Emmanuel Macron: the BFM-Mediapart interview

This post began as a Facebook exchange between me and my friend Claire Berlinski over Emmanuel Macron’s 2 hour 38 minute BFM-Mediapart-RMC interview Sunday night—excellently analyzed by Arthur Goldhammer here—that I’m shifting to AWAV. Claire, who caught snippets of the interview on RMC—I watched pretty much the whole thing on BFM—heard from her father—who lives in Paris, as does she—that the interviewers, Jean-Jacques Bourdin and Edwy Plenel, had behaved rudely toward President Macron. After an exchange on this, she wrote

I didn’t watch, but my guess would be that they felt comfortable being mouthy with him *not* because all decency and respect for the office of the presidency has broken down and we’re turning and turning in the widening gyre, but simply because Macron is so young. True, “They wouldn’t have dared to speak like that to CDG or VGE or my God even Hollande,” as my appalled father said, but one look at photos of all France’s postwar presidents, side-by-side, suggests why. It just isn’t instinctive to look at someone young enough to be your kid (as opposed to old enough to be your father) and think, “That’s an authority figure, you must show him deference.”

That Macron’s managed to become president of a country like France — where so much unconscious association is made between the presidency and the monarchy; where so much respect is naturally afforded to a certain kind of formal, older man of culture and good breeding—shows that even though Macron’s a centrist politically, and obviously an intelligent and cultured kid, the French were in a truly revolutionary mood when they put him in office. As indeed they were, given that they pretty much destroyed the ancien régime at the same time.

In some ways, if American voters said, en masse, “We’re going to show the establishment that we have so little respect for them that we’d literally rather give Bozo the Clown the suitcase than reward one of them,” the French did something psychologically very similar — although it seems much less radical to *our* minds, first because we’re Americans, so we’re more used to having younger presidents in office, and now, even religious and racial minorities; second, because Macron is so much more respectable, politically, and stable, emotionally, that we don’t see him as in any way a Trump analogue.

But I suspect, for France, putting what looks to them like a *child* in that office was a similar act of contempt and rebellion. (Although it’s a rebellion much more likely, in the end, to get them what they want: a better country to live in, with more opportunity, a higher standard of living, and more global power. Our rebellion is obviously going to achieve none of those things; quite to the contrary.)

The other thing that would have usually made him totally unelectable, but this time made him electable *precisely* because voters wanted to say, “And screw you all” to the establishment, was Brigitte. “So, these assholes all think they’re entitled to screw beautiful young mistresses while they screw the country, too? To hell with them all. Let’s replace them with a guy who barely looks old enough to shave — and who sure won’t be using our votes — or our taxpayer money — to bang Carla Bruni or Julie Gayet in the Elysée Palace, because that woman would kill him, literally.” I think that was a much bigger act of defiance, of “épater le bourgeois,” than generally appreciated.

My response to Claire:

I think you’re over-analyzing here. First, on the interviewers Bourdin and Plenel being “mouthy” with Macron and behaving rudely, I don’t think his relative youth was a factor. That’s simply the interviewing style of the two journalists in question, which is precisely why Macron specifically selected them for the event. He knew what he was getting into. He was eager to joust. If he had wanted to be treated with kid gloves and lobbed softball questions, he could have chosen any number of high profile TV news personalities known for their deference to the powerful, e.g. David Pujadas or Anne-Sophie Lapix (who interviewed François Hollande last Tuesday on France 2). And if you caught Macron’s TF1 interview last Thursday with Jean-Pierre Pernaut, you won’t have noted any mouthiness.

N.B. On the president of the republic deciding who is going to interview him on national television, in no other advanced democracy would such a thing happen. In the Western world, only in France does the president/prime minister select the journalists for such an interview. In this respect—as in almost all others—Macron has not broken with the practice of his predecessors.

On Macron’s youth—having turned 40 last December—everyone knows it, of course, but it actually hasn’t been an issue or subject of public or media discussion. And it’s not as if France hasn’t had relatively youthful presidents and PMs in recent times (e.g. Giscard d’Estaing, Laurent Fabius). Moreover, while Macron may be youthful in both age and looks, he has impeccably, almost effortlessly, slid into the role as president of France’s monarchical republic. Not even his fiercest critics would deny that he has taken on the stature, that it fits him like a glove—and far more so than his two predecessors, Sarkozy and Hollande, whose personal behavior and style (for different reasons) debased the presidency in the eyes of so many. Macron acts like a president of the republic. And, importantly, he is exceptionally bright, well-spoken, and cultivated, and with an intellectual culture—taken very seriously here, by elites and masses alike—that is head and shoulders above that of his two predecessors. As an énarque—and inspecteur de finance to boot—one would hardly expect less. He moved into the Élysée palace last May knowing exactly what to do and with a intimate knowledge of how the French state works and who is who. So on the level of form, he cuts the figure. And, to repeat, everyone knows it. So his age is simply not an issue.

As for the French people having been in a “truly revolutionary mood” in electing Macron, well, I would put it differently. The French electorate was indeed in an ornery state last year, but which was expressed not by supporting Macron’s unlikely candidacy but in giving 21.3% of the 1st round vote to Marine Le Pen and—of equal importance—an amazing 19.6% to Jean-Luc Mélenchon. If one adds the lesser candidates on the extremes, the total vote garnered by populist/extremist/anti-system candidates in the presidential 1st round was 49.6%. That is to say, fully half of the French electorate—and the turnout, at 78%, was high—cast a “fuck you” vote last April. And none of that went to Emmanuel Macron, who so utterly epitomized the “establishment,” even though he was indeed an insurgent candidate. The state of mind of the French electorate was, ergo, not so different from that of other European polities witnessing a populist surge. What was different in France was the configuration of the party and, above all, electoral systems, the latter of which could have yielded a catastrophic result but thankfully did not.

In point of fact, Macron’s victory—and I’ve written this before—was the product of a perfect storm, or of the stars perfectly aligning (choose your metaphor). It took a crazy series of serendipitous happenings over a three month period—from late November 2016 to February 2017—for Macron to be transformed from a candidate no one took seriously into a veritable homme providentiel. To recap: 1. There was the primary of the right and center in late November ’16, that Alain Juppé—the incarnation of moderate conservatism—was supposed to win handily, thus rendering him the prohibitive favorite to win the presidency the following May. But in a coup de théâtre—that no one saw coming until the very closing stretch—he was eliminated by the more right-wing François Fillon, who then became the favorite, though whose victory left a gaping hole on the center-right of the political spectrum. 2. On December 1st, François Hollande announced that he would not seek reelection. Had he done so, he and Macron would have battled for the same voters. Whatever the outcome of their mano a mano, it is unlikely that either would have made it to the 2nd round. 3. Le Canard Enchaîné, in its January 25th issue, broke the “Penelope Gate” story, which mired Fillon in inextricable scandal, all but wrecked his candidacy, and with center-right voters looking for an alternative. 4. The Socialist Party, largely discredited after five years of failure in power and bitterly divided, held its primary in late January, with the leftist Benoît Hamon pummeling the centrist (and much loathed on the left) Manuel Valls. Valls’s elimination opened more space in the center and center-left, with his voters—who either despised Hamon or deemed that he had no chance of making it to the 2nd round—largely defecting to Macron. 5. On February 22nd, the centrist, perennial presidential candidate François Bayrou announced that he wouldn’t be running a fourth time and proposed an alliance with Macron.

