VENUS IN FUR

Roman Polanski, 2013
Starring: Emmanuelle Seigner, Mathieu Amalric

Despite a controversial, sometimes tragic life, the 80-year-old Roman Polanski just won’t quit and has scoffed at the notion of retiring. His eclectic, influential directorial career has produced a number of dark, visionary classics, while even his minor efforts are interesting examples of his prowess as a writer and filmmaker. 2013 saw the release of his twentieth feature length film, La Vénus à la fourrure aka Venus in Fur, which was finally given a US theatrical release in late July and early August. As with the previous Carnage (2011), this is an adaptation of a stage play with a small cast, fixed set, and claustrophobic quarters. Much of Polanski’s best work is concerned with the effect of paranoia, sexual terror, and power games within a confined space – Knife in the Water (1962), Repulsion (1965), Cul-de-sac (1966), Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Tenant (1976), Death and the Maiden (1994), The Pianist (2002), The Ghost (2010), and Carnage – and while Venus in Fur may not be among his masterpieces, it is a fascinating exploration of these themes.

Writer and director Thomas (Mathieu Amalric) has been auditioning women all day for his new play, an adaptation of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s nineteenth century novel about masochism, Venus in Furs. Just as he is about to leave for the night, a bedraggled woman pushes her way into the theater and begs for a chance to audition. Though she is late, not listed on the register, and seems rather airheaded, the strange woman pleads with Thomas until he agrees to see her audition. Curiously, she shares the same name as the play’s heroine, Wanda, and soon convinces Thomas that she has far more to offer than first meets the eye. The audition, which continues throughout the night, becomes an intense power play and reveals Thomas’s fears and desires as he is dominated by Vanda/Wanda.

Based on the recent, popular, and award-winning play of the same name by American playwright David Ives, anyone expecting an adaptation of Sacher-Masoch’s novel is going to be in for quite a surprise. Ives’ play is more inspired by Venus in Furs (1870) than actually based on it, providing an intricate critique of traditional gender roles and masculine notions of fantasy and control. Sacher-Masoch’s novel concerns the relationship between a man, Severin, and his mistress Wanda. She dominates him sexually and he becomes her slave until she eventually meets another lover and loses interest, hoping to be dominated herself. In keeping with the well-established theory that the masochistic partner is really in charge – and thus guides the fantasy – Severin is in charge at all times in the novel. In a riff on Pygmalion, he transforms Wanda into his fantasy woman, a being of near mythic proportions.

In Polanski’s film, things are thankfully more complicated and the film refreshingly critiques the male fantasist attitudes behind Venus in Furs. This is an exploration of misogyny and gender roles, as well as men’s depiction of women as fantasy creatures rather than individual beings. There is fantasy, desire, domination, and submission, but there is also the sense that Vanda has been in control of the proceedings from the beginning. She coaxes his fantasies from him and changes them, just as she changes his play. As the novel uses a book-within-a-book format, the film adaptation mirrors this with a play-within-a-film, highlighting the theatricality of sexual fantasy. There is also the sense that Polanski is making fun of the trappings of S&M, which are the admittedly predictable and purposefully cartoonish backdrop for this power play.

Vanda’s costumes — a cheap reproduction of an 18th century dress and a corset, dog collar, and lingerie — poke fun at misogyny and recycled fantasies of submission and control. While she is dressed predictably, Polanski’s wife Emmanuelle Seigner quickly and capably transcends the character with humor, wit, and a deep sensuality. She’s one of the film’s shining moments and there is also something to be said for the fact that Polanski cast a woman in her late 40s in the role, rather than adhering to the stage play’s use of a much younger woman.

The film’s humor is subtle, but ever-present, right down to the use of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” as Thomas’s ring tone. Those legendary warrior maidens are explicitly linked to Thomas’s absent fiancée, who keeps calling his phone, while the closing credits roll over a gallery of famous paintings of mythic women. Perhaps the funniest moment is the excellent use of the set, which is supposed to be leftover from a musical version of Stagecoach. Vanda and Thomas manipulate and change the set through lighting; her audition first begins in a theatrical version of the Old West, but it soon changes to an intimate boudoir setting. Finally, she puts back-lighting on one of the cacti, so it that it resembles a massive, phallic statue.

This latter set piece is also connected to the film’s sense of the ominous and unpredictable. With the dark, empty theater and thunder and lightning storm moving in and out of the soundscape, there is a sense that something dreadful is about to happen. The sense of autobiography is also unsettling. Polanski is directing his wife in the starring role, while the only other actor, the excellent Mathieu Amalric, is a clear stand-in for Polanski himself. Both men are slight in stature and have handsome, if somewhat bug-eyed faces. Like Polanski, Amalric is both an actor and director. While American audiences will primarily remember him from Quantum of Solace (2008), Grand Budapest Hotel (2014), and The Diving Bell and Butterfly (2007, alongside Seigner), he’s directed a handful of shorts, documentaries, and feature-length films, including On Tour (aka Tournée, 2010), where he also stars as the egotistical director of a traveling burlesque troupe. His Thomas runs the range of vulnerable, selfish, quirky, artistic, misogynistic, sympathetic, lustful, and more, essentially mirroring Polanski’s own changeable public persona.

