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Film

Don't Listen To The Other Guy (LHCV)

Posted by Drew / November 11, 2005

Sick of running into the jerky blog-master and his pitying glances every time I go out alone, and also maintaning my strategy of never going out so that I will not run into my ex-boyfriend, and, more importantly, he will not run into me, I am now familiar with a wide assortment of videostore offerings. And I know exactly what we all need in this grey and hoody and raw yet beautiful setting that is a Canadian November: a time for reflection, for repression, for growing older, a time for, in 2 words, Charlotte Rampling.

She is just so very awesome and her insouciant attitude towards life, looks and love is one that we should all aspire to incorporate into our own worlds. If you have been introduced to Rampling through her recent work with French whiz-kid Ozon, you should check out some of her earlier stuff, and if you know her earlier stuff you should get down with her second incarnation. Best idea: do both at once, a Rampling double bill.

First Up:
Sous le sable / Under the Sand (Francois Ozon; 2000)

Quiet, meditative and completely engrossing film of grief, loss and the stunning and totally anti-American proposition that sometimes you don't get over things. This is assured and lovely filmmaking, and Rampling is wonderful to watch as the new widow who, despite her efforts, cannot get over the sudden death of her husband.

This film is the sort of low-key, understated but perfecty done film that has made French cinema so very interesting at the exact moment it has ceded its global prominence.

But French cinema is no way to spend an entire evening, nor does the above film exploit Rampling's many talents to their fullest, so second up is the eccentric Georgy Girl (Silvio Narissano).

Georgy Girl (Silvio Narizzano; 1966)
The oddest thing about this multiple Oscar nominee is just how totally pervy it is. It's British, so that makes sense, but, seriously, the film is just pervy not sexy--an impossible sell in today's rapture-awaiting world. Rampling has possibly the greatest anti-maternal scene in the history of cinema, and James Mason is here, too, as a middle-aged skirt chaser with an old-man crush on the dorky Lynn Redgrave.
Two things to love about this film:
Rampling's unbelievabe glamour and all-around coolness.
The film's conclusion, which overtly suggests that having kids and raising a family is a default position, for those with nothing better to do. Swinging London, indeed.

Go crazy.

Other Cities: Toronto