The upshot: A wide space on the political spectrum, from center-left to center-right, was freed up by the five above-mentioned serendipitous happenings, to be  occupied by Macron alone. And with the collapse of Hamon’s base—with leftist PS voters defecting to Mélenchon and more centrist ones to Macron—this made it so that Macron was the only acceptable 2nd round candidate to voters not on the hard left or hard/extreme right. His brand of social liberalism was a breath of fresh air to many of his voters but it is clear that a sizable portion of them supported him mainly to prevent a Le Pen-Fillon 2nd round. And his 2nd round vote was, of course, largely anti-Le Pen. As for Macron’s bilan after a year in office, I’ll address that in due course.

The “anti-imperialism” of idiots

Photo credit: Michael Fleshman/Flickr

This is the title of an excellent, must-read post on the blog of British-Syrian progressive activist Leila Al-Shami, who is, entre autres, co-author (with Robin Yassin-Kassab) of Burning Country: Syrians in Revolution and War, published by Pluto Press in 2016. Al-Shami specifies that she has “consistently opposed all foreign military intervention in Syria” but has had it up to here with the Western “anti-war” left, which opposes interventions only when the US is involved—and, of course, the really Great Satan, Israel—and supports the Syrian Ba’athist regime in the name “anti-imperialism.” As she puts it, “[t]his pro-fascist left seems blind to any form of imperialism that is non-western in origin” (here, Russia and Iran). And it doesn’t give a whit about the people of Syria, ça va de soi. As I have been fuming myself of late at this pro-Bashar, Putin-apologizing “left”—which I hold in the utmost contempt—I read Leila Al-Shami’s commentary with delectation. If you, dear reader, are a right thinking person, you will too.

More on this later.

Mireille Knoll: the silent march

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It was a ‘marche blanche’: a silent march—with no chanting or shouting of slogans—yesterday evening, in homage of Mireille Knoll, who, as one knows by now, was the 85-year-old Jewish woman who was atrociously murdered in her Paris apartment—an HLM in the 11th arrondissement—last Friday, by two men who have been arrested for the act. While their identities or motives have not yet been revealed, the police are treating it as an antisemitic hate crime. Everyone with half a conscience has been profoundly shocked: by the particulars of the crime, Mme Knoll’s age—both recalling the equally horrific murder of Sarah Halimi a year ago, and in the same part of the city—and her having narrowly escaped the Rafle du Vel’ d’Hiv as a child (and whose husband was a survivor of Auschwitz-Birkenau).

Some twenty to thirty thousand showed up for the march—a good turnout for a weekday—which went in a loop from Place de la Nation up Boulevard Voltaire, right on Rue de Charonne, down Avenue Philippe Auguste past Mme Knoll’s building and back to Nation. I took some photos, which one may see in the album here (and with commentary; click on the first photo and advance with the arrow). The majority of the marchers were Jews, though one sensed that there were proportionally more non-Jews present than at the big march for Ilan Halimi on February 26, 2006 (which I participated in). The relative absence of non-Jews at the latter was disappointing—French Jews felt let down by the seeming lack of solidarity from the larger society, particularly in view of the horrific nature of the Ilan Halimi assassination (I discuss it here and here)—so it was symbolically important that it be different this time. And it was.

The march was initiated by the CRIF, in a tweet on Monday, in memory and support of Mme Knoll’s family, and to “express the compassion of all Frenchmen and women.” Politicians from across the spectrum were present (I didn’t see them myself), including a slew of government ministers—Gérard Collomb, Jean-Michel Blanquer, Marlène Schiappa, Nicolas Hulot, and Françoise Nyssen—and representatives of parties, e.g. Christophe Castaner (REM), Laurent Wauquiez (LR), Gérard Larcher (LR), Paris mayor Anne Hidalgo (PS), and Pierre Laurent (PCF). CRIF president Francis Kalifat provoked a pointless, unfortunate polemic, however, in declaring beforehand that Marine Le Pen and Jean-Luc Mélenchon were not welcome at the march, nor any representatives of their respective parties. Requesting that Marine Le Pen not come could be comprehended—in view of her father’s and party’s history in regard to antisemitism, and which MLP has not disavowed or apologized for—but it was unacceptable in the case of Mélenchon and others in his party, La France Insoumise. The ostensible reason was the support for BDS by Mélenchon’s Parti de Gauche—the principal constituent of La France Insoumise—except that this issue has nothing whatever to do with an antisemitic crime committed in France. Kalifat was injecting politics into what was supposed to be a non-political march that united Frenchmen and women across the board. Moreover, no one has ever suggested that Mélenchon or anyone in the leadership of FI is antisemitic or has a problem with Jews. If anyone were to publicly make such an accusation, s/he could be sued for libel—and be deservedly convicted. Whatever one thinks of Mélenchon—and as AWAV readers know, I am not a fan of his—his words on Mireille Knoll have been unimpeachable, as was his powerful homage to Arnaud Beltrame in the National Assembly on Tuesday, which was roundly applauded from left to right. Kalifat’s dissing of JLM was a political error.

Libération’s invariably excellent Laurent Joffrin nailed it in a commentary yesterday, entitled La boulette du CRIF:

Pas très malin, le CRIF… Au moment où l’opinion s’émeut, tous partis confondus, du meurtre de Mireille Knoll, sans doute crapuleux mais dont la justice estime à ce stade qu’il est aussi marqué du sceau de l’antisémitisme, voilà que le Conseil déclenche une polémique subalterne et malvenue. Le cas du Front national est certes épineux quand on connaît son passé en la matière, même si Marine Le Pen se garde de toute allusion antisémite. Mais celui de Jean-Luc Mélenchon touche au grotesque. Quand le leader de La France insoumise aurait-il cédé à une mauvaise pente ? Jamais, que l’on sache. A moins d’amalgamer toute critique du gouvernement israélien à de l’antisémitisme, vieille ficelle propagandiste. Diviser quand il faut réunir : on ne saurait être plus maladroit. L’organisation communautaire a d’ailleurs été désavouée aussitôt par le fils de Mireille Knoll, plus avisé et plus généreux que ses défenseurs institutionnels. Cet homme meurtri fait plus contre le communautarisme que bien d’autres.