Though this is one of his smaller films, in terms of scope and emotional resonance, it’s still a deeply personal work. Polanski raises many questions, but refuses to answer any of them. Is there a real Vanda/Wanda? Is Thomas a stand in for Polanski himself? Where are the diving lines between man and woman, fantasy and reality, performance and identity, director and actor, artist and muse, or husband and wife? Polanski’s refusal to provide a resolution reminded me of the far more visceral Repulsion, which shows an internal fantasy bubbling over into real-world action. Though tamer, Venus in Fur is more concerned with how internal fantasy shapes the performative aspects of personality, action, and waking life.

This dialogue-heavy, fairly static one-room black comedy will disappoint fans expecting a more literal adaptation of Venus in Furs or anyone hoping for a return to Polanski’s darker, earlier works. This is ultimately an intellectual, thoroughly middle-aged, bourgeois exploration of sexual fantasy. Both sex and violence are conspicuously absent, allowing for some aggressive and comedic verbal sparring that centers on the role of fantasy, desire, power, performance, and role play. A mediocre script is given a boost by excellent performances from Seigner and Amalric, confident direction from Polanski, some wonderful cinematography from Paweł Edelman, and a thoughtful, whimsical score from Alexandre Desplat. This comes recommended for fans of Polanski’s later work, such as Carnage and Death and the Maiden, but anyone afraid to sit down and read subtitles should avoid it.

THE TENANT

Roman Polanski, 1976

Starring: Roman Polanski, Isabelle Adjani, Melvyn Douglas, Jo Van Fleet

A man, Trelkovsky, finds out about a newly vacated apartment in Paris and inquires about moving in. It seems the previous tenant, Simone, jumped from the window and badly injured herself. She dies a few days later in the hospital and Trelkovsky moves in to her apartment, which is still full of her belongings. His landlord and neighbors, who are all strange and obsessed with quiet, begin to wear on the passive Trelkovsky. He has a few friends over and receives a complaint about noise. As the days pass, they complain about seemingly any movement he makes, among other things, and he finds a human tooth hidden in his wall. 

Trelkovsky comes to believe that his neighbors are trying to transform him into Simone, as they increasingly request him to pick up her habits. This eventually drives the paranoid Trelkovsky to buy a wig and put on some of Simone’s make up and one of her dresses. He tries to form a relationship with Stella, a friend of Simone’s, but comes to believe that she is part of his neighbors’ conspiracy to drive him mad. He becomes desperate to avoid becoming Simone at any cost and his life begins to unravel. 

The Tenant is the last film in director Roman Polanski’s Apartment Trilogy, which includes Repulsion and Rosemary’s Baby. All three films focus on the growing madness and paranoia an individual (female characters in the first two films) experiences in a claustrophobic apartment setting. He explores the unnaturalness of living in a small space and the hazards of city life, particularly the dissolution of identity and the encroachment of society upon the individual. The Tenant explores these themes in more overt and comic ways than the earlier films in the trilogy.

That is the most important thing to remember about The Tenant - it is an absurdist work full of subtle humorist work and if you think of it as a straightforward horror film, you are likely to be disappointed. Trelvoksky’s attempts to follow the rules his neighbors lay down for him are comical. Their obsession with noise becomes contagious, jarring, and invasive. It would be easy to see both the novel and film as a critique against either the Nazi or Soviet governments. Both Polanski and the novel’s author Roland Topor lived through the former. 

Based on Topor’s novel Le Locataire Chimerique (1964), this is yet another film about an outsider, the film is concerned with issues of identity and privacy. Trelkovsky is seen as a foreigner and constantly has to remind everyone that he is a French citizen, despite his Polish name and accent. His foreignness increases once he moves into the apartment, where the other tenants constantly set him apart. It is unclear if this is in his mind or is really happening. Some elements seem supernatural, but unlike the more developed Rosemary’s Baby, The Tenant keeps things as ambiguous as possible.

There are definite elements of body horror that are also subtly present in the earlier Apartment trilogy films - the woman who jumps out the window and Trelvoksky’s visit to her in the hospital, the disabled girl, a tooth hidden in the wall, Trelkovsky seeing doubles of himself, the car accident, and his gradual transvestism. 

In addition to directing, Polanski also stars as Trelkovsky. Polanski had previously acted in his own films and the works of other directors, including a starring role in his comedy The Fearless Vampire Killers. He does an excellent job as the quickly unraveling Trelkovsky and is in nearly every shot of the film. He is funny, manic, and creepy in turns. He’s supported by a number of well-known actors, namely Isabelle Adjani, who plays his brief love interest, Stella. A mix of neurotic and ditzy, she exudes none of the madness or vulnerability found in her more famous roles. Shelley Winters and Melvyn Douglas also have great cameos and bring the full force of their personalities down on the film, remaining far more memorable than their limited screