#jacques nolot

[kino51]

Avant que j'oublie 2007

[cinemacentral666]

Nénette and Boni (1996)

Movie #1,083 • Part of My CLAIRE DENIS Director Focus

Above all else, Denis just drops you into a world. There's not much preamble or setup. You have to figure it out for yourself. In this sense, the camera doesn't really exist in any traditional way. One second Vincent Gallo is dressed like a sailor boy and the next our titular leads are blowing their shithead dad's brains out and fleeing on a motorcycle. Some of this is clearly the work of a demented imagination and/or dreaming but the points of delineation are not marked in a familiar fashion. Everything feels like an extension of Boni's psyche (psychosis?) but that's not quite right either. The audience is meant to float in an ether along the periphery of these characters and despite the lack of conventional development, they're as rich and colorful as any you'll likely come across.

Mothers and sons. Fathers and daughters. There’s some truly freudian shit here. This movie begs you to ask questions nobody really wants to know the answers to.

SCORE: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½

[whileiamdying]

‘The World After Us’ Review: Charming but Aimless Lessons in Parisian Life, Love and Literary Ambition

A young writer finds love, grief and finally, inspiration in a tender directorial debut that feels like a dry-run for bigger things to come. By Jessica Kiang

“Did you think you were making a French independent film?” rails literary agent Vincent (Mikaël Chirinian) in French independent film “The World After Us.” He’s angry with his callow young client, Labidi (Aurélien Gabrielli), because Labidi has abruptly changed tack on a novel that’s already been optioned, and has also changed its title to, inevitably, “The World After Us.” Louda Ben Salah-Cazanas’ directorial debut is sensitively made, well observed and beautifully performed, but as this rather desultory stab at reflexivity suggests, it doesn’t have many surprises in store.

Where it really works is as a character portrait of the young aspiring author, to great measure aided by Gabrielli’s soulful, faintly Charles Aznavour vibe and tamped-down, off-kilter charm. Labidi, whose doting and delightful working-class Muslim parents (Saadia Bentaïeb and Jacques Nolot) run a small café in Lyon, lives in Paris. Actually, he basically squats there, sleeping on a thin mattress on the floor of the tiny shoebox apartment of his big, sweet friend Aleksei (Léon Cunha Da Costa). He has published exactly one short story and is working on an important-sounding opus set during the Algerian War, presumably inspired by his own North African background.

Of course writing is mostly not-writing, and there Labidi excels, especially after he cutely meets Elisa (Louise Chevillotte, so great in “Synonyms” and soon to be seen in Paul Verhoeven’s “Benedetta”). Where up to this point he’s been a bit of a sadsack, his endearing pickup routine, which involves choking on a cigarette he doesn’t want and then writing his number on another and popping it in her mouth, reveals an unexpected, attractively offbeat confidence. Apparently he’s always been a hit with the ladies: On a visit back home his father reminisces about all the “knockouts” Labidi used to date, joking, “I don’t know how you managed, with that face of yours.”

Labidi and Elisa fall, quickly and believably, in love. And that’s where the trouble starts, inasmuch as Salah-Cazanas’ gentle screenplay, embellished with some literary narration contributed by noted Moroccan novelist Abdellah Taïa, deals in trouble at all. Perhaps the main issue with “The World After Us” is that it sketches characters we care for but never really worry about, and a certain amount of worry is useful in creating drama. Labidi gets into debt trying to have a coupled-up lifestyle with Elisa, complete with finding them an apartment that neither can afford. He starts to embark on get-rich-quick schemes, working as a Deliveroo driver, pilfering money from his glasses-store job and even indulging in some light insurance scamming, all of which leaves him little time or inclination to work on his book. Suddenly Labidi is a lover, not a writer.

When tragedy does strike, it’s the kind that most of us can be expected to suffer at some point, and it cues Labidi to get his relationships with Elisa, his bank balance and his muse into some sort of grown-up order. It’s a rite-of-passage story that might be cranked down just one key too low, but it does give Salah-Cazanas a neutral backdrop against which to develop an assured and promising directorial style. A low-lit, lightly scuffed palette lends Amine Berrada’s photography, which flexes easily between nervy juddering and dreamy smoothness, a warm yet realist feel. The soundtrack too is striking: Jean-Charles Bastion’s cello-heavy score ranges from harmony to fragility and contains all kinds of depths and colors, but it’s frequently nudged aside to make room for fun pop tracks and jazz cuts. One montage is set to Blue Boy’s ’90s club hit “Remember Me”; another is given a freewheeling energy by skittering jazz percussion.