L’incident ne saurait détourner de l’essentiel. Les agressions contre les Français juifs sont une injure intolérable contre la République et contre l’humanité. Ce qui est intolérable doit être combattu avec la dernière énergie. Les participants à la marche blanche de mercredi le comprennent ainsi. Sursaut salutaire, alors que les Français juifs avaient jusque-là le sentiment que souvent ces agressions se déroulaient dans une relative indifférence. A l’antisémitisme de l’extrême droite, qu’on avait fait reculer, s’ajoute maintenant, comme le souligne Michel Wieviorka, un antisémitisme issu de milieux musulmans, qui tient pour beaucoup à l’obsession antijuive des courants islamistes, mais aussi à la résurgence de préjugés ancestraux, même si la grande majorité des Français musulmans s’en tiennent à l’écart. Dans ces circonstances, les Français juifs doivent savoir qu’ils peuvent compter sur la solidarité indéfectible de tous les républicains.

Watch here the declaration of Mireille Knoll’s son, Daniel, rejecting the position of the CRIF on Mélenchon et al, saying that everyone was welcome at the march.

As it happens, both MLP and JLM did show up at the march, the latter accompanied by several top FI personalities (Éric Coquerel, Clémentine Autain, Adrien Quatennens, Alexis Corbière, Raquel Garrido). JLM and his entourage had to be quickly exfiltrated by the police after being showered with insults and threats from a gang of bully boys from the LDJ (French JDL). But MLP and her contingent—which included Gilbert Collard, Louis Aliot, Bruno Bilde, and Wallerand de Saint Just—were protected by the very same LDJ militants, who want to make common cause with the FN over their mutual Muslimophobia. Incredible but true. The frontistes got booed—by marchers—were escorted onto a side street by police, to reappear in front of Mme Knoll’s building before making their getaway.

Not too many Muslims were in evidence at the march—not that one can easily tell who is who—which is hardly surprising given that it was sponsored by the CRIF. Muslims in France, be they religious or not, have a bee in their collective bonnet about the CRIF, which gets under their collective skin (I know this from extensive observations on social media over the past decade, so please don’t tell me I’m wrong, because I’m not). The explanation offered for the hang-up about the CRIF is its support of Israel—as if the peak association of a Jewish community anywhere would not identify with the Jewish state—but does not convince. It goes well beyond that. Un autre sujet.

One Muslim who was at the march—whom I saw at the end—was Imam Hassen Chalghoumi, of the mosque in Drancy. He’s controversial among French Muslims and sectors of the left—for, entre autres, his close identification with the laïcard camp (Caroline Fourest, Alain Finkielkraut et al)—but is greatly appreciated by Jews, to whom he has reached out over the past dozen years. He was applauded yesterday, with people coming up to talk with him and take selfies. C’est bien.

UPDATE: The Atlantic’s Paris-based writer, Rachel Donadio, has a piece up (March 29th) on “The meaning of France’s march against anti-Semitism.” The lede: “The murder of a Holocaust survivor is forcing the country to embrace a new, unfamiliar kind of religious and ethnic solidarity.”

2nd UPDATE: Le Monde dated March 30th, the headline of which is “Antisémitisme: la prise de conscience, et après?,” has two tribunes well worth reading. One is by Pierre Birnbaum, “Antisémitisme: il est grand temps de que l’Etat protège tous ses citoyens,” in which he says, entre autres, that antisemitism is, in fact, declining in French public opinion, while acts of violence against Jews increase. The other tribune, by Pierre-André Taguieff, carries the provocative title “Il faut penser et combattre la ‘judéophobie islamisée’.” Lots of people—including some I know—will reject Taguieff’s arguments and assertions. I will be interested to hear their refutations (though will not hold my breath waiting for them).

3rd UPDATE: Laurent Joffrin has another excellent ‘lettre politique’ (March 29th), “Pour les juifs”:

Il faut revenir sur la manifestation de mercredi qui a témoigné d’un sursaut de solidarité envers les Français juifs victimes d’agressions ou de crimes. Les incidents qui l’ont troublée ne doivent pas masquer le véritable enjeu, qui va au-delà du cas dramatique de Mireille Knoll. C’est un fait établi que les juifs français sont l’objet d’une résurgence de racisme et d’intolérance très particulière, qui pose de redoutables questions, non seulement à eux mais à tout républicain.

Onze d’entre eux en dix ans ont été tués pour la simple raison qu’ils étaient juifs. Quel groupe, quelle communauté, même si on n’aime pas le mot, a subi un sort comparable ? A notre connaissance, aucune. A cela s’ajoute le harcèlement quotidien dont sont souvent victimes ces familles, à l’école, dans la rue, dans les transports. Beaucoup d’entre elles retirent leurs enfants de l’école publique par crainte de les voir agressés ; depuis les crimes sanglants de Mohammed Merah, les écoles confessionnelles ont perdu leur statut de sanctuaire.

Marc Knobel, directeur des études du Conseil représentatif des institutions juives de France (Crif), évalue à 60 000 le nombre de juifs qui ont quitté la France en dix ans. C’est-à-dire environ 10 % des Français juifs, proportion considérable. On peut chipoter sur les chiffres ou remarquer qu’une partie d’entre eux ne s’exilent pas pour des raisons de sécurité mais pour effectuer leur alya, le retour vers la Terre promise. Cela ne change rien au fait qu’il est humiliant, angoissant, pour la République, de constater qu’une partie de ses enfants, qui en sont une composante depuis tant de générations, n’ont plus confiance en elle. On dresse parfois un parallèle entre les agressions dont sont victimes les juifs et celles qui visent les musulmans, tout aussi condamnables évidemment, et dont le nombre est comparable. Mais c’est un effet d’optique. Les Français juifs sont environ dix fois moins nombreux que les Français musulmans. Les premiers sont donc dix fois plus exposés que les seconds. A cela s’ajoute le fait qu’une grande partie des meurtres sont le fait de terroristes islamistes et qu’un antisémitisme nouveau, alimenté par les obsessions des intégristes musulmans et les réactions liées au conflit israélo-palestinien, se développe depuis de longues années. Il existe toujours un antisémitisme venu de l’extrême droite comme en témoigne le succès des vidéos postées régulièrement par Alain Soral, ou l’affluence qu’on observe aux spectacles de Dieudonné ou encore les dérapages de certains membres du Front national. Mais de toute évidence, nous sommes désormais sur deux fronts et non plus un seul.

Jusqu’à mercredi, les Français juifs avaient le sentiment de tout cela se déroulait dans une relative indifférence. Les choses commencent à changer. Il faudra aller nettement plus loin. Le 5 janvier 1895, assistant à la dégradation du capitaine Dreyfus – dans cette cour des Invalides où l’on rendait, mercredi, un hommage émouvant au colonel Beltrame – Theodor Herzl se dit que si, même en France, on pouvait assister à une telle iniquité, il ne pouvait y avoir de refuge nulle part pour les juifs, sinon dans un foyer national qui leur serait propre. Cette réflexion fut à l’origine du mouvement sioniste. Pourtant, dans les années 20 et 30, beaucoup de juifs d’Europe de l’est s’installèrent en France en se disant qu’un pays capable de se déchirer dix ans autour du sort d’un seul juif, Dreyfus, pour l’innocenter in fine et le réhabiliter solennellement, serait malgré tout une terre d’accueil. Il faut se souvenir de cette histoire. Il y a dans ce double rappel un motif de crainte mais aussi des raisons d’espérer.

