[Code inconnu: Récit incomplet de divers voyages] 2000 - France Director Michael Haneke Starring Juliette Binoche

Here’s why I love Haneke, although I wouldn’t be surprised if others see him differently: he is uncompromising, relentless, and fierce in the way he presents information, but ultimately he leaves everything entirely up to the viewer. I find him an extraordinarily even-handed director, who is trying to engage with, converse with the viewer. He is not trying to convince, or send a message. So I “trust” him in a strange way… it’s the same way I gave myself over to Greenaway in Cook, Thief. There is violence, there is shock, but it comes from someplace honest and I love guys like this for sharing with me that kind of experience.

Anyway as to this particular Haneke: it is a bit rough and at times even unintelligible — certainly by design, though I see Glassman’s point that not every scene feels essential. This interests me though… a movie like this could have been edited dozens of, even countless ways. It makes me wonder why this cut. Gee I wish there’d been a commentary…

I share his interest in exploring communication, and the ways we close ourselves off from one another… there is literally a kind of code unknown between us, say in the apartment code Anne gives out which may or may not be correct. The physical walls between us seemingly absolve us of the need to intervene in the lives of those around us (as when she goes on ironing although she suspects a child is being beaten) and when we intrude on those barriers anyhow, it is either socially unacceptable (the young man who tries to stand up for the woman on the street) or a kind of casual violence (the teenager on the subway). In every aspect of our lives I suppose there is this code we choose to or (more often) choose not to give to those around us — so easy to cut off the lines of communication and personal truth. Lots of interesting stuff, too, in how he represents reality and destabilizes what the viewer implicitly trusts while watching a film.

This is probably one of the most effective films with a large, interwoven cast and non-linear narrative, two often abused techniques but when they work they work.

I feel like I’m missing something here, because this is obviously an intentionally batty film, but oh dear lord it was painful to sit through. Strange thriller? psychological critique? comedy? about a young boy who suddenly decides he is the son of a woman who lost her child two years ago. She thinks so too. I’m cool with a couple loons in a film but no one in the whole cast of characters does a single sensible thing throughout… do I need a movie like this to make sense? Or is it fair to say, a woman tries to claim your son is hers and you file for a restraining order, period, end of film? (You really do not indulgently ask her to move in with you. No. No.) Unpleasant nonsense.

I see why Pialat is called the French Cassavetes, though such comparisons annoy me. He’s a fine director in his own right, just as Chabrol is very much apart from Hitchcock. But a similar kind of free and authentic vibe is there, and in his work, too, there are characters who act strangely but utterly believably. Loulou is a fascinating creation, a guy who lives with no moral foundation. He acts according to his inclination: he doesn’t work, he loves freely, he feels truthfully. Nelly is a modern working girl who casts aside her long-term boyfriend and normal life casually and without regret. Their affair begins instinctively and continues organically. It is strange that they should even be attracted to one another, let alone develop a profound attachment. But it works for them, and they define a way of loving and living outside of convention. “I don’t want to change him,” Nelly says. “I make money, so it’s right that I pay.” (This is a major interest of mine, I suppose… subjective moralities, I might call it.) A perfectly played moment of crisis comes when reality and others’ opinions intrude, but it is resolved in a truthful, simple, wonderful way.

This isn’t a case of a film being other than what I thought it’d be. But it is other than I’d have it be: I go in knowing it’s an 85-min drama about a woman’s infidelity in which we never see the other man, and which begins with the simple premise of her pulling her hand away when her partner reaches for it in a theater. I’d have it be a Bergman-via-Allen chamber drama.

Alas, no — from the start I’ll settle for glossy light verite. It is absorbing though not for depth or truth — aside from what the actors bring to it — but for a certain honest simplicity. Ultimately it seems we do not meet the other man because it isn’t really the story of a separation, but that story from the man’s point of view. If I have any direct critique to make it is that the film tries a bit too hard to sway one into siding with him, into the “message” that custody law sucks. This violates that honest simplicity that is the film’s real strength — and which anyway doesn’t amount to much. No, the film doesn’t amount to much but it is a satisfying watch.

I often find myself hedging between two ratings and choose up or down based on one specific little thing: in this case the film gets the bump up because (spoiler, LOL) he never makes out with the babysitter. Unless he does after the credits: the existential anomaly of being passed over by two dozen cabs in a row seemed to persuade him to walk back to one woman or the other. Oh well! The film satisfies but doesn’t leave me with burning questions.

Extraordinarily smart and hilarious screenplay, certainly one of the great gems of old Hollywood romantic comedies. Has more substance to it than most, as well, and the serious bits are well-integrated and well-motivated, never preachy. Fine performances from the whole cast really, William Powell as praiseworthy as ever and while Carole Lombard did strike me as a bit off-key, she is ultimately lovable as the dizzy society girl.

*Requires a rewatch — for being fun as hell, of course, but also because I suspect Lombard’s screwball may have been an acquired taste for me. I have since acquired it: oh yes, she’s fabulous.