82. The Hurt Locker (2009)

Plot Intro

Iraq, 2004. During the Iraq War, a team of bomb disposal experts gain a new member - Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner). We then follow them in a series of dangerous missions during the final days of their rotation in Iraq.

Doug says...

Our first Best Picture directed by a woman - and more shockingly, still the only one - The Hurt Locker is a War Film. Following a team of bomb disposal experts in Iraq, we see explosions, tense battle scenes, and lots of the usual ‘men being men’. Nothing feels particularly new in terms of what’s being discussed and although the film touches on the long-term mental damage that can be done to these people, it ultimately shies away from it. 

Criticism has been made of this film that despite showing the gore and damage of war, it somehow ultimately glamorises it. I’d actually agree with this, and reading a bit about Kathryn Bigelow and her obsession with violence backs it up. It’s an action film first, and the main character - Sergeant James - is drawn to it in what is clearly an unhealthy relationship but which is never fully explored. 

Unsatisfying and ultimately irresponsible as a war film, The Hurt Locker does impress as an action movie. The tense scenes where soldiers and insurgents shoot at each other are strong, and the more unusual angle of the bomb disposal team means there’s variety to the scenes rather than endless marksmen eyeing each other down. 

Bigelow toys with the audience impressively too. One scene involves the soldiers noticing random people filming them and gathering on balconies to watch them. The tension builds and builds until - nothing. While I think it’s a clever technique to keep audience members on their toes, I still think these scenes were a bit of a waste. As a viewer, I wanted there to be some reason why there’s strangers malevolently filming them. 

There’s also hints of something more exciting which never quite materialises. The film is shot in juddering, choppy angles with handheld cameras, lending it an air of a documentary. But then in surprising moments, Bigelow becomes more poetic. After the first bomb blast of the film, she cuts away from the documentary style, and shows slow-motion imagery of the gravel flying and the unlucky disposal expert tumbling through the air; disassembling different events from the bomb blast and showing them elegantly and excitingly. It only happens once or twice through the film, and left me wishing she’d embraced that side of her film-making much more. 

Acting-wise, everyone does a decent job (Ralph Fiennes has the most bizarre miniature cameo) but I still left the film feeling unsure of why Bigelow has made a film that on one hand seems to be trying to explore the reactions of men in high-stress situations, and on the other somehow glamorise war. One review said that Bigelow appeared to be making an advert for the army, and I don’t disagree. A confusing, if at times gripping, mess. 

Highlight 

The moment in the first scene with the bomb blast is beautiful to watch, and stunningly disassembled. If Bigelow had followed this style more, I think it’d be a far greater piece of work. 

Lowlight

The film starts to lag in the second half, and with the very little effort put into separating the characters, I started to be confused about what was happening to who. Distancing. 

Mark 

5/10

Paul says...

The Hurt Locker is a film with a few interesting statistics. As Doug says, it’s the first and, so far, only Best Picture to have been directed by a woman (Kathryn Bigelow) and the first and, so far, only time that a woman has won Best Director. At the time, she was only the fourth woman to have even been nominated for the directing award and, since then, only one other woman has been nominated (Greta Gerwig for Ladybird in 2017). The 82nd Academy Awards also marks the first time since 1943 that the number of Best Picture nominees was increased from 5 to a maximum of 10, so The Hurt Locker managed to defeat other strong 2009 hits such as Avatar, The Blind Side, District 9, An Education, Inglourious Basterds, Precious and Pixar’s Up. It nabbed six Academy Awards, and interestingly, it is the lowest grossing Best Picture winner when adjusting for inflation. 

It’s also our first war film since The English Patient in 1996 (I’m discounting The Lord of the Rings’ fictional war from this), and in my opinion, it’s one of the strongest depictions of war in the Best Picture canon. 

James Cameron (who used to be married to Bigelow and apparently persuaded her to direct the film) suggested that it could be the Iraq War’s Platoon, and indeed there are strong similarities between the two films. Both depict a cohort of men being torn apart physically and psychologically due to the horrors they encounter in the most well-known war at the time of the film’s release. Neither films follow a particularly clear-cut story. The Hurt Locker works almost like a series of extremely tense vignettes, loosely connected by the same team of soldiers and a focus on bomb disposal. 