4th UPDATE: Mediapart has an important two-part enquête (February 9th), by Joseph Confavreux, “Gauches et antisémitisme: la genèse d’une gêne.” The lede: “Certaines gauches en France sont régulièrement accusées de complaisance envers l’antisémitisme. Insulte infamante venant d’adversaires politiques et d’institutions juives droitisées, ou constat que ces gauches sont parfois mal équipées, voire peu motivées pour prendre en charge l’hostilité contemporaine envers les juifs?” The link to the second part, “Les gauches sont-elles aveugles à un ‘antisémitisme musulman’?,” is at the end. Definitely worth reading.

5th UPDATE: Lassana Bathily, the brave young Malian hero of the Hyper Cacher terrorist attack, attended the vigil for Mireille Knoll at the Tournelles synagogue on Wednesday. Heartwarming.

6th UPDATE: Time magazine’s Vivienne Walt has a good report (March 29th) on how “The brutal murder of a Holocaust survivor is raising anti-Semitism fears in France.”

Also see the report (March 29th) by Paris-based writer Vladislav Davidzon in Tablet, “In Paris, tens of thousands march to honor slain Holocaust survivor: Including, sadly, Marine Le Pen, who was heckled by protestors and quit the rally shortly after her arrival.”

7th UPDATE: France Inter’s Thomas Legrand had an excellent editorial on March 29th (which I missed that day), “La faute du président du CRIF,” that expresses precisely my position.

8th UPDATE: French journalist Sylvain Cypel—who was, entre autres, formerly Le Monde’s correspondent in New York—has an article in The Nation (April 6th), translated by me, “The murder of Holocaust survivor Mireille Knoll has exposed 2 toxic racisms in France.” The lede: “Along with the rise of anti-Semitism in Muslim and Arab communities, there’s growing hostility to France’s Muslims within the Jewish community, which draws its source in the defense of Israel.” Cypel, pour l’info, lived in Israel for a dozen years of his youth, attended the Hebrew University, and was a militant in the leftist Matzpen organization.

9th UPDATE: Le Monde’s Elise Vincent and Raphaëlle Bacqué have a lengthy report in the April 6th issue, “Dans l’immeuble de Mireille Knoll, les fantômes de la tranquillité perdue.” The lede: “Le 23 mars, le meurtre de la vieille dame juive a saisi d’effroi les habitants de cet ensemble paisible de 102 appartements du 11e arrondissement de Paris.”

10th UPDATE: Le Canard Enchaîné reports, on page 2 of the April 4th issue, that CRIF president Francis Kalifat had initially intended to ask only Marine Le Pen not to participate in the Marche Blanche, but then, on March 27th, two of Kalifat’s advisers, National Assembly deputy Meyer Habib and Knoll family lawyer Gilles-William Goldnadel—both French-Israeli dual nationals—successfully lobbied him to also refuse Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s presence. Pour l’info, Habib—who represents the 8th constituency of French citizens abroad (which includes Israel)—is a well-known supporter of the Israeli right-wing. Goldnadel is equally right-wing, and with both having argued for a rapprochement between the French Jewish community and the Front National.

The Russian presidential election

I normally wouldn’t have posted anything on it, hardly being a specialist on Russia or having anything original to say about what happens there, but came across this fine article in TWS, dated March 13th, by Garry Kasparov, whose analyses are always sophisticated and political viewpoints I invariably find congenial, “The truth about Putin: The March 18 elections are nothing but a sham—the Russian dictator will serve just as long as he pleases.” If you read just one thing on the Russian election, let it be this.

If you have time, also take a look at former NYT Moscow bureau chief Steven Lee Myers’s news analysis, “The poison Putin spreads,” in today’s NYT Sunday Review.

 

The Trump kakistocracy

Credit: Steve Brodner

In my December 19th post on the Deplorables I linked to a piece by Norman Ornstein on the Trumpian kakistocracy. As with most others, I was not familiar with the term ‘kakistocracy’—”government by the worst and most unscrupulous people among us”—before the 2016 campaign, when certain commentators, e.g. Paul Krugman, started to use it, warning that kakistocracy was in store for America in the unthinkable event that Trump were to win the election. That Krugman et al were prescient in their warning is the understatement of the century.

In this vein, Rolling Stone senior writer Jamil Smith has a must-read essay (March 15th), simply entitled, “The worst government possible, on purpose.” The lede: “The disastrous Betsy DeVos interview shows how much America is now on its own.” Smith begins

I worry less about Kim Jong-Un than I do Betsy DeVos. The North Korean dictator, for one, doesn’t have dominion over the educational futures of nearly 51 million elementary and secondary students and countless more in college. Barring a nuclear attack, of course, the wealthy charter-school champion is poised to play a much larger role than Kim will in determining the future of United States. The sophomoric invective he directs at us pales in comparison to the utter disrespect that President Trump demonstrated by nominating her to lead the Department of Education in the first place. To build a United States government of the worst people, one must not merely be amateurish. It requires a special hatred for America to form a kakistocracy.

I don’t think the Trump kakistocracy’s hatred is so much for America as it is for a very large number of Americans. The American right loves America; it’s Americans they hate.

Further down, Smith writes

As the most vulnerable in our society have long known, incompetence and willful disregard in Washington is common. Kakistocracies are not. Even conservatives in the Reagan era who preached the gospel of limited government saw some value in the actual practice of governance. Today, all that voters on the right seem to demand of their elected officials is headline fodder and comfort in the face of a more multicultural future. They voted less for a president than an emotion, and Trump’s results thus far bear that out. Even their few efforts to shape legislation have been darkly comical. A government that works is a pretty important thing, yet this one will always be more skilled at reproducing gruel for cable consumption than it will be at forming policy.

What both in this White House and from Republicans in Congress are giving us now is more akin to an aggressive virus than an operational Washington apparatus. Like the president they serve, DeVos and many of her fellow cabinet members have proven themselves not merely the antithesis of what their particular offices require, but a band of grifters wearing the masks of public servants as they seek to profit politically or financially from their service. Virtually every office is undergoing a hostile takeover. (…)

To read the whole piece, go here.

Continuing in the vein, NeverTrumper Republican Eliot A. Cohen has an incisive comment in The Atlantic (March 14th) on Trump’s “Team of sycophants.” The lede: “Tillerson’s dismissal leaves the White House more than ever the conniving and dishonest court of an erratic, ill-informed, and willful monarch.” Cohen concludes:

As one looks at those in and out of government who have either excused or attempted to ignore the president’s conduct, one notes only one figure who has not merely stood up to the president but in some measure thwarted him. It is someone who, like them, has pleased the president but unlike them has failed to be intimidated or even, in large measure, silenced by him. Indeed, it is someone who, unlike Sean Spicer or Michael Flynn or even Stephen Bannon, has successfully monetized an intimate association with the president.

