Anatomy of a fall, by Justine Triet
Winner of Gold at Cannes, this brilliant work by Frenchwoman Justine Triet offered us a high-flying puzzle coupled with a gripping trial film. At its bow, the great German actress Sandra Hüller sparkles with talent as a woman, guilty or not of the death of her husband. Everything is controlled ambiguities and traps, between a house in the Alps and a court of law, between dissected marital secrets and the gaze of a visually impaired child who perceives many things.
As Bestas, by Rodrigo Sorogoyen
The tension that inhabits this powerful film by Rodrigo Sorogoyen is anchored in the land of a Spanish village. A French couple faces the chauvinism of country people who want to leave their fields after the construction of a wind farm. Denis Ménochet and Marina Foïs, filmed at close range, appear fabulous in their truth and endurance in this excellent psychological thriller where everyone’s interests awaken a clan wickedness, as animal as it is fascinating.
Close, by Lukas Dhont
Influenced by the cinema of the Dardenne brothers, but fresher, younger, brighter, Closeby Belgian Lukas Dhont (filmmaker of the moving Girl), autobiographical film with a pastoral setting, demonstrates his exceptional talents as a director of actors and his quivering sensitivity. Light and mourning weave this story of pre-teen friends drawn to each other, doomed to misunderstandings, injuries, the tragedy of social conventions.
I will always see your faces, by Jeanne Herry
Although established for several years already, the principle of restorative justice remains relatively unknown. In his beautiful and moving social drama I will always see your faces, Jeanne Herry explores this “parallel system” with finesse and acuity. Ultra-realistic, ultra-moving charge in this feature film whose choral form allows us to show how restorative justice affects people in a distinct way, depending on whether they are a victim, an aggressor or a support person.
Killers of the Flower Moon, by Martin Scorsese
In Killers of the Flower Moon (The American note), Leonardo DiCaprio embodies the worst kind of bastard there is: the one who is convinced that he is a good guy. Such an antihero with ambiguous morality is typical of Martin Scorsese’s cinema. Loosely inspired by a factual novel by David Grann, this broad historical fresco revisits a shocking page in the history of the United States: the serial murders of members of the Osage community by money-hungry whites. More sober than usual, Scorsese’s style fades in favor of the subject.
The red rooms, by Pascal Plante
Two young women attend with obsessive assiduity, but for opposite reasons, the highly publicized trial of an alleged pedophile murderer. From this intriguing but potentially sordid starting point, Pascal Plante constructs a story of remarkable sobriety, ambiguity and, ultimately, precision. Very dense, but very thematically cohesive, The red rooms evokes the best of David Fincher and Michael Haneke. In the main roles, Juliette Gariépy and Laurie Babin are as contrasting as they are unforgettable.
Dead Leaves, by Aki Kaurismäki
The captivating latest film by Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki is based on the poetry of Prévert, visual gags à la Charlie Chaplin, many silences and a grace that floats between the images. The filmmaker’s tenderness for humans on the margins combines with his song of solidarity for the wretched of the earth. And this love potion in Helsinki between two loners (Jussi Vatanen and Alma Pöysti), nourished by songs, kitsch and melancholy, is drunk like a fresh amber wine of melancholy.
Maestro, by Bradley Cooper
This very classic biography of Leonard Bernstein captivates with its humanity, its depth of field, the rigor of its staging, the beauty of its plot and the admirable performances of the actors. The American Bradley Cooper, in front of and behind the camera, burns the screen as a prodigy musician and conductor as well as a gay man crazy about his wife (the ultrasensitive Carey Mulligan) who thrives on several loves. The scenario, never Manichean, resonates like a wonderful love letter to music.
Oppenheimer, by Christopher Nolan
Christopher Nolan has long proven that auteur cinema can rhyme with blockbuster. That being said, no one expected a billionaire triumph with Oppenheimer. Especially since it is, after all, the biography of the — disenchanted — inventor of the atomic bomb. In the title role, Cillian Murphy is very inhabited. However, despite the dark content of the subject, the public filled the theaters (barely released in 4K format, the film displayed “out of print” everywhere, forcing the Universal studio to produce more).
Past Lives, by Celine Song
After a promising first date at the age of 12, Nora and Hae Sung find life — and an ocean — tearing them apart. A dozen years later, the appearance of social networks allows them to reconnect: intensity and complicity are still there. Nora is even troubled by it. Twelve more years pass… Engaged, Nora agrees to see Hae Sung again… Inspired in part by her own life, Celine Song signs with Past Lives an impossible love story of incredible delicacy and subtlety. All presented in a cinematic setting of infinite poetry.
Poor Things, by Yorgos Lanthimos
Brought back from the dead by an avant-garde scientist, Bella currently has the behaviors and skills of a child, but she learns quickly and is boundlessly curious. So here she is launched into an odyssey in the company of a libertine lawyer whom she has selected for the purposes of sexual training. A comedy that is both dark, fanciful and erotic, Poor Things turns out to be an absolutely enjoyable story of intellectual (and sexual) emancipation. Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos with his usual unbridled brilliance, the film is carried by a brilliant composition by Emma Stone.
Simple as Sylvain, by Monia Chokri
After My brother’s wife And Baby sitterMonia Chokri once again had the good fortune to astonish, and seduce, with Simple like Sylvain. It’s impossible not to have a big crush on this intelligent, funny, bittersweet romantic comedy… The filmmaker also demonstrates an astonishing formal mastery: the final sequence at the gas station is of great virtuosity. As opposite lovers, she the intellectual and he the “manual”, Magalie Lépine-Blondeau and Pierre-Yves Cardinal flash fire.
Prize list of François Lévesque
Solo, by Sophie Dupuis
A fulfilled drag queen, Simon falls in love one evening with Olivier, a new stage colleague. It’s bad for him. With intoxicating style, energy and panache, Solo, by Sophie Dupuis, is as interested in the notion of a toxic relationship as in that of a narcissistic personality. The dazzling result releases this crazy kinetic energy specific to the director of Watch dog and of Underground. As the figurehead, Théodore Pellerin delivers a stunning performance; a real tour de force.
A respectable woman, by Bernard Émond
The rigor, dark beauty and poetry of this film by Bernard Émond illuminate this striking dive into Trois-Rivières in the 1930s, in the shadow of social classes exacerbated by the economic crisis. This portrait of an old couple, he, a penniless live-in (Martin Dubreuil), she, a dry-mouthed heiress (Hélène Florent), evokes the self-righteous cruelty of the elites with painful lucidity, plans for perfection and a love for all the dispossessed.
Caravaggio, by Michele Placido
The baroque fever of this biography of the tumultuous painter Caravaggio (1561-1610) in his Italy of the Inquisition and intrigue transports us into this film by Michele Placido. In the guise of the excellent Italian actor Riccardo Scamarcio, the artist of all excesses and master of chiaroscuro comes back to life through his flagship works, his multiple loves, his murderous sword, his devastating charm. With a solid cast (admirable Louis Garrel), the Vatican hypocrisy of the time is on display, but the painting triumphs.