But I would say that The Hurt Locker is a whole lot more emotionally involving than the relentlessly testosterone-fuelled Platoon. Bigelow stages each bomb disposal scene with incredible suspense. I found myself fearing for my own life as Jeremy Renner fiddles around with wires in a bomb, or finds himself being shot at by sniper insurgents that we can barely see. The film begins with the phrase “war is a drug” and Bigelow and her screenwriter, Mark Boal, perfectly capture how horrific, destructive, yet glamorously thrilling war can be- much like an addictive drug. When Will returns home, you can feel his exasperation at the mundanity of choosing a cereal in a supermarket after a year of saving lives. They also emphasise the randomness of the destruction- some action scenes lead to death, some don’t; some quiet scenes lead to death, some don’t. And, frighteningly, there’s no predicting it. 

I was also interested by the depiction of the Iraqi people. Like most American war films, you can’t expect much depth from the non-American characters. Nonetheless the Iraqis watch the goings-on around them with an eery, accusatory stillness. Many of the scenes in which the soldiers desperately try to defuse a bomb are peppered with shots of locals just watching from a distance, most of them obscured by windows, fences or clothing. One even tries to introduce himself to a panicked soldier who shouts at him to go away. The impression I get is that the Iraqi people are just trying to get along with their lives, while the gung-ho, emotional American soldiers are scrabbling in the sand and dust, causing more destruction than they are trying to prevent. Despite claims that Bigelow has overly-glamorised war, I don’t feel particularly motivated to join or support the United States army. 

My only really quibble is the same as my one for Platoon - the lack of story. There are some small corners and changes but ultimately this is a compilation of short thrillers, which are superbly made but after a while I was hoping for some kind of structure or movement towards a climax. Admittedly, this isn’t the reality of war, and this is what Bigelow is aiming for, but there were periods where the film was becoming tedious in its lack of structure. 

Highlight

Jeremy Renner’s first bomb defuse scene, in which he manages to defuse one bomb, only to discover a wire leading to about 5 others hidden in the rubble, is enough to make you sweat.

Lowlight

There’s a lengthy scene in which our heroes are shown passing the time by punching each other in the stomach. It shows how screwed up they are because they can only gain a thrill out of aggression and physical pain, but it goes on a quite some time.

Mark

8/10

81. Slumdog Millionaire (2008)

Plot Intro

Jamal Malik (Dev Patel) is an Indian Muslim who originates from the slums. By chance, he becomes a contestant on the Indian edition of Who Wants to be a Millionaire hosted by Prem Kumar (Anil Kapoor), but shocks audiences by managing to get every answer correct. The police believe that an undereducated “slumdog” such as he must have cheated, but under interrogation, Jamal reveals that he does, indeed, know all the answers due to various horrendous events in his childhood. Through flashback, we then see his tumultuous relationship with his older brother Salim (Madhur Mittal), his love affair with childhood sweetheart, Latika (Frieda Pinto), and his endless struggles with gangsters, criminals and religious conflicts. 

Paul says...

Here is one our most lively and ethnically diverse Best Picture winners, and one that I remember fondly from my first viewing of it in 2008. Slumdog, like Crash and The Departed, is another curveball winner. Made modestly, but proving to be a massive hit in the Western markets and at the Oscars, it nabbed the much-coveted Best Direction and Best Screenplay, and beat Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Reader and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button to the final prize. 

All in all, I think this is an immensely deserving winner, and one of the highlights of the new millennium. The framing device in which Jamal reveals his life-story through the answers he gives, and the unusual and unexpected ways in which he has these answers in his head, is totally inspired. It gives the film a relentless and intense pace, and director Danny Boyle skilfully uses the Who Wants to be a Millionaire music score to evoke the sort of stomach-clenching feelings we get when real contestants put their fortunes on the line or use a lifeline. 

The creative editing also got an Oscar, and this is no surprise. Admittedly, the slanted camera angles and disjointed movements feel a little bit outdated (it sometimes feels like we’re watching a rap music video from the late '90s), but Boyle’s relentless innovation ensures that I was never bored. The film’s two hours flew by.