That is, of course, the pornographic actress and director Stormy Daniels. She has demonstrated a sense of humor, shrewd judgment, and toughness. She has used the president’s own formidable skills at playing the lowest end of the television market against him. She has not been steamrollered by Trump’s flunkies. It is a sad day for the country, however, when that sorry array of Republican elders, senior officials, hypocritical preachers, and compromised intellectuals demonstrate that they lack the gumption, or indeed the self-respect, of a trollop.

In regard to the “trollop,” TheWeek.com culture critic Lili Loofbourow argues in a fun essay (March 15th) that “Stormy Daniels is crushing President Trump at his own game.” Way to go, Stormy!

On Trump’s latest kakistocratic nominee to a cabinet-level position, UC-Santa Barbara sociologist Lisa Hajjar explains in The Nation (March 16th) “Why Gina Haspel, the Queen of Torture, was able to rise to the top of the CIA.” The “why” has to do with President Obama deciding not to hold war criminals in the Bush-Cheney administration legally responsible for their criminal acts. A regrettable error.

The Trump regime’s ideologue-in-chief, Stephen Bannon, recently toured Europe, as one may be aware, during which time he spoke with journalist Nicholas Farrell of Spectator USA (March 14th), telling him that “‘I’m fascinated by Mussolini’.” Honestly, Steve, we had no idea…

On the legions of deplorables in the regime’s base, Slate’s Isaac Chotiner spoke with NeverTrumper Michael Gerson (March 13th), who wrote speeches for Bush 43, about “Why white evangelicals abandoned their principles for Donald Trump.”

Also see the piece (March 11th) by Forbes blogger and onetime Republican Chris Ladd, that was posted on the Forbes website and then taken down—by Forbes, not the author—on “Why white evangelicalism is so cruel.” Hint: it has to do with the South and slavery.

Vox’s David Roberts has a piece well worth reading (March 15th), in which he takes the NYT op-ed page to task for “not [being] honest [with its readers] about [the ugly truth of] US conservatism.”

Lest I forget, Ron Reagan, whose deceased father was once a US president, has a great slash-and-burn essay in The Daily Beast (March 6th), in case one missed it, “The problem isn’t just Trump, it’s our ignorant electorate.” The lede: “It is not effete snobbery or elitist condescension to note that ill-informed voters contributed to the current mess.” Those ignorant voters are very disproportionately to be found on one side of the political spectrum, bien entendu.

C’est tout pour le moment.

2018 Oscars

I’ve seen just about every film in the top categories. The list of nominees is here. I have a review of exactly one, Dunkirk (overrated). For the others, here’s my brief assessment, beginning with the Best Picture nominees.

The Shape of Water: I saw this just two days ago, so it’s fresh in my mind. I hadn’t read any reviews of it so didn’t know what to expect, except that it had a fantasy element, which one gleans from the trailer. I am not a fan of fantasy films and normally do not consider seeing them, though did like ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’, the one previous film I’d seen by director Guillermo del Toro, whose entire œuvre is in the genre. The verdict: I loved it (as did the highbrow/intello friend who accompanied me to the cinoche). It’s a first-rate film on several levels. First (in no particular order), the depiction of early 1960s America—which is borderline satirical—is pitch perfect: e.g. the food (or what passed for this in America at the time), TV sitcoms (aimed at audiences with a 6th grade intellect; one glimpses ‘Mister Ed’ and ‘Gilligan’s Island’, entre autres), the values conveyed by the consumer culture (e.g. the amusing sequence with the teal/green Cadillac). Second, the political critique is manifest, with the characters who incarnate state power, or simply the dominant ethos, being reactionary and antipathetic: Col. Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon, perfect in the role)—with his torture baton and references to the Bible to justify his sadism—the worrisome Gen. Hoyt, the racist cook at the diner… Trumpian America before Trump. The sympathetic characters—the good people, with a sense of humanity—are all marginals: the mute Latina cleaning woman, Elisa (Sally Hawkins, excellent); her Afro-American colleague, Zelda (Octavia Spencer); lonely gay friend, Gilles (Richard Jenkins); and, of course, the South American Amphibian Man (“The Asset”) himself—who’s more human, and with a far bigger heart, than the men who want to kill and vivisect him. And then there’s the absurdist Cold War theme, with the Soviet Keystone Cop espionage ring and Dr. Robert Hoffstetler/Dimitri (Michael Stuhlbarg), who turns out to be a sympathetic character himself—and, as a Russian, also an Other in the America of the time. Third, the cinematography—the color palette and use of light—is remarkable. The film is visually arresting: the decor (of Elisa’s and Gilles’ apartments, the laboratory) and everything else. Fourth, it’s riveting, with the suspense building as it moves toward the denouement, but also with a number of humorous, indeed hilarious, moments, e.g. Elisa telling Col. Strickland to ‘f— off’ in sign language, the Amphibian Man caressing the cats after having eaten one, the passwords of the Soviet spies (these are quite funny)… Fifth, it’s a beautiful love story. Conclusion: ‘The Shape of Water’ fully merits its 13 Oscar nominations.

Get Out. One of the best films of 2017. I’ll have a separate post on it soon, along with other Afro-American themed films.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. People—whom I know, at least—are all over the place on this one. Some loved it, others hated, and with more in between. E.g. one ultra-cinesnob friend, who rubbished it—as he invariably does with movies most people of his social class like—sniffed to me: “Frances McDormand is always fun to watch, I grant you, and I don’t even want to think what the movie would have been like without her holding it—barely—together. It’s warmed-over Coen Brothers, the umpteenth tongue-in-cheek brew of small-town eccentrics and obsessives, with extreme violence always lurking beneath the surface, and a dollop of 2017 political correctness to top it off. Not to mention the sheer implausibility of much of it (e.g., that Dixon almost kills the billboard manager in plain view and faces no more than dismissal from his job, that Mildred firebombs the police station and they believe her alibi)…” Ouf. I thought the pic was pretty good myself. It’s an entertaining second degree black comedy, with off-the-wall characters and great acting—Frances McD of course, Sam Rockwell, and Woody Harrelson, entre autres. It did indeed recall the Coen bros’ ‘Fargo’—with Frances McD and down to Carter Burwell’s music—though that one was a chef d’œuvre, which ‘Three Billboards’ is not. As for the implausible scenes, hey, it’s a (black) comedy, i.e. not to be taken in the first degree (e.g. one amusing implausibility was the rural county sheriff having an educated Australian wife). I had a slight issue with the racist cop Dixon (Sam Rockwell) finding redemption at the end—becoming an almost sympathetic character—though without having renounced his racism or made amends for “torturing n*ggers,” as Mildred (Frances McD) had snidely asked him about. But in reaction to my qualm, a (solidly left-leaning) Parisian friend responded, “The fact that the Dixon character is not a stupid nasty racist to the very end seemed to me, au contraire, to be an interesting aspect of the film and that works…” Oui, peut-être.

The Post: Is it possible not to give the thumbs up to this one? Steven Spielberg was almost performing a public service in making the film, to transmit the heroic story of a free press standing up to a rogue president—and winning—to the current younger generations. The parallel with today is more than obvious. The workmanlike Tom Hanks is good, as always, as is Meryl Streep, though she hardly merits the Oscar she’s been nominated for, as it’s just another Meryl Streep performance.

