THE DREAMERS
THE DREAMERS
May 8 and 9 2010, DVD, home living room, from Netflix
I'm writing a novel right now, centered on exploring the complexities of the beginning, middle, and end of a three-person romantic and sexual relationship. So I'm watching some movies (and reading books) positing this experience, so that I have something to bounce my brain off of. I was hoping, of course, to steal some elements as well, and possibly overcome my hurdle of What To Call The Damn Thing, but so far I'm not seeing anything really similar to my own ideas. Which, in a lot of ways, is good, because it means I'm not treading the same ground already plowed by more established artists; but also is kind of annoying, since none of these projects is as good as I'd hoped they would be.
THE DREAMERS is a fine example of that. Some of the necessary elements are there - a trio of young, impossibly-good looking weirdos; something of a commitment to candor and a refusal to flinch at explicit depictions of sexuality; Bernardo Bertolucci. And yet... this movie isn't particularly sexy at all, somehow, and as great (and naked, and tumescent) of a performance as go-to nudie queerbait Michael Pitt turns in, it doesn't convince. I even went back to the source material, a 1988 novel by Gilbert Adair, searching for real shagging, romance, and twisted kink, and while it's got a lot more elaborate sex scenes and a lot more unflinching depictions of icky, scatological, Sadean madness, the book doesn't entirely convince, either. So I'm going to blame it all on Adair.
It should have worked, y'know? The story is set (importantly) in May 1968 Paris, on the very eve of revolutionary action by young people that radically changed the tenor of an entire country, and tells the story of Matthew, a film-obsessed, hapless American student who falls in love with a set of similarly film-obsessed, wilful, crazy, incestuous twins, played by Eva Green (who is lovely, but not as gorgeous as she is in CASINO ROYALE) and Louis Garrel (who is gorgeous, but meh). When the twins' parents go off to their summer house, they bring Matthew to live with them in their spooky apartment, and then proceed to play movie-quote games, mess with each other's heads (and bodies), and retreat so completely from the outside world that they have no idea that a revolution is going on just outside their doors. I mean - seriously, this should be fucking brilliant, right?
It's not. It's kind of boring. It doesn't work. It's limp vegetables that should be crisp. It's not shocking. It's not ferociously sexy or scary or anything I'd want to have anything to do with. I should have wanted to jump right into the bathtub with the three of them and re-enact FROM HERE TO ETERNITY with a flying soapdish. Instead I just wanted them all to pick up that check that their parents left for them, go out to the goddamn shop, and get some bread and brie, and go get with the revolution. Michael Pitt has rarely been lovelier, and I did appreciate getting a gander at Pitt Jr. (I was going to say "li'l Pitt", but there's nothing li'l about it...) but it all just lacks drama, and the tension of worrying about the parents coming back and busting them, or having the place get tear-gassed, or wondering if Theo was finally going to fuck the shit out of Matthew (or his sister, for that matter) just made me impatient, not invested.
I can't really blame Bertolucci for the failure of the story; the movie's good-looking in that brownish, gloomy, filthy Bertolucci way (see also: LAST TANGO IN PARIS or 1900). On the other hand, Bertolucci did direct LITTLE BUDDHA, starring master thespian Keanu Reeves. But still. I'm just going to blame Gilbert Adair. That seems about right.
May 8 and 9 2010, DVD, home living room, from Netflix
I'm writing a novel right now, centered on exploring the complexities of the beginning, middle, and end of a three-person romantic and sexual relationship. So I'm watching some movies (and reading books) positing this experience, so that I have something to bounce my brain off of. I was hoping, of course, to steal some elements as well, and possibly overcome my hurdle of What To Call The Damn Thing, but so far I'm not seeing anything really similar to my own ideas. Which, in a lot of ways, is good, because it means I'm not treading the same ground already plowed by more established artists; but also is kind of annoying, since none of these projects is as good as I'd hoped they would be.
THE DREAMERS is a fine example of that. Some of the necessary elements are there - a trio of young, impossibly-good looking weirdos; something of a commitment to candor and a refusal to flinch at explicit depictions of sexuality; Bernardo Bertolucci. And yet... this movie isn't particularly sexy at all, somehow, and as great (and naked, and tumescent) of a performance as go-to nudie queerbait Michael Pitt turns in, it doesn't convince. I even went back to the source material, a 1988 novel by Gilbert Adair, searching for real shagging, romance, and twisted kink, and while it's got a lot more elaborate sex scenes and a lot more unflinching depictions of icky, scatological, Sadean madness, the book doesn't entirely convince, either. So I'm going to blame it all on Adair.
It should have worked, y'know? The story is set (importantly) in May 1968 Paris, on the very eve of revolutionary action by young people that radically changed the tenor of an entire country, and tells the story of Matthew, a film-obsessed, hapless American student who falls in love with a set of similarly film-obsessed, wilful, crazy, incestuous twins, played by Eva Green (who is lovely, but not as gorgeous as she is in CASINO ROYALE) and Louis Garrel (who is gorgeous, but meh). When the twins' parents go off to their summer house, they bring Matthew to live with them in their spooky apartment, and then proceed to play movie-quote games, mess with each other's heads (and bodies), and retreat so completely from the outside world that they have no idea that a revolution is going on just outside their doors. I mean - seriously, this should be fucking brilliant, right?
It's not. It's kind of boring. It doesn't work. It's limp vegetables that should be crisp. It's not shocking. It's not ferociously sexy or scary or anything I'd want to have anything to do with. I should have wanted to jump right into the bathtub with the three of them and re-enact FROM HERE TO ETERNITY with a flying soapdish. Instead I just wanted them all to pick up that check that their parents left for them, go out to the goddamn shop, and get some bread and brie, and go get with the revolution. Michael Pitt has rarely been lovelier, and I did appreciate getting a gander at Pitt Jr. (I was going to say "li'l Pitt", but there's nothing li'l about it...) but it all just lacks drama, and the tension of worrying about the parents coming back and busting them, or having the place get tear-gassed, or wondering if Theo was finally going to fuck the shit out of Matthew (or his sister, for that matter) just made me impatient, not invested.
I can't really blame Bertolucci for the failure of the story; the movie's good-looking in that brownish, gloomy, filthy Bertolucci way (see also: LAST TANGO IN PARIS or 1900). On the other hand, Bertolucci did direct LITTLE BUDDHA, starring master thespian Keanu Reeves. But still. I'm just going to blame Gilbert Adair. That seems about right.