Pierre Papadiamandis. 

Laurence (Nathalie Baye) is 31, just the right age for burnout and a mid-life crisis to set in. It happens as her boyfriend, Pierre (Gérard Lanvin), is driving her to her job as a schoolteacher. Something about the routine, and perhaps Pierre's rough, quippy manner, suddenly hits her the wrong way, and she bolts from the car. She winds up at the doctor, who tells her to take a break. So for the next week, Laurence takes some time off, in a kind of staycation, to reflect on her job, her relationship with Pierre, and her aging parents. But it's not that easy to take a vacation from any of them. She still lives with Pierre, she has homework to grade before her scheduled return, and encounters with her students and their parents intrude. She becomes more involved with one parent in particular, Mancheron (Michel Galabru), the proprietor of a small cafe who is concerned about his son. Bertrand Tavernier's lovely, low-key film follows Laurence through the week, sometimes with flashbacks, and while it ends with her acceptance of life as it is, we feel that she has become stronger. Baye is marvelous in the role, and Tavernier maintains a delicate balance of sadness and comedy throughout. 

Sunday, June 14, 2026

The Clockmaker of St. Paul (Bertrand Tavernier, 1974)

Philippe Noiret in The Clockmaker of St. Paul

Cast: Philippe Noiret, Jean Rochefort, Jacques Denis, Yves Afonso, Julien Bertheau, Jacques Hilling, Clothilde Joano, Andrée Tainsy, William Sabatier, Cécile Vassort, Sylvain Rougerie, Christine Pascal. Screenplay: Jean Aurenche, Pierre Bost, Bertrand Tavernier, based on a novel by Georges Simenon. Cinematography: Pierre-William Glenn. Production design: Jean Mandaroux. Film editing: Armand Psenny. Music: Philippe Sarde. 

Murders have more victims than the person who is killed. That's the crux of Bertrand Tavernier's debut feature, The Clockmaker of St. Paul. In this case it's Michel Descombes (Philippe Noiret), the father of the man accused of murder, who suffers the onslaught of publicity following the crime, the opacity of the police, the indifference of his friends, and the manipulations of the justice system. But most of all, he is tormented by his own ignorance of his son's life and character. He manages to cultivate a relationship with Guilboud (Jean Rochefort), the inspector in charge of the case, but even that is more frustrating than productive. Noiret's performance is the solid core of the film, which gets its rich texture from its setting, the city and environs of Lyon. Tavernier's avoidance of melodrama will frustrate anyone who wants pat resolutions to a story, but as a searching glimpse into other lives, the film is a quiet triumph. 

Thursday, March 7, 2024

A Sunday in the Country (Bertrand Tavernier, 1984)

Sabine Azéma and Louis Ducreux in A Sunday in the Country

Cast: Louis Ducreux, Michel Aumont, Sabine Azéma, Geneviève Mnich, Monique Chaumette, Thomas Duval, Quentin Ogier, Katia Wostrikoff, Claude Winter. Screenplay: Bertrand Tavernier, Colo Tavernier, based on a novel by Pierre Bost. Cinematography: Bruno de Keyzer. Production design: Patrice Mercier. Film editing: Armand Psenny. 

Bertrand Tavernier's autumnal A Sunday in the Country appropriately evokes several famous paintings, including Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party and Seurat's La Grande Jatte. The film's central character is a painter, M. Ladmiral (Louis Ducreux), an elderly survivor of the era in which those masterpieces were created, and some of the film's wistful tone is set by his acknowledgement that he never rose to their heights. It is a Sunday in the late summer of 1912 at his country home near Paris, and he welcomes the arrival by train of his son, Gonzague (Michel Aumont), and daughter-in-law (Geneviève Mnich) and their three children, the boisterous Emile (Thomas Duval) and Lucien (Quentin Ogier) and the somewhat petted Mireille (Katia Wostrikoff). But his daughter, Irène (Sabine Azéma), also shows up, driving her own car, and her free-spirited manner contrasts with the stuffiness of Gonzague and his wife. There are a couple of crises: Mireille somehow gets stuck up a tree, and Irène receives an upsetting phone call from her lover, whom she has been trying to reach throughout the afternoon. But mostly the film is a study of family dynamics in an era that's about to be blown away by World War I. Tavernier and his cast give the otherwise uneventful narrative a lovely, delicate tension.