Lady Bird: This is one of those films that I liked when leaving the theater and that grew on me even more as I thought about it afterward. It’s the best, most sophisticated teenage coming-of-age film I’ve seen in a long time. The characters are all great, the dialogue complex, and the acting excellent, particularly Saoirse Ronan (the protag, Best Actress nominee) and Laurie Metcalf (the protag’s mother, Best Supporting Actress nominee). Greta Gerwig is a credible Best Director nominee. Whatever Oscars the pic wins will be deserved. Voilà, c’est tout.

Darkest Hour: I went into this one biased against it, having read Geoffrey Wheatcroft’s review essay in the NYRB, which detailed its gross distortions of the historical record, plus A.O. Scott’s skewering in the NYT, for its great man hero worship of Churchill and “fall[ing] back on an idealized notion of the English character that feels, in present circumstances, less nostalgic than downright reactionary…” I don’t doubt Wheatcroft’s critique for a second and Scott’s is well-taken, but I found the film to be great cinema nonetheless. It’s riveting from beginning to end. And Gary Oldman is exceptional as Churchill. An acting tour de force. That’s it.

Phantom Thread: I’m not a fan of Paul Thomas Anderson’s films, having liked but one (sort of) that I’ve seen by him (‘The Master’), so went into this with not high hopes, and despite the effusive recommendation from a cinephile friend whose taste I hold in the highest regard. My reaction was a little more positive than anticipated, mainly on account of Daniel Day-Lewis’ stellar performance. Il crève l’écran, as they say here. Vicky Krieps (Alma) and Lesley Manville (Cyril) are also very good. And it’s beautifully filmed—in an otherwise outmoded 1950s style—down to all the details and with an interesting portrait of the haute couture world of the era. That said, the film, while meritorious, did not knock my socks off the way it did the above-mentioned friend and others. Ça arrive. [UPDATE: After writing the above I read the review essay of the film by J.Hoberman in the March 22nd NYRB, who praises it and the director. J’en prends acte.]

Call Me by Your Name: Critics and audiences alike just love this movie, and on this side of the ocean as well as stateside. It was nice enough to watch—bringing back memories of my visits to Italy in the early-mid 1980s; and I certainly wouldn’t mind having that country home in Lombardy—but I did not find the heart of the story interesting: of the relationship beween Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and Oliver (Armie Hammer), and their respective ambiguities about their sexuality. Their summer romance did not move me. If people like the pic, I respect that, but, personally speaking, it wasn’t my cup of tea.

And then there are these:

The Florida Project: This made AWAV’s Top 10 of 2017. It’s terrific and on several levels, meriting more than its single Oscar nomination (a great Willem Dafoe for Best Supporting Actor). First, it’s a wonderful movie about children—here, age 8 and under—and their world, plus their resilience in the face of bad or irresponsible parents. Halley (Bria Vinaite) is clearly an unworthy mother—partly because, maturity-wise, she’s a child herself—but loves her daughter Moonie (Brooklynn Prince, adorable) all the same, attends to her in her own way, and Moonie loves her back. One has mixed feelings about what happens at the end, when the state social workers finally (and rightly) intervene. Second, the film brilliantly depicts the trash culture that pervades the American heartland—here, in Florida—the trash food people eat, and just the all-around trashiness one gets in America. It’s hardly surprising that so many Americans are ignorant, obese, in bad health, and/or take opioids or other narcotics. And vote for an idiot like Trump. (A parenthetical aside: numerous polities these days are witnessing populist demagogues propelled to the forefront, but only in America—in the Western world, at least—does one get a populist demagogue who is as stupid and trashy as Trump). Third—and most significantly—the film reveals the substantial American underclass that exists in view but, at the same time, out of sight, in cheap motels on suburban highways and who live a hand-to-mouth existence. Here they survive in the shadow of Disney World—a world of dreams, of monts et merveilles—but which is off limits, to which they have no access. They are, quoting Le Monde critic Isabelle Regnier, “les damnés de l’enfer néolibéral” (the wretched of the neoliberal hell). But there’s goodness and solidarity nonetheless, incarnated by motel manager Bobby (the Dafoe character). So all is not lost in l’Amérique profonde. [UPDATE: Writer Kalena Thomhave has a review essay on the film, “The poverty at Disney’s doorstep,” in The American Prospect, in which one finds some of the observations and points made above.]

I, Tonya. If the above movie depicts a general American trashiness, this one zeros in on a specific white trash family. I remember well the Tonya Harding-Nancy Kerrigan saga—given the media circus of the time, could one possibly forget?—but not all the details, e.g. who precisely did what and the extent of Harding’s personal implication. I thought this a well-done, entertaining film, and with brilliant casting, particularly Margot Robbie (Best Actress nominee) as Tonya and Allison Janney (Best Supporting Actress nominee) as her mother from hell. Great soundtrack too.

All the Money in the World. I saw this partly out of curiosity over the last minute casting switch—of Kevin Spacey being excised and replaced by Christopher Plummer (Best Supporting Actor nominee)—partly because it’s Ridley Scott (not that I see everything he does), partly because, like everyone born before 1960, I remember the story well. It’s a perfectly okay movie, with the whole thing a build-up to the awful act performed on Jean Paul Getty III by his ‘Ndrangheta kidnappers. I can’t speak to the interminable, excruciating scene, as my eyes were closed throughout (as were my friend’s). Really, who needs it? The pic may seen but may also be skipped.

And then there are these, nominated in technical categories I am not competent to express an opinion on or don’t think about:

Molly’s Game: I saw this because this it looked entertaining and had the always compelling Jessica Chastain in the lead. As far as entertainment goes, it’s empty calories. If it weren’t for Jessica C. and Idris Elba, who make it watchable, I would have decreed the pic a waste of my early January Wednesday evening.

Baby Driver: I went to see this because (a) I had a ticket at a major Paris theater chain that needed to be used by that date and (b) it received top reviews stateside and here alike. So it must have been worth seeing, right? LOL. While sitting though the pic at the packed MK2 Bibliothèque salle, I continually asked myself: Why am I here? Why am I wasting two-plus hours of my otherwise precious time sitting through this schlock drivel for the masses? Maybe I’m just too old, or too far outside the mainstream, but this just wasn’t a movie I needed to see. C’est tout.

Blade Runner 2049: I mentioned above that I am not an aficionado of the fantasy genre. That also includes science fiction and other futuristic-type films (though there are exceptions, e.g. ‘Arrival’, ‘Gravity’, among others in recent years). This one was, of course, praised to the high heavens—by critics, audiences, and friends alike—but I decided that I was simply not going to see it, as I did not like the original ‘Blade Runner’ back in ’82—I was in an ultra-minority—and couldn’t imagine that I would feel differently about this one. But when I saw the recommendation on social media by a stateside academic friend, who’s cosmopolitan, gauchiste, into post-modernism, and you name it, I thought, what the hell. So I went with my above mentioned highbrow/intello friend, who had already seen it but willingly agreed to do so again for my benefit. Rien à faire, I was bored to tears during the entire 2¾ hours. It was insufferable to watch and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Chacun son goût, très honnêtement.