It also boasts some excellent acting and huge emotional investment. Dev Patel, who at the time was only really famous for Skins, deservedly made a name for himself. It’s a shame he didn’t get a Best Actor nod. I also thoroughly enjoyed Anil Kapoor as the snide host of the quiz show. He jumps between entertaining funny man and nefarious enemy of Jamal’s success with spine-tingling skill. A minor quibble is that the script doesn’t make it entirely clear what, exactly, he has against Jamal. I can only assume he is classist and possibly racist too (remember, Jamal is a Muslim in a predominantly Hindu country). A shout-out should also go to the child actors, who are the best I’ve seen so far on this project.

This makes the scenes in which society chomps down on Jamal and his loved ones quite devastating. The sudden and vicious death of his mother; the manipulation of children by a sadistic Fagin-like pimp; his brother’s descent into corruption; Latika’s horrendous relationship with a misogynistic crime boss, all of these have us cheering for these characters’ successes. 

This is a really wonderful film. It tells a Dickensian bildungsroman in a much shorter time than Dickens ever managed (indeed, the story is basically Great Expectations, David Copperfield and Oliver Twist all rolled into one). It may have been slightly controversial in India itself (I think Doug is going to go into more detail on this), but it’s one of the most vibrant, most innovative and most exciting of all the Best Picture winners.

Highlight

The climax of the film has Jamal attempt to call his brother because he doesn’t know the answer to the last question. I won’t go into much more detail than that, but it’s thrillingly edited and written, with some surprising outcomes.

Lowlight

The reaction from some Indian critics and audiences suggests that the film may not be the most accurate or fair depiction of India. But then, the film is only two hours, and India is a 3.2km squared country with 1.3 billion people sooooo……

Mark

9/10

Doug says...

I remember watching Slumdog Millionaire a while back and absolutely loving it for its (as Paul says) Dickensian plot, wild array of characters and ultimate good triumphing. It’s a film with a great heart and a cracking pace, and after long dreary pieces like Crash, it’s good to see a more entertainment-minded film winning. 

I think this is an issue I’m encountering more and more with these later decades. Film, to me, has a duty to entertain in some respect. That doesn’t mean comedy, it means to captivate and enthral, and maybe even distract. A lot of these later films are depressingly dull and try to hammer home some ‘important message’, alienating me completely in the process. Films like Titanic and Slumdog Millionaire are great because while they may have messages they want to convey in the story, the story comes first. 

And for me, the story in Slumdog is flawless. The pitting of a young scrawny hero against an oppressive, seemingly-unbeatable state is an oldie but a goodie. Throw in the colourful characters of the Fagin-esque pimp, the brother who is haunted by his cruel earlier decisions, an evil Mafiosa-type boss and a host more background characters who bring the story to life. The framing device is, as Paul says, a stroke of genius. It reminds me of Desert Island Discs, using the songs (or in this case questions) as markers by which to examine a life. It’s a gripping and reliable structure, and I’m here for it. 

So it’s totally without fault? Not quite. 

The film received criticism in India for essentially spinning poverty-porn and painting India as a place of misery and cruelty. I’m not going to deny this totally, but the criticism rings true for me. When I visited India a couple of years back, I encountered a very different world to ours, and one that may not translate particularly well to our Western lives - and storytelling. 

On my travels, I visited a couple of villages that have the type of poverty we see here. Except in the villages, they did not view themselves as poor. They were proud of their homes, their industries, and we left confused by our own definition of poverty, because by labelling them as poor and destitute, we were applying a Western filter to a world that doesn’t necessarily fit it. 

Further to this, the simple Western love story doesn’t feel quite so accurate here either. In Indian culture, the concept of love is irrevocably tied with family, duty, honour and more, so that the business of falling in love and the way people interact with each other is very different to our world. So at times, this film feels like a Western impression of India. It wouldn’t matter so much if Slumdog was just set against India as a backdrop, but Danny Boyle seems to be tying India in irrevocably, and there are moments when it feels a little bit like a tourist’s story. 