The French independent film tradition to which Vincent refers is long and storied, and “The World After Us” is a solid entry into that canon, with an authentic contemporary feel and a calm perspective that subtly normalizes Labidi’s Muslim-Tunisian heritage, and his uncertain feelings about it, without making it the central subject. But the cinema of attractive young French people negotiating early-life crises wreathed in Gitanes smoke is also so familiar by now that mildly humorous insights into generational issues like the gig economy, lifestyle brands or the ludicrous cost of Parisian life are not enough to imbue any urgency. Such engaging, well-drawn characters are a pleasure to spend time with, and Salah-Cazanas has a bright future behind the camera, but so much of “The World After Us” feels like expertly crafted background for a drama that’s always about to start in the next scene, until there are no next scenes left.

‘The World After Us’ Review: Charming but Aimless Lessons in Parisian Life, Love and Literary Ambition

Reviewed at Berlin Film Festival (online), Berlin, March 3, 2021. Running time: 85 MIN. (Original title: "Le Monde Après Nous")

Production: (France) A Les Idiots and 21 Juin Cinema production. (World sales: Be for Films, Brussels.) Producers: Olivier Capelli, Laurent Rochette.

Crew: Director, screenplay: Louda Ben Salah-Cazanas. Camera: Amine Berrada. Editor: Vincent Tricon. Music: Jean-Charles Bastion.

With: Aurélien Gabrielli, Louise Chevillotte, Saadia Bentaïeb, Jacques Nolot, Léon Cunha Da Costa, Mikaël Chirinian, Hyacinthe Blanc, Noémie Schmidt, Isabelle Prim, Grégoire Lagrange. (French dialogue)

[byneddiedingo]

House of Pleasures (Bertrand Bonello, 2011)

Cast: Noémie Lvovsky, Hafsia Herzi, Céline Sallette, Jasmine Trinca, Adèle Haenel, Alice Barnole, Iliana Zabeth, Xavier Beauvois, Louis-Do de Lencquesaing, Jacques Nolot. Screenplay: Bertrand Bonello. Cinematography: Josée Deshais. Production design: Alain Guffroy. Music: Bertrand Bonello. 

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

L'arrière pays (Jacques Nolot, 1998)

[sacredwhores]

André Téchiné - Wild Reeds (1994)

[moviemosaics]

The Forbidden Room

directed by Guy Maddin and Evan Johnson, 2015

[dakotadanger]

The Forbidden Room (2015) was one of my favorite films in the year it was released. In 2021, I’m still captivated by this surreal phantasmagoria of imaginary lost films.

This movie has a nesting doll-like structure. It begins with a man teaching you how to take a bath. The camera flows into the drain and we’re in a doomed submarine. A woodsman appears in the submarine, and remembers how he was searching for a kidnapped woman named Margot. Margot dreams that she’s a singer in a night club with no name, but she can’t remember who she is. The crooner takes the stage and sings a song about a man who repeatedly begs a doctor to lobotomize him in order to rid him of his lust for butts.

That song, “The Final Derriere” by Sparks, is one of the greatest original songs ever written for a film. By this point, you’ve completely forgotten how you’ve gotten here, so we go back to Margot at the club, back to kidnapped Margot, the woodsman, the submarine, the bathtub. And then we go back down again, into a volcano’s dream, a newspaper story, a mustache’s lament, etc.

There aren’t many truly great contemporary surrealists, with David Lynch being the most notable. The Forbidden Room is a celebration of film, dreams, and surrealism, all of which it sees as the same thing. It celebrates the history of cinema by imagining these fantastic titles, and while the connections between each nested story are brilliant, it’s easy to forget how you got somewhere. Because dreams don’t really begin or end, they just happen. The details fade and all you remember is the climax.

The Forbidden Room is pure imagination. It’s hilarious and inspiring. If you feel like getting lost in dream after dream, I highly recommend this singular film. If you just want a taste, watch the music video I linked above.

Women Skeletons!

[genevieveetguy]

Happy End (Les derniers jours du monde), Arnaud Larrieu and Jean-Marie Larrieu (2009)

[popsixsquishcicerolipschitz]

The Forbidden Room | Trailer | NYFF53

Film at Lincoln Center

Guy Maddin's The Forbidden Room will have its New York Premiere at the 53rd New York Film Festival, which runs September 25 - October 11. More info: http://filmlinc.org/NYFF 

The four-man crew of a submarine is trapped underwater, running out of air. A classic scenario of claustrophobic suspense—at least until a hatch opens and out steps… a lumberjack? As this newcomer’s backstory unfolds (and unfolds and unfolds in over a dozen outlandish tales), Guy Maddin, cinema’s reigning master of feverish filmic fetishism, embarks on a phantasmagoric narrative adventure of stories within stories within dreams within flashbacks in a delirious globe-trotting mise en abyme the equal of any by the late Raúl Ruiz. 