Voilà my vote:

BEST PICTURE: ‘Get Out’.
‘The Shape of Water’—which will no doubt win—is a very close second, almost ex aequo. ‘Lady Bird’ is third. After that, whatever.

BEST DIRECTOR: Guillermo del Toro (‘The Shape of Water’).
This seems obvious. If one of the others wins it—particularly Christopher Nolan (‘Dunkirk’) or Paul Thomas Anderson (‘Phantom Thread’)—I will understand.

BEST ACTOR: Gary Oldman (‘Darkest Hour’).
Daniel Day-Lewis (‘Phantom Thread’) and Denzel Washington (‘Roman J. Israel, Esq.’) are ex aequo second.

BEST ACTRESS: Saoirse Ronan (‘Lady Bird’).
I was going to go with Frances McDormand (‘Three Billboards’) but changed my mind, as she’s already won this prize and for a film (‘Fargo’) and performance that were superior. Sally Hawkins (‘The Shape of Water’) is deserving.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Sam Rockwell (‘Three Billboards’).
He’ll get it.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Laurie Metcalf (‘Lady Bird’).
I was about to go with Allison Janney (‘I, Tonya’) but her role was a little too one note. I have yet to see ‘Mudbound’, so can’t speak to Mary J. Blige.

BEST DOCUMENTARY: ‘Last Men in Aleppo’.
I haven’t actually seen this but know it’s the best. The only nominee I have seen is ‘Faces Places’, which is charming.

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM: ‘The Insult’ (Lebanon).
I’m pulling for this one, as not only is it a fine film but one of the screenwriters also happens to be a friend. Will have a post on it in the coming days. ‘Loveless’ (Russia) is excellent. ‘The Square’ (Sweden) is good but doesn’t merit an Oscar. I haven’t seen ‘On Body and Soul’ (Hungary) or ‘A Fantastic Woman’ (Chile).

 

 

2018 César awards

[update below]

France’s Oscars, if one doesn’t know. The ceremony is tomorrow (Friday)—two days before the US Academy Awards, as always—at the Salle Pleyel (in the 8th arrondissement). The full list of nominees is here. Leading with thirteen nominations each are Au revoir là-haut (See You Up There) and ‘120 battements par minute’ (BPM: Beats Per Minute), followed by Le Sens de la fête (C’est la vie) with ten, ‘Barbara’ with nine, ‘Petit Paysan’ (Bloody Milk) with eight, ‘Grave’ (Raw) six, and ‘Le Redoutable’ with five. I’ve seen almost all the films in the top categories, have posts on several, and will of more, hopefully soon. For those that won’t get a post, here’s a brief mention.

Barbara, by Mathieu Amalric. A biopic of sorts of the French chanteuse—an icon in France, unknown in the US—whose heyday was in the 1960s and ’70s. I say “of sorts” as it’s a mise en abyme—a film of the making of a film about Barbara, with Jeanne Balibar (Best Actress nominee) playing the actress who plays Barbara; and Amalric (Best Director nominee) the director of the film of the film. Let me just come out and say that I disliked it. I found it insufferable and couldn’t wait for it to be over. It’s the kind of film that critics praise—as they did, including in the Hollywood press—but that regular movie-goers do not. I’m fairly conventional when it comes to biopics: I like them to proceed chronologically and cover the high points in the personality’s life—unless if it’s very specifically just of a slice of the life—and if it’s of a singer, to hear his/her best known songs. ‘Barbara’ (nominated for Best Film, BTW) does not do this. As one critic put it, the pic is “dreamlike” and “opaque,” which tells you as much as you need to know. À propos, there was also a biopic last year of the Egyptian-Italian-French chanteuse Dalida—a contemporary of Barbara’s and an icon in France herself—and that was indeed a more conventional film in the genre. It has been nominated for no Césars but audiences liked it far more than ‘Barbara’ (or the critics). I found it sufficiently entertaining myself, so on this I’m with the vox populi.

Django, by Étienne Comar. Another biopic on a famous French singer: the jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt (1910-53), played by the invariably excellent Reda Kateb (Best Actor nominee).This one focuses on a slice of his life, during the Nazi occupation of France, beginning in 1943, with Rienhardt, who was a Sinti Roma, playing publicly in Paris (mainly at the Folies Bergères) at the sufferance of jazz-loving officers in the German high command, who could have packed him off to a concentration or death camp at any moment. Advised by his mistress, Louise (Cécile de France), who’s in the Resistance, that he was in danger, Reinhardt flees with his family to Thonon-les-Bains on Lake Geneva—and where there’s a Roma encampment—to await clandestine passage to Switzerland. While in Thonon, he is forced to deal with German officers, some of whom like jazz, others who—being better Nazis—do not. It’s unclear in the film if he actually makes it into Switzerland but he did survive the war, with the final scene of him in Paris in May ’45, performing a non-jazz score he composed, “Requiem pour mes frères tsiganes,” in remembrance of the Roma who perished at the hands of the Nazis. ‘Django’ is an entertaining, well-done biopic, worth seeing for Reinhardt’s great music—of which there’s a lot in the film, played by the The Rosenberg Trio—Kateb’s performance, and as it’s an interesting story about a major musician of the 20th century.

La Promesse de l’aube (Promise at Dawn), by Éric Barbier. Yet another biopic, this of Romain Gary (played by Pierre Niney), based on his best-selling (in France) 1960 autobiographical novel, which is as much about his strong-willed mother (Charlotte Gainsbourg, Best Actress nominee), who sacrifices all for her son, as about himself. Gary (1914-80) had quite a life: a Lithuanian Jew, brought to France at age 14 and converted to Catholicism; World War II aviator who flew missions for the Free French; French diplomat in the immediate postwar era; a major literary figure and who won two Goncourt prizes (under pseudonyms); and who had a tumultuous love life—he was Jean Seberg’s second husband—was a tortured soul, and ended his life with a gunshot to the head. The stuff of novels and biopics. This one is classic in its structure. It was a box office hit in France and audiences loved it. It may be seen.

Un beau soleil intérieur (Let the Sunshine In), by Claire Denis. Isabelle (Juliette Binoche, Best Actress nominee) is a 50-something Parisian artist from les beaux quartiers (naturally), divorced (of course), and in search of true love (what else?). And though she has no problem landing lovers—she has a string of them, of various ages and professions—she cannot settle with one, as she just doesn’t know what she wants. The pic is, to quote one review, a “delightful foray into romantic kinda-comedy.” Quoting another, it is a “grownup film, inspired by…Roland Barthes [and] a sophisticated delight.” It is indeed the kind of film that critics effuse over—as they do of anything directed by Claire Denis—but that audiences do not at all. The discrepancy between the two camps is particularly striking in France, with (most) critics giving it the thumps way up and spectateurs the total opposite. As one may suspect, I’m with the latter. I found the movie trivial and a waste of time. I did not like Isabelle—perhaps partly because I’m not a big fan of Juliette Binoche to begin with—and couldn’t have cared less about her états d’âme. The mere fact that the co-screenwriter was Christine Angot, who’s a complete nutcase, should have been a forewarning. A cinephile friend of mine did like the film, however—though two others shared my view—so this is one over which reasonable persons of highbrow taste may disagree.