When we’ve watched Bollywood films, this difference is even clearer. Boyle throws in a Bollywood dance number at the end, and while I enjoyed it at first viewing, now it seems a little off. This is a Western look at India, using Western tropes, and so the Bollywood dance number - while no doubt a tribute - feels a bit like Western patronisation. 

It’s not to say we can’t tell great Indian stories, but I think Western film-makers will always need a Western way in - for instance the impeccable The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel which uses expats as a way to explore the environment and which for me summoned up much more of a feeling of India successfully. 

Highlight

I love the symbolism moments, for instance Samir in the bath filled with money. Danny Boyle is a great film-maker, and he knows his medium. 

Lowlight

As I say, it feels like a look at India from the outside, which left me feeling oddly disassociated at times.  

Mark
8/10

80. No Country for Old Men (2007)

Plot Intro

An unemployed Texan man named Llewellyn Moss (Josh Brolin) comes across the remains of a drug deal gone wrong- several dead Mexican men, a truck-load of cocaine, and a suitcase containing $2 million. He makes off with the money, but soon comes to realise that a hitman named Chigurh (Javier Bardem) has been hired to kill him and recover the money. Their intense game of cat and mouse leads to some pretty horrific injuries and civilian deaths, prompting an older local sheriff, Ed Tom Bell, to pursue both parties in the hope of reinstating order to his precinct. 

Doug says...

I remember watching No Country for Old Men in the cinema and greatly enjoying it. While it hasn’t particularly aged badly, I did find this is a case of knowing the ending marred the overall enjoyment. This is a cat and mouse film, with the gutsy but naive Llewellyn Moss trying to evade the thoroughly unpleasant Chigurh. 

There’s plenty of themes gushing through - it is a Coen brothers’ film after all - with the idea of evil going unpunished, good becoming susceptible to evil and the painting of the American West as a place where only the young can hope to survive. However, I’m not fascinated by it, partly because this is again a Macho Film. I’ve discovered through this project that these films that feature masculine characters doing masculine things just don’t pique my interest. 

It’s no slight to the film - it’s very well made and a worthy winner - but I did find myself getting distracted constantly. There’s lots of beautiful cinematography - particularly around Chigurh’s increasingly brutal murder methods, and Javier Bardem rocks the world’s most terrifying haircut with aplomb. I’m actually half-convinced it was the haircut that actually won Best Supporting Actor, and if so it was a justified win. 

Apart from that, I don’t have much to say. I don’t love or hate this as a film, but I do think that the Coen brothers’ The Hudsucker Proxy is a far better representation of their creative, madcap and thoughtful capabilities. But with the critics panning that and loving this, I may be alone here. I will also admit that when I saw Woody Harrelson I had wistful thoughts of Three Billboards - which would have knocked this out of the park had they been in the same year. Oh well. 

Highlight 

Javier Bardem's hair

Lowlight

So many closeups of people extracting bullets from their legs or bone poking out of shoulders. Ew. 

Mark 

7/10

Paul says...

I’m not massively familiar with the work of the Coen Brothers. The only other film by them I have seen is Fargo, which is probably their most universally appreciated piece. Nonetheless, No Country for Old Men is, so far, their only work to take home the Best Picture Oscar (beating Juno, Atonement and There Will Be Blood), and it was a big critical and commercial hit in 2007. They also managed to nab Best Director and Best Screenplay, while Javier Bardem garnered the only acting nomination, and won Best Supporting Actor (more on him later). 

And whilst it is by no means a bad film, it’s certainly no Fargo. It has all the tropes and tricks that makes a Coen Brothers film so recognisable: unpredictable storytelling; playful direction; intense and darkly comic dialogue; lashings of explicit violence; and just a dash of inconclusive philosophising on the nature of life. They work together to make what is effectively a mildly interesting musing on how it feels to be old in a world that is changing. In the mid-noughties, with the rise of social media, internet and video game access, concerns over the increasing violence amongst youth have very obviously fed into No Country. These have been pretty pertinent themes ever since the Jets and Sharks pirouetted their way into gang violence in West Side Story. The film also touches on the idea of living life by flipping a coin, or by making conscious and decent personal choices.

