NYFF - Poison Friends and Marie Antoinette

POISON FRIENDS
Director: Emmanuel Bourdieu, Country: France, Release: 2006, Runtime: 107 min.
Cruel Intentions minus the sex and thrills

Heady intellectual youth fret and fray over whether they are worthy of analyzing literary geniuses in their coursework. Worse yet, their peer and idol, André, bullies them into doubting they should ever write at all. Eloi seems to bathe in André, worshiping him in a destructive way. Eloi even throws out his own novel under the pressure of feeling utterly incompetent. At least Alexandre seems to find an escape from André by changing his major to acting. André soon starts to unravel, disappointing his advisor to the level of failing. He lies to Eloi and others, saying he is off to America to work at Berkeley. If only this were true, thus saving us from an already teadious and pretentious film about the self-absorbed, youthful literati of Paris. Bourdieu never explores the texture and nuances so interesting in nefarious characters. André and all the idiots who flock around him just seem monotonistically haughty and droningly snooty. They all deserve each other and the sick way André treats them and himself. Avoid this obnoxious mess.

DISH: Isn't just awkward when I hate a film but love the director's Q&A? Emmanuel Boudieu was so extremely nice signing my program; he was the only director to add my name and a salutation to his autograph. He truly gave off a caring attitude towards his fans.

preceded by
CHRONICLE OF A JUMP
Zohar Lavi, Israel/USA, 2005, 10 min.
Boring, long sequence of a girlfriend watching her boyfriend contemplate a jump from a reservoir cliff. Interestingly, the only fun part of this film was during the rolling credits. The director finally enjoyed herself by simply putting in clips of many swimmers jumping in their own style from the cliff into the inviting water.

MARIE ANTOINETTE
Director: Sofia Coppola, Country: USA, Release: 2006, Runtime: 123 min.
Masterpiece Theatre costumer designers highjack a few MTV videos

Sofia Coppola is a master at ambiance. In Virgin Suicide she expertly captured suburban girl angst and unsettling teen sexuality in the early 1970s. Her sophmore film, Lost In Translation, the story was soaked in the melancholy humor of Tokyo neon nights and hotel-lonely days. Her new film, Marie Antoinette, has the sumptuous backdrop of Versailles and a foreground filled with pastries and pastel-colored satin gowns. Unfortunately there is no story. A young Marie (Kirsten Dunst) enter the court of Louis XVI, waits for her husband to perform his duties, whiles away her time shopping, eatting, and frolicing with girlfriends until the mob comes to her balcony with torches. Kirsten Dunst is horribly cast as a pouty puff pastry, only emoting a smile and two slumps down ornate palace walls during difficult times. By difficult times, I mean annoying pressure by her mother and brother to get her husband to service her. She brought no zest, bravada, or spark to the film which it soarly needed as it was only a character film. And the rest of the cast, with the small exception of Shirley Henderson, was lackluster as well. Molly Shannon? What was Ms. Coppola thinking? She never found the heart for this story so instead, she gives us a few 1980's New Romantics pop songs, raided BBC's wardrobe closet (literally; watch the credits!), stole Terrence Mallick's shots of wandering in nature, and tied everyone up in more satin than Pink, Christina, Mya, and Lil'Kim combined. Adding a Bow Wow Wow's hit I Want Candy to a shoegasim scene, with a lavender Converse Hi Top in the pile, pushed this over into camp. Too bad none of the other scenes embraced the campy potential of this teen, pop-princess take on Marie. My teeth started aching after three hours of this empty, sugarcoated, meringue mess.

DISH: Sofia looked great, preggers wearing a fabulous black satin pleated babydoll evening dress. She even took time to sign my program as she entered Alice Tully Hall. Kirsten wore a black silk shift with low-cut back and open shoulders. Unfortunately her posture ruined the gown; her sholder tension pulled her neck into her body making her shrink like a turtle. During the Q&A she word a black tuxedo jacket over the dress, hiding the beautiful line of the dress. This dork next to me, who brought his mother to the film, gushed and gushed on how daring, daring, daring (he actually used this word 12 times) this film was. BLECK. He had no question for the panel, only accolades for Sofia. He gushed about how no one in Hollywood would make such a wonderful film. Is he kidding? This is exactly the type of crap Hollywood hopes will be the next Titanic! And while it pains me to say this, at least Titanic had a plot. Wealth and privledge, unearned and flaunted on screne? Has this man never watched any of the reality TV shows of late?

Sofia Coppola compared her version of Marie Antoinette to a punk. Kirsten Dunst saw her protrayal of Marie as a progression from girl to woman. Both these statements do not rung true to what they actually brought to the final film. If Marie were classic punk, we should have more scenes of rebellion and individualish without polishing ones words or exterior to please anyone in the establishment. I think Ms. Coppola may have confused avant garde fashion choices and an "I don't give a shit" attitude with punk. And Ms. Dunst never brings a full arch or shift in demernor to her portrayal of Marie. In one scene of Marie facing the mob under her balcony at Versaille we are suppose to believe she has learned something? Grown into a woman? This is unearned and unmotivated. Nothing in the earlier two hours has given us any reflection that Marie is anything more than a spoiled child. Even when she enjoyed a 'cottage' phase and cut down on her satin gown usage, we never believe such reflected moments, reading from naturalists' writings, that it is anything more than a passing phase, like smoking Clove cigarettes or wearing lace corsets with crucifix jewelry. I think the director and crew were high on fashion, or other things, while making this hazy, unfocused blob.