Numéro Une (Number One), by Tonie Marshall. Emmanuelle Blachey (Emmanuelle Devos, Best Actress nominee), also 50-something, is an ambitious engineer climbing the ladder at a major French corporation in the renewable energy sector, who succeeds in breaking through the glass ceiling to become CEO. But she then runs into all sorts of problems, not a small part of which are related to her being female in what is—and certainly in France—a very male world. It’s a feminist film, thus timely in this age of #MeToo and #BalanceTonPorc, but is not without problems. Devos is very good, as always, but I found the plot overly complicated. It’s hard to follow and one gets lost. This review gets it exactly right. The film may certainly be seen but make sure you have a scorecard and pay very close attention to who is who and who says what.

Monsieur & Madame Adelman (Mr. & Mrs. Adelman), by Nicolas Bedos. I will let THR critic Jordan Mintzer do the talking here: “Chronicling four decades in the life of a quintessentially French couple, Mr. & Mrs. Adelman reveals the highs and lows, passions and betrayals, pontifications and intellectual masturbation of a writer [Victor (Nicolas Bedos)] and his wife [Sarah (Doria Tillier, Best Actress nominee)], from the 1970s to the present day. (…) Like a bottle of supermarket red wine masquerading as a vintage Chateau Margaux, the film purports to be a classy French dramedy but winds up leaving a bad taste in your mouth. It’s filled with energy and a certain amount of wit, but its premise is so overstretched, its characters so cliched and its late third-act reversal so ridiculous, that it’s hard to take any of it seriously. (…)” Tout à fait. I wasn’t bowled over by this movie, as one may surmise, though Allociné spectateurs gave it the thumbs up (as did my wife). Chacun son goût.

Grave (Raw), by Julia Ducournau. This one’s a horror movie, which completely passed under my radar screen when it opened a year ago, and despite its very good reviews (including in the US). A mini-synopsis: Justine (Garance Marillier, Most Promising Actress nominee) is a 16-year-old overachiever from a family of militant vegetarians, who is about to enter veterinary school, where her older sister is a student. She’s never tasted meat in her life but that changes during the intense hazing of orientation week… The movie, in the words of one (tongue-in-cheek) reviewer, “tells the all-too-common tale [emphasis added] of a vegetarian woman becoming a cannibal after being forced to eat raw rabbit liver. This relatively innocent tasting quickly develops into a lust for man-flesh as…Justine turns from a naive freshman into blood-thirsty cannibal.” No less. When the pic was screened at the Toronto film festival, paramedics apparently had to be called in when members of the audience fainted. Oy vey. Reminds me of reading about George Romero’s ‘Night of the Living Dead’ back when it came out, of theaters posting warnings and shell shocked persons who saw it necessitating psychiatric intervention (I first saw it with friends in college—at a midnight screening and no doubt after having smoked an illicit substance; we thought it was a hoot). If one is an aficionado of the horror genre, then ‘Grave’ may certainly be seen. If not, then it need not be seen.

Marvin ou la Belle Éducation (Reinventing Marvin), by Anne Fontaine.
A touching film about a boy growing up in a trashy, lower class family in a village in the Vosges, who becomes aware of his queer identity as he hits puberty, is bullied at school, and has to confront the incomprehension of his IQ-challenged parents and siblings (his father is played by the very good Grégory Gadebois). Named Marvin Bijou, he is saved, as it were, by the school principal, who enrolls him in her theater class and which changes his life. He ends up in Paris in his late teens, changes his name to Martin Clément (Finnegan Oldfield, Most Promising Actor nominee), and joins an avant-garde theater troupe, helped along by nice people (including Isabelle Huppert in a cameo role, playing herself). The film is inspired by Édouard Louis’ best-selling 2014 autobiography En finir avec Eddie Bellegueule (in English: The End of Eddy).

I’ll have posts soon on Petit Paysan (excellent), Le Redoutable (better than expected), 120 battements par minute (very good), Ava (not bad), and Jeune Femme (mixed).

My ballot:

BEST FILM: ‘Au revoir là-haut’.
‘Patients’ and ‘Petit Paysan’ are worthy contenders but they’ve also been nominated for Best First Film. ‘120 BPM’ will probably win (for PC reasons).

BEST DIRECTOR: Albert Dupontel for ‘Au revoir là-haut’.
Logically.

BEST ACTOR: Jean-Pierre Bacri in ‘Le Sens de la Fête’.
Other nominees are worthy but Bacri is great and has never won this one.

BEST ACTRESS: Karin Viard in Jalouse.
There is no obvious choice here but Viard stands out in her role.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: Laurent Lafitte in ‘Au revoir là-haut’.
He’s an excellent actor and totally convincing here.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Sara Giraudeau in ‘Petit Paysan’.
Pourquoi pas? Laure Calamy (‘Ava’) is the runner-up. Adèle Haenel (‘120 BPM’) has already won this one. Anaïs Demoustier is no doubt good in ‘La Villa’ but I did not see it.

MOST PROMISING ACTOR: Nahuel Pérez Biscayart in ‘120 BPM’.
Good acting in this film, by him along with all the others

MOST PROMISING ACTRESS: Camélia Jordana in Le Brio.
A strong category this year. Iris Bry (Les Gardiennes), Laetitia Dosch (‘Jeune Femme’), and Eye Haidara (‘Le Sens de la Fête’) are all very good but Jordana is tops.

BEST FIRST FILM: Patients and ‘Petit Paysan’ ex aequo.
A coin flip here. Both are far superior to the other three nominees.

BEST DOCUMENTARY: ‘I Am Not Your Negro’, by Raoul Peck.
Hands down. I liked ‘Visages, Villages’ by Agnès Varda and JR—didn’t everyone?—and ‘Carré 35’ is compelling. I haven’t seen ‘À voix haute: La force de la parole’ or Raymond Depardon’s ’12 Jours’.

BEST FOREIGN FILM: ‘Le Caire confidentiel’ (The Nile Hilton Incident).
One of the best movies of 2017, period. The Russian ‘Faute d’amour’ (Loveless) is a close second. ‘Dunkerque’ (Dunkirk) and ‘La La Land’ are overrated, and ‘The Square’ does not merit all the awards it’s received or been nominated for. The Belgian ‘Noces’ (A Wedding) is flawed. I haven’t seen ‘L’Échange des princesses’ (The Royal Exchange); as it’s manifestly a French film, I have no idea what it’s doing in this category.

UPDATE: ‘120 BPM’ won six awards—including Best Film, as expected—and ‘Au revoir là-haut’ five. The Hollywood Reporter’s dispatch is here. Libération’s film critics, who are not too impressed with the whole spectacle, weigh in here.