La Captive
Yeah, this is just not really a good movie. I have a thing for Chantal Akerman, but then again I don’t. To be perfectly truthful, I am watching this film because of Stanislas Merhar. When I was much younger, I used to like the “Comte de Monte-Cristo” mini-series with Gérard Depardieu, where Merhar was Albert de Morcerf. In the book he never stood out to me as a character, and in the mini-series they turned him into a whiny little douchebag. I have always been wondering if it was just the actor being strange or if he was acting strange. Stanislas Merhar never really did anything else of note. I was surprised to stumble upon this, and I found myself obsessing with him as an actor in the film.
Sylvie Testud might be a good actress, but most of the film actually relies upon Merhar’s character. Calling Simon crazy is an understatement, and Merhar plays him beautifully in my opinion. He does have this strange way of swinging his arms and shoulders heavily when he walks, and maybe his role in “La Captive” is not too different from the one of the weak, troubled young man, but I don’t disapprove of that. His inquiring way of asking questions, the restlessness of his mind reflected in the way he wanders around – always following Ariane, but rather following an image he projects onto her rather than herself. He follows her so closely that she feels it and he does not appear to truly want to hide that. Bottom line – this man is openly creepy, the key ingredient of any good French film on obsessive love.
I have a thing for dark, obsessive love in movies. “Lolita”, “A short story about love”, even “Vertigo” – they are all great because the main characters act in a way people would be creeped out by in real life. But in art, we can indulge in these actions, analyze them, perhaps also condemn them, but ultimately what we really want is to sympathize with them within the realms of the film. Every one of these films is a little painful, because obsessive love must be dark. Yet love is always painful… Towards the end, when the couple is about to separate, he tells her to admit to her lies. His inability to trust and the way it troubles him – that dialogues at the end of the film hit home pretty well and it reminded me of my teenage angst from 10 years ago.
Style-wise I thought the movie was pretty lovely. With a backdrop of old-style Parisian apartments, the film is full of beautiful women and a lingering eroticism between them is actually always present. How French, isn’t it?
Now “La Captive” cannot be compared to those masterpieces about love, and without ever having read Proust, I guess the film also cannot compare to the book (just like no “Monte Cristo” film could ever be comparable to the book), but that is alright for I don’t know the book. It’s one of these silly films I like for no particular reason.
PS. Speaking of obsession, I think one of the nicest obsessive love stories is Snape’s in the last Harry Potter book. He single-handedly redeems the house of Slytherin, the actually most likable house of all. Slytherin is for all those calm, smart and nerdy introvert, not like those Gutmensch-y Gryffindors full of mischief. Yet the Gryffindor spirit is what we envy, the carefree positiveness, the willingness to act rather than to ponder, the place in the sun. For this winter I am considering knitting scarves again, one in Ravenclaw, one in Gryffindor and one in Slytherin colors.