November 6, 2009
"Not even Hitler wants war."
There's an almost classical grace to Jean-Paul Rappeneau's wartime comedy Bon Voyage, the Cesar-winning effort starring two of the greatest French Film stars of the last 30 years, Isabelle Adjani and Gerard Depardieu. And, as far as cla...( read more)ssical grace goes when making a comedy, it delivers... although its pleasures, to be honest, are reminiscent less of a bubbly champagne and more of a refined, unadorned table wine.
Distinctively European in rhythm and almost quaint in its period detailing, the film never manages more than a few chuckles - and yet, there's a gentle elegance pervading every frame that is consistently engaging, even when the storyline occasionally loses its firm footing. Perhaps it is because Bon Voyage is a paean to the glamorized war films of the 1940s, or perhaps because it reminds its audiences of star sirens and Hollywood's Golden Age. Whatever the case, Rappeneau has created an immensely pleasant comic diversion that has the rare effect of getting better in one's memory. I've seen it twice so far, and I already can't wait to watch it again.
All of the elements, of course, are meant exactly for this manipulation. Gabriel Yared, the exemplary Oscar-winning composer of The English Patien, The Talented Mr. Ripley, contributes his most lush, romantic score yet to Bon Voyage, playing upon historical Hollywood formulas which extravagantly embellish each moment. Thierry Arbogast, the noted cinematographer who lensed most of Luc Besson's films, clearly shared Yared's passion for 1940s cinematic melodrama; whether having lovers run in the rain, meet on a beach, or run from hired thugs through the forests, every scene could have been easily mistaken for a romantic thriller made sixty years ago. "Casablanca in colour" would be a nice way to sell it.
Perhaps the most unique element, then, to Bon Voyage is that many of the performances (but not all) feel quite contemporary. Is this Rappeneau's choice, or simply an oversight? It makes no matter, even when Adjani, as the aging screen starlet Viviane Denvers, seems to be channeling early Norma Shearer while her co-star Grégori Derangère, makes his writer-slash-romantic-doormat Frédéric Auger seem like a new-generation, Nora Ephron-inspired sensitive hero. In Hollywood equivalence, Bon Voyage would star Greta Garbo and Tom Hanks.
Although there is a jarring disconnect in the performance styles, the film itself never waivers from its period roots. As World War II looms and German forces threaten to occupy France, Viviane and Frédéric are fleeing Paris to Bordeaux, where the French government is convening in exile. Viviane finds security in the arms of Beaufort (Depardieu), a French minister who is trying to save his country while drooling all over the actress, and Alex Winckler (Peter Coyote), a German spy posing as a journalist. Meanwhile, the disconsolate Frédéric begins to fall for Camille (the lovely Virginie Ledoyen), an impassioned student who is trying to get her professor's politically important science experiments out of the country. Bon Voyage is not as maniacally joyful as this circuitous plot may sound; indeed, where it perhaps should be zany, it is merely convoluted.
The singular shining light of the ensemble, as she's been her entire life, is Isabelle Adjani, who leaves nothing to chance in her outsized portrayal of Viviane. Unable to stop acting on screen or off, Viviane is a compendium of self-contained manipulations. To get what she wants, she will either conform or confound the stereotypes of femininity to achieve her immediate goals; however, long-term goals (or thought) evades her in almost every instance, creating some delightful comic moments. Here's a woman who runs through three men in the course of ten minutes... to find a better hotel room. As for Depardieu, he brings a balance of charm and intimidation to a character that could have been a disaster in the hands of a less accomplished actor. Ledoyen and Derangère both exude passion and verve, and Coyote proves to be significantly more versatile than previous roles might suggest.
Posh, stylish, and with very little going on in its head, Bon Voyage is neither as dizzying nor as little entertaining as it could be. The nature and style of Rappeneau's classicism should, in theory, be at odds with its languid pace and divergent genre-hopping (romantic comedy becomes noir mystery becomes political drama), but it somehow works in his favour. It's a tribute to Rappeneau's talent and understanding of the medium - as well as his remarkable team - that the film remains such a fun, charming, and compulsively watchable affair.
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