Coeurs - Private Fears in Public Places
Coeurs has gone under another title by which it was released in cinemas - Private Fears in Public Places. The two titles give some idea of the tone of the film, a seemingly romantic air is characterised by Coeurs ("Hearts") while Private Fears in Public Places suggests anxiety and embarrassment. Coeurs is neither wholly cheery, nor totally dark. Instead, the film offers a peculiar mixture of whimsy and gravity, of breeziness and solemnity. Director Alain Resnais has concocted a feather-light consideration of love and the heartache and uncertainty that accompanies it. It's such an engaging and lightly humorous film that it is almost a rude awakening when the characters are disappointed in their pursuit of happiness. Despite the seemingly conflicting themes within the story this is one of the director's most accessible works. Resnais adroitly marries his typically modernist flourishes (he's not shy about exposing the artifice of the cinematic process) with the sometimes farcical romantic fare, resulting in an oddly satisfying combination - a soufflé with substance!
Coeurs has a simple structure in which couples come together and interact in a series of vignettes. There is Thierry (André Dussollier), an estate agent who has a secret attraction to his assistant, Charlotte (Sabine Azéma). Nicole (Laura Morante), who is searching for an apartment to share with her forever boozing fiancé, Dan (Lambert Wilson). Dan frequents a hotel bar operated by Lionel (Pierre Arditi), whose father is an invalid and is cared for by Charlotte. Finally, Thierry's sister, Gaëlle (Isabelle Carré), is a lonely-heart who posts personal ads in search of a partner (she will eventually meet Dan via this process). Though these relationships sound convoluted and, perhaps a little confusing when expressed so glibly, Resnais has constructed them in a manner that never seems manipulated. Through the course of the narrative Thierry will try to seduce Charlotte; Dan and Nicole will rethink their engagement; Lionel will come to terms with his father's mortality; and Gaëlle will find, what appears to be, true love.
The vignette structure of Coeurs is attributable to the theatrical origins of the source material. The film is based upon the work of British playwright Alan Ayckbourn. There are over 50 short scenes and no exterior shots throughout the film. Though not as artificial as the overtly stylised Lars Von Trier film, Dogville, the stage origins of Resnais' film are not concealed. Many of the sequences are presented in artificial colour, with affected lighting schemes emphasising the staginess of the production. Coeurs is also shot with a soft focus that gives the actors a fuzzy unreality that almost suggests fantasy. Additionally, the transitions from scene to scene are typically pronounced by the trickle of synthetic snow in front of the camera lens, an indication of the season and a metaphor for the cold reality of life and love. The manner by which Resnais connects the characters reflect a "merry-go-round" view of relationships - a theme that will be familiar to those who have seen Crash and Magnolia. Each of the characters comes into contact with at least one of the other characters outside of their natural pairings. For instance, Thierry's sister, Gaëlle, meets Dan, who is engaged to Nicole - Thierry's client. These kinds of connections occur throughout the film and punctuate the circular metaphor that Resnais is keen to explore.
Furthermore, the structure of the film permits some wonderful ensemble acting. This is an actor's film in which each performer is given plenty of scope to craft a memorable character. All the scenes in Coeurs are produced on dressed sets, and the camera often passively witnesses the characters' interactions. This approach stresses the theatricality of the production, as if the viewer is in the stalls. Largely, the performances are first-rate with Dussollier a stand-out as a scatty romantic who cannot quite determine whether his assistant is flirting with him or not. When Charlotte presents him with a video-tape of a religious program, Thierry is aghast and a little intrigued by the softly-pornographic material that follows the recording. Unsure of whether it was Charlotte's intention for him to see the racy content, Thierry remains uncertain about her motives for giving him the tape. Such farcical fare suggests a much lighter film than is finally presented. When Charlotte's intentions are revealed, there is a darkly calculating undercurrent that Resnais might be suggesting characterises all human interaction.
Resnais' interest in exposing the artifice of the storytelling process is reflected in symbolism that some viewers may find a little too obvious. Many of the scenes are constructed around physical partitions - the opaque glass walls of Thierry's office, the beaded curtains hanging in the hotel bar - that represent the divides that typify our lives as discreet human beings. This pessimistic attitude fuels a melancholy that hangs over the interaction of many of the characters. The split between Dan and Nicole, for instance, is represented without light attention or genial good humour. And the possible romance between Dan and Gaëlle is presented with genuine need and yearning, despite the clichéd blind date setting (normally a rich source for humour). Ultimately, the odd combination of whimsy and darkness can be attributed to the French-ness of the filmmaking and the British-ness of the material.