But here’s the problem- it’s Javier Bardem. He’s good. He’s really, really good. He plays a man who is so psychopathic he makes Hannibal Lector look like Florence Nightingale. In just the first 10 minutes, he tears apart a police officer’s jugular with a pair of handcuffs that he is wearing, and then shoots a man through the head with his favourite weapon- a captive bolt pistol. He is so robotically unfeeling and gains so much enjoyment out of intimidating and slaughtering others, that I wondered if the Coen Brothers and Bardem had taken inspiration from Yul Bryner’s performance in Westworld. It’s an astonishingly engaging and frightening performance, and it’s a well deserved win (yes, the haircut helped).

It’s so engaging, in fact, that the rambling and slightly unfocused themes become entirely overshadowed. So do the performances of Josh Brolin, Tommy Lee Jones and Woody Harrelson, all excellent actors who contribute competently to the film, but without the momentousness of Bardem. The film starts strong with the simple but butt-clenchingly tense chase between Moss and Chigurh. But as it progresses, it seems to descend into a series of non-sequitur scenes that don’t seem to add up. The conclusion involves Chigurh’s eventual murder of Moss’s wife, a car crash in which he breaks his arm, a scene in which Bell visits his Uncle who tells stories of violence from Texas’ criminal past, and a final scene in which Bell discusses his dreams. These scenes didn’t connect for me at all, nor contribute to the themes of the film or even the storyline. I was pining for the first 20 minutes of the film in which an exciting battle between morally ambiguous blokes was set up, before it meandered off into making-it-up-as-we-go-along.

So yes, when Bardem is on the screen being terrifying, whether he’s using a coin to decide whether to murder a shopkeeper, or just walking slowly towards Moss’ hotel room, then the film comes alive. It’s a master-class in Hitchcockian suspense-building (the scene in which Chigurh’s shadow appears under Moss’ hotel door was an obvious tribute to Rear Window), but when it comes to coherent story-telling, the film faltered badly for me. 

Highlight

The build-up to Chiguhr’s attack on Moss in a seedy hotel room in which he walks up to the hotel door, walks away, turns off the corridor light, and then silently comes back again, is nail-biting stuff.

Lowlight

The final half hour loses its way completely. I get that Coen Brothers’ films are meant to take you by surprise (and Fargo certainly does) but these random set pieces felt tedious.

Mark

5/10

Foreign Language Films 10 & 11: Ip Man (China, 2008); La Vie en Rose (France, 2007)

Ip Man

Plot Intro

Unassuming martial arts expert Ip Man (Donnie Yen) and his wife Cheung Wing-Sing (Lynn Hung) lead a quiet life in Foshan during the 1930s. But when a group of outsiders arrive and attempt to assert their authority by defeating and humiliating all the martial arts school leaders, Ip Man is forced to prove his prowess to save his city from disgrace. And then the Japanese invade…

Paul says...

Here’s a rollicking, fast-paced fight fest that will spoon-feed you the entire plot on those sleepy, takeaway-fuelled Saturday nights. Ip Man is actually the first in a series of films which, together, chart the life of the titular character, who was not only a real life Wing Chun grandmaster, but was also Bruce Lee’s teacher. The critical acclaim it achieved on release has led to the successful production of two sequels, and another fourth instalment is being released this year. 

Admittedly, it wasn’t quite the historical biopic that Wikipedia made it out to be. It only charts a few life events between the the mid '30s and early '40s, so there is no reference to Bruce Lee except in the closing statements. It’s actually not that historically accurate and most of Ip Man’s actions were made up. And the Japanese are presented as such a one-dimensionally sinister embodiment of evil that they make the Brexit Party look like Yul Bryner’s children in The King And I. Really, it’s a martial arts action-movie that’s inspired by some elements of history.

But it’s bloody entertaining stuff. The fight scenes (and there are many of them) are intricately and spectacularly choreographed, and they get more and more inventive as the film progresses. Starting with Ip Man’s cool-headed defeat of a hot-headed challenger, leading into his frantic defeat of 10 Japanese henchmen at once, and culminating in his training of a group of factory workers who eventually use their new-found skills for inspirational and often comical effect. The film never loses momentum, and I spent all the intermediary scenes looking forward to the next battle.

