L'ENNUI
Reviewed by Harvey Karten Phaedra Cinema Director: Cedric Kahn Writer: Cedric Kahn, Laurence Ferreira Barbosa, novel by Alberto Moravia Cast: Charles Berling, Sophie Guillemin, Arielle Dombasle, Robert Kramer, Alice Grey, Maurice Antoni, Tom Ouedraogo
Why do we like sex? Because it feels good? Undoubtedly. Because it is a physical expression of love for our partner? Very likely. Because it gives us a feeling of power and dominance over our confederate? Ah, there's the most mysterious aspect of the thing, the angle which lends itself to literary and cinematic manipulation. In "L'Ennui," a French movie which almost literally outruns this year's solid German hit "Run, Lola Run," the soft-core sex is frequent, the dialogue motormouth, the frenetic activity of the principal character alarmingly fleet. "L'Ennui" is a psychological thriller without guns, yet a picture which explores relationships with the psychological intensity of a rousing Hitchcock feature. Don't be misled by its title: this is a portrait of madness, of obsession, of a passion all the more unconventional because of the disparity of the sexual couple in age, temperament, and motivation.
The third film feature of Cedric Kahn, who is known mostly to a French audience for two films about teen sex "Bar des Rails and "Trop de bonheur," "L'ennui" is an adaptation of a story by the Italian writer Alberto Moravia. Moravia was one of the first novelists of this century to declare that the goal of sex was not pleasure or reproduction but rather dominance over others. Since sex sells, we're not surprised to discover that Moravia's novels have been made into films, such as Vittorio De Sica's 1961 "La Ciociara," Jean-Luc Godard's "Le Merpris," or "Contempt," and Bernardo Bertolucci's "The Conformist."
Charles Berling, running through the central role like a horny and otherwise demanding middle-aged guy on speed, turns in a dynamic performance as a 40-something professor of philosophy. Martin, who, despite the rigorous training he presumably received in ontology and epistemology, is not above asking a waiter in a cafe, "If a woman stands up a guy, does it mean she does not love him?" ("Not necessarily," says the waiter, obviously knowing how to tell the distraught customer what he wants to hear.) Martin, who maintains a friendship with his ex-wife Sophie (Arielle Dombasle), uses the slim, sophisticated Parisian woman as a sounding board for his new obsession. By accident, he meets the plump, uncomplicated Cecilia (Sophie Guillemin) in the apartment of a 65-year-old painter who has just died. We learn later that the 20-year-old Cecilia's physical demands were just too much for the aging artist. The professor is intrigued by this placid but promiscuous youth--who seems positively unconcerned about the ethics of her actions and seemingly as blase about bedding her partners as she would be about relieving herself. Martin knows enough about himself to be aware that he wants to possess this woman, but here's the great paradox so skillfully brought out by Berling: the more he makes love to the object of his desire, the less he possesses her. Cecilia, who at first is agreeable to meeting Martin daily for the sessions on the bed or against the wall, drives him to the point of insanity when she begins to draw back and to acknowledge that she loves another man, Momo (Tom Ouedraogo) as much as she cares for Martin. "You can't," cries Martin, "Our semen mixes in your stomach!"
The picture is loaded with lines of that nature which come across as unintentional humor but which, on reflection, are creations of genuine waggery by Kahn and his co-writer, Laurence Ferreira. As the couple doomed by a conflict of temperaments, Charles Berling and first-timer Sophie Guillemin evoke the frustrations the complex man must face when confronted by a girl who is the pillar of simplicity. "What do you think of me?" Martin wonders aloud. "I don't know--tons of stuff," replies Cecilia. Multiply this dialogue 20, 30, 40 times as the philosopher undertakes futilely to gain answers from a woman with nary a shred of complexity and you can readily believe that Cecilia is well on her way to driving her second lover to self-destruction.
The script is clever enough to contain several ironies. Martin has access to the girl's body but not her mind. Though he at first wants her only for physical release, he is increasingly baffled, even foiled, by her inability or unwillingness to share verbally with him. Now there's a gender switch on the usual men-are-from-Mars-women-are from Venus hypothesis! This is not the usual French romance featuring a seductive vamp who drives a needy man nuts by her physical unavailability, but one that subverts the expected by highlighting a most ordinary, barely attractive young woman pursued avidly by a man unable to extract answers to his demanding and increasingly vehement questions. Director Kahn throws in a Fellini-esque scene of Cecilia's father, a mute who is dying of laryngeal cancer, the purpose of which becomes clear only near the conclusion. "L'Ennui" is anything but enervating viewing for its intelligent targeted audience.
Not Rated. Running Time: 120 minutes. (C) 1999 Harvey Karten
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