Though Coeurs can sometimes seem to be in disharmony with itself, it is never anything less than entertaining and fascinating. It is particularly well-crafted and it has an internal rhythm that propels it along at a pleasurable rate. Resnais' structural design, a kind of series of cinematic rhyming couplets, is supported ably by a strong cast of tried and true professionals from the French stage and film tradition. Coeurs' strange amalgamation of gentle humour and cynical subtext give it an added edge that will appeal to many film viewers interested in a novel view of love and its bitter disappointments.
Coeurs has a simple structure in which couples come together and interact in a series of vignettes. There is Thierry (André Dussollier), an estate agent who has a secret attraction to his assistant, Charlotte (Sabine Azéma). Nicole (Laura Morante), who is searching for an apartment to share with her forever boozing fiancé, Dan (Lambert Wilson). Dan frequents a hotel bar operated by Lionel (Pierre Arditi), whose father is an invalid and is cared for by Charlotte. Finally, Thierry's sister, Gaëlle (Isabelle Carré), is a lonely-heart who posts personal ads in search of a partner (she will eventually meet Dan via this process). Though these relationships sound convoluted and, perhaps a little confusing when expressed so glibly, Resnais has constructed them in a manner that never seems manipulated. Through the course of the narrative Thierry will try to seduce Charlotte; Dan and Nicole will rethink their engagement; Lionel will come to terms with his father's mortality; and Gaëlle will find, what appears to be, true love.
The vignette structure of Coeurs is attributable to the theatrical origins of the source material. The film is based upon the work of British playwright Alan Ayckbourn. There are over 50 short scenes and no exterior shots throughout the film. Though not as artificial as the overtly stylised Lars Von Trier film, Dogville, the stage origins of Resnais' film are not concealed. Many of the sequences are presented in artificial colour, with affected lighting schemes emphasising the staginess of the production. Coeurs is also shot with a soft focus that gives the actors a fuzzy unreality that almost suggests fantasy. Additionally, the transitions from scene to scene are typically pronounced by the trickle of synthetic snow in front of the camera lens, an indication of the season and a metaphor for the cold reality of life and love. The manner by which Resnais connects the characters reflect a "merry-go-round" view of relationships - a theme that will be familiar to those who have seen Crash and Magnolia. Each of the characters comes into contact with at least one of the other characters outside of their natural pairings. For instance, Thierry's sister, Gaëlle, meets Dan, who is engaged to Nicole - Thierry's client. These kinds of connections occur throughout the film and punctuate the circular metaphor that Resnais is keen to explore.
Furthermore, the structure of the film permits some wonderful ensemble acting. This is an actor's film in which each performer is given plenty of scope to craft a memorable character. All the scenes in Coeurs are produced on dressed sets, and the camera often passively witnesses the characters' interactions. This approach stresses the theatricality of the production, as if the viewer is in the stalls. Largely, the performances are first-rate with Dussollier a stand-out as a scatty romantic who cannot quite determine whether his assistant is flirting with him or not. When Charlotte presents him with a video-tape of a religious program, Thierry is aghast and a little intrigued by the softly-pornographic material that follows the recording. Unsure of whether it was Charlotte's intention for him to see the racy content, Thierry remains uncertain about her motives for giving him the tape. Such farcical fare suggests a much lighter film than is finally presented. When Charlotte's intentions are revealed, there is a darkly calculating undercurrent that Resnais might be suggesting characterises all human interaction.
Resnais' interest in exposing the artifice of the storytelling process is reflected in symbolism that some viewers may find a little too obvious. Many of the scenes are constructed around physical partitions - the opaque glass walls of Thierry's office, the beaded curtains hanging in the hotel bar - that represent the divides that typify our lives as discreet human beings. This pessimistic attitude fuels a melancholy that hangs over the interaction of many of the characters. The split between Dan and Nicole, for instance, is represented without light attention or genial good humour. And the possible romance between Dan and Gaëlle is presented with genuine need and yearning, despite the clichéd blind date setting (normally a rich source for humour). Ultimately, the odd combination of whimsy and darkness can be attributed to the French-ness of the filmmaking and the British-ness of the material.
Though Coeurs can sometimes seem to be in disharmony with itself, it is never anything less than entertaining and fascinating. It is particularly well-crafted and it has an internal rhythm that propels it along at a pleasurable rate. Resnais' structural design, a kind of series of cinematic rhyming couplets, is supported ably by a strong cast of tried and true professionals from the French stage and film tradition. Coeurs' strange amalgamation of gentle humour and cynical subtext give it an added edge that will appeal to many film viewers interested in a novel view of love and its bitter disappointments.
A soufflé with substance
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