Collaborating with poet John Ashbery and featuring sublime contributions from the likes of Jacques Nolot, Charlotte Rampling, Mathieu Amalric, legendary cult electro-pop duo Sparks, and not forgetting muses Louis Negin and Udo Kier, Maddin dives deeper than ever: only the lovechild of Josef von Sternberg and Jack Smith could be responsible for this insane magnum opus. A Kino Lorber release. 

More info: http://filmlinc.org/  Subscribe: http://www.youtube.com/subscription_c...  Like: http://facebook.com/filmlinc  Follow: http://twitter.com/filmlinc

[litafficionado]

L'arrière pays(1998) dir. Jacques Nolot

[clemsfilmdiary]

Under the Sand / Sous le sable (2000, François Ozon)

10/9/18

[frankenpagie]

1.15.20

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

L'arrière pays (Jacques Nolot, 1998)

(my little weakness too...)

[byneddiedingo]

Lambert Wilson and Juliette Binoche in Rendez-vous (André Téchiné, 1985) Cast: Lambert Wilson, Juliette Binoche, Wadeck Stanczak, Jean-Louis Trintignant, Dominique Lavanant, Jean-Louis Vitrac, Jacques Nolot, Anne Wiazemsky, Olimpia Carlisi, Caroline Faro. Screenplay: André Téchiné, Olivier Assayas. Cinematography: Renato Berta. Production design: Jean-Pierre Kohut-Svelko. Film editing: Martine Giordano. Music: Philippe Sarde. The volatile, nigh unpredictable behavior of the characters in Rendez-vous keeps the viewer off balance, which is not unexpected from its screenwriters, two major French writer-directors, André Téchiné and Olivier Assayas, who delight in making their characters walk on a moral tightrope. At one point, the story looks like a familiar pattern, a love triangle involving Nina, an aspiring actress (Juliette Binoche); Paulot, a naively infatuated young man (Wadeck Stanczak); and Quentin, a swaggerer who at some moments brandishes a razor (Lambert Wilson). But things keep taking odd turns: Quentin dies in what could be an accident but is possibly a suicide, and then returns as a ghost, or at least a figment of Nina's imagination. Enter, too, Scrutzler, a theater director (Jean-Louis Trintignant) who wants to put on a production of Romeo and Juliet, and casts Nina, who really isn't very good, against the objections of the producers, only to reveal that he had in mind Quentin for Romeo -- for rather perverse reasons. Meanwhile, Paulot, who works as a real estate agent, pursues Nina, only to reject her after finally succeeding in having sex with her -- a bliss in proof and proved, a very woe. It's all very well-acted -- this was Binoche's first major film role -- but there's something unfocused about the story, as if the writers were making it up as they went along instead of having a clear goal in mind.

[fettesans]

Top, Jack Pierson, The End of The World, 2022, site-specific installation part of High Desert Test Sites on view through May 22, dimensions variable. Via. Bottom, screen captures from Avant que j’oublie (Before I forget), directed by Jacques Nolot, 2007. Via.

--

The economy of presence is not only relevant for people whose time is in demand and who could basically sell (or barter) more time than they have, but even more so to those that must  work multiple jobs in order to make a living or even not make a living. It is equally relevant to   those who coordinate a jumble of micro jobs, complete with the logistical nightmare of harmonising competing schedules and negotiating priorities, or that are on permanent standby in the hope that their time and presence will become exchangeable for something else eventually. The aura of unalienated, unmediated and precious presence depends on a temporal infrastructure that consists of fractured schedules and dysfunctional and collapsing  just-in-time economies in which people frantically try to figure out reverberating asychronicities and the continuous breakdown of riff raff timetables. It´s junktime, broken down, kaputt on any level.  Junktime is wrecked, discontinuous, distracted and runs on several parallel tracks.  If you tend to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and if you even manage to be in two wrong places at the same wrong time it means you live within junktime. With junktime, any causal link is scattered. The end is before the beginning and the beginning was taken down for copyright violations. Anything in-between has been slashed because of budget cuts.  Junktime is the material base of the idea of pure unmediated endless presence.

Junktime is exhausted, interrupted, dulled by Ketamine, Lyrica, and corporate imagery. Junktime happens when information is not power, but comes as pain. Acceleration is yesterday´s delusion.  Today you find yourself crashed and failing. You try to occupy the square or bandwidth, but who is going to pick up the kid from school?  Junktime depends on velocity as in the lack thereof. It is time´s substitute: it´s a crash test dummy.

Hito Steyerl, from The Terror of Total Dasein, 2015. Watch.