The film also boasts strong performances from Donnie Yen, who acts with calm but authoritative charisma, and also from Lynn Hung as his stoic and strong-headed wife. The film cleverly ends on something of a cliffhanger too, which left me eager to check out its sequels, although I’m not sure they have lived up the success of the first instalment.

At just 108 minutes, the film is far from “epic” and it does have the historical insight of a Jacob Rees-Mogg novel. But it’s an involving, inventive and invigorating thrill-ride. Is it the finest example of Chinese cinema? I suspect not. Would I watch it again? Hell yes. And I might break a few vases trying out the battle moves.

Highlight 

Pick a battle scene. Any battle scene! 

Lowlight 
The depiction of the Japanese is….well, if it’s not “racist” it’s at least Chinese nationalist propaganda.  

Mark 

8/10

Doug says...

There’s a lot to be said for a film that packs in lots of gripping action scenes, has a crack at some characterisation and keeps it all under two hours. I enjoyed Ip Man vastly, and it’s the perfect film to wind down with at the weekend. Thinking is not a requirement, as they spell out the goodies and baddies immediately (the baddies are all Japanese caricatures with tiny glasses and teeth and generally ‘cruel’ demeanours). 

I do have to say, it made me google whether there’s still anti-Japanese feeling in China and apparently it’s absolutely rife. Whether stirred up by the government or no, about 75% of the Chinese population actively dislike the Japanese, according to a recent poll. If even half of this film is true, it’s not difficult to see why. It’s all very Handmaid’s Tale with the invading Japanese forcing the Chinese to fight each other for their amusement, and occasionally shooting them as the fancy takes them. 

Biographically I’m sure it’s not at all correct, but why let that spoil a good film? I liked Donnie Yen’s calm portrayal of the eponymous hero, the stillness with which he acts makes his quick moving fight scenes all the more thrilling. A sort of Mrs Danvers of the Wing Chun world. I’d’ve liked to have seen more from his wife, but the actress still manages to convey the general annoyance that having a martial-arts-fanatic for a husband could hold. 

I’d watch the sequels, if only for more of the same. But in terms of artistic merit, I doubt it has much staying power. But this is cracking entertainment and sometimes that’s more than enough for a good evening in. 

Highlight

I particularly liked the fight scene as Ip Man fights off ten men in one go and then forgoes the reward of ten bags of rice. It’s beautifully lit and cheerfully uncomplicated. 

Lowlight

I thought it felt oddly rushed towards the end, particularly with a set of titles quickly telling you about the rest of Ip Man’s life. If they knew they were doing sequels why bother? 

Mark

8.5/10



La Vie en Rose

Plot Intro

A non-linear dissection of the life of Edith Piaf, one of France’s greatest national treasures.

Paul says...

A lot was hanging on us watching this film. It’s Doug’s absolute favourite (he’s told me enough times that it is, anyway) and if I gave it anything lower than an 8 we’d be in marriage therapy quicker than a Kardashian couple.

Thankfully, this was a moment where our tastes in art intertwined. La Vie En Rose is utterly superb. It’s one of those films where the tone, the structure, the direction, script, acting work like a jigsaw puzzle in that they all slot together with mind-boggling intricacy to create a magnificent, gorgeous, slightly-surrealist whole.

The biggest selling point, for me, is Marion Cotillard as Piaf herself. She won the Best Actress Oscar for this and it’s one of the very few foreign-language performances to do so. She is totally unrecognisable, and utilises her entire body to encapsulate the way Piaf walked, moved and talked whilst also conveying a sense of heart-rending pity and admiration of this extraordinary woman. Even in youth, Piaf had an awkward, hunched, and jittery gait to her that got worse and worse as she aged and faced horrendous ill health. I felt so sorry for her right from her childhood where her father left her at her grandmother’s brothel to live, then reappeared years later to take her away again; to her life desperately trying to pay rent by singing on the streets; to her doomed affair with a married man; to her painful, sickly dying days at the tender age of 47, played with climactic gusto to the rousing trumpets of her most famous song, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien. This complex finale reminds us that Piaf worked so hard in her difficult life, that she regrets nothing, but ultimately her life was still a tragedy.

