16. THE DEATH OF LOUIS XIV (Serra, 2016)
I'm not claiming that Jean-Pierre Leaud
was the only actor who could have embodied director Albert Serra's
vision of Louis XIV, but casting little Antoine Doinel as the setting
Sun King was a stroke of inspiration guaranteed to touch the soul of
any faithful cinephile. Just compare fresh-faced teenage Leaud in
freeze frame circa 1959 (“The 400 Blows”) to this craggy,
withered, royal wreck and marvel at the power of cinema (or at least
photography) to span a lifetime in just two images.
Great, gangrenous Louis waits (in full
regal luxury, of course) for the inevitable end that sure takes its
sweet time arriving, while his faithful advisers fuss nervously in
hushed, helpless meetings. Neither they nor Louis have any choice in
the matter as the French Apollo has spent most of the seven decades
of his reign accruing virtually unprecedented power by forcing
everyone to relocate to Versailles and attend to the court's every
need in elaborately proscribed daily rituals. Behold the era-hopping
power of cinema once again by jumping back half a century to Roberto
Rossellini's extraordinary “The Taking Of Power By Louis XIV”(1966) for the beginning of the story whose denouement Serra
chronicles with panache here.
The array of charlatans who scrutinize
Louis' various body parts with magnifying glasses and propose
ineffective cures provide some quietly hilarious scenes – bull
semen cocktails for all! Serra's gem may vault Louis into the lead as
the most cinematic European monarch ahead of Elizabeth I and Henry
VIII, or maybe it would if anybody still watched arthouse cinema.
Leaud is riveting while remaining largely motionless and bedridden
throughout, just sinking deeper minute by minute into the grave.
I think the film still works as a study
in mortality (everyone finishes the race in a tie) for audiences
unfamiliar with either “The 400 Blows” or Rossellini's “Louis
XIV” but for viewers with a greater familiarity with film history,
it carries a special resonance.
When I think of the definitive film
locations, the screen spaces established and explored most vividly,
the first two that spring to mind are The Overlook Hotel from “The
Shining” and, of course, Jeanne Dielman's apartment at 23 Quai duCommerce, 1080 Bruxelles. Especially her kitchen.
Jafar Panahi's Tehran apartment from “This Is Not A Film” merits serious consideration as well. After all, at the time of shooting, the apartment is virtually the entire world for the filmmaker who has been placed under house arrest by the Iranian regime for supposedly creating “propaganda against the Islamic Republic.” Perhaps ex-filmmaker is the more proper term since, in addition to a potential six-year prison sentence, Panahi also faces a twenty-year ban on directing and screenwriting. So he stays at home all day with his pet iguana Igi and doesn't make films.
Certainly not “This Is Not A Film”
which is really shot by his colleague Mojtaba Mirtahmasb and not at
all by Jafar Panahi, which is proven when we see Panahi reflexively
yell “Cut!” only to be ignored by Mirtahmasb who keeps rolling.
Because, of course, Mr. Panahi isn't allowed to direct a film or
write a script, and he wouldn't want to flout the law. He can,
however, read from the screenplay he wrote before the ban or mark out
the spots where his actors might have stood had he ever shot that
project. If Mr. Mirtahmasb wants to film Panahi while he's doing such
things and not at all making a film, that's entirely Mr. Mirtahmasb's
business.
“This Is Not A Film” was allegedly
smuggled out of Iran on a thumb drive hidden inside a birthday cake
after which it wa screened to rave reviews at Cannes and other
festivals. This (not a) film is a clever, bracing portrait of a
courageous, resourceful, and resolute artist who intends to resist to
the best of his abilities, and perhaps to entertain and amuse viewers
in the process. Panahi had already established himself as one of the
greatest directors of the previous two decades with masterpieces such
as “The Mirror” (1997), “Crimson Gold” (2003), and “Offside”
(2008). Even a legal ban by a repressive regime couldn't restrain
such a talent from continuing to shine through the 2010s. Panahi's
“Taxi Tehran” (2015) was damn near every bit as brilliant as
“This Is Not A Film.”
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