I won’t gush anymore than that. Movie reviews are boring when there’s nothing to criticise. Just rest assured, no matter what your attitude may be to foreign-language films, or biopics, or French cinema, this is a film that will lift you up and tear at your heartstrings.

Highlight 

There are many things to choose from. But the one-shot scene in which Piaf receives horrible news about her lover, then, in a dream-like state, runs through a door onto a stage to keep her star-status going despite her heartbreak, is a stunner.

Lowlight

Rien!

Mark 

10/10

Doug says...

This is one of the greatest films ever made in the history of cinema. 

Now we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about why. The first reason is Marion Cottillard. She effortlessly shows you the same woman from her late teens through to her death. It’s a physical masterclass in how to subtly show the ravages of a drug-addled existence, even at her most glamorous there is a hunch in her shoulders, and by the end she can barely bend her spine away from the floor to look at someone. She is utterly unrecognisable. Everyone else in this film sees this - it feels like every actor is bringing their A-game purely to stay visible. 

Cottillard is also just extraordinarily charismatic. As she declares in one scene, when told she can’t do something, ‘I can’t? Then what the point of being Edith Piaf?’ It’s a triumphant, Icarus-flying-to-the-sun, champagne-fuelled performance. And yet, despite her tragic end, we’re left uplifted by the idea of this glorious, forceful personality. 

And that’s the second reason why this is so good. Director Olivier Dahan doesn’t play a Hollywood game. This is a non-linear film that rather than show the decline of Piaf, shows you all of her at once, at every age. A scene of her as a young girl being abandoned by her father is followed by another of her at the height of her power recording ‘Padam’ in a glossy recording studio. Her stumbling - jaundiced - to a nurse chair, is followed by her attracting suitors at parties and stealing the focus from all other party-goers. This is Piaf, all at once, immediate and unstoppable. 

And then there’s the third reason. Because on another level this goes beyond a biography. At the very end, as Piaf lies on her dying night in bed, she remembers scenes and people that we have seen all the way through. Only here, the ‘vie en rose’ - or we might say ‘rose tinted glasses’, are gone. The protective prostitute of her youth is seen instead drunkenly dazed at the edge of a party. Her cruel father is shown to have actually given her a doll. A whole tragic episode from her teenage years is suddenly alluded to. 

What Dahan is doing - so extraordinarily - here, is examining the very idea of memory. How a person can be constructed of fragments and perceptions, non-linear and gathered from any and all periods of their lives. And yet these fragments can be wrong, or seen without a full understanding. He enforces this practically, with metaphorical shots like Piaf weeping in a corridor and opening a door and suddenly being on stage, and other huge tracking shots. One follows Piaf as she walks through her apartment, other people drawn into and then expelled from her wake - one plays a song, another begs her to be on time. Through this sense of time and memory, we gain the sense of a person intent unconsciously on destruction. The scene when she expels her greatest friend and supporter Momone is done so casually and with such cruelty that it’s hard to stand Piaf in that moment. And yet you do. 

The film concludes with Piaf’s best known song Non, je ne regrette rien. And the true power of Dahan and Cottillard’s work here is that when you hear the lyrics, they apply so thoroughly to Piaf’s madcap, whirlwind life, that the effect is breath-taking. When the song ends, even though you know she dies a handful of years later, Piaf in her inescapable pursuit of love, power and success seems invincible. 

Highlight 

Towards the end, Piaf is interviewed on a beach by a young female journalist. Her answers are kind, poetic and lasting. ‘Do you like the dawn?’ ‘With a piano and friends.’ ‘Do you like the evening?’ ‘Ah for us, that’s dawn.’ It’s a beautifully played quiet moment amid the chaos, and really supports the idea of Piaf as a poetic, lonely soul. 

Lowlight

There is literally nothing. I will fight you. 

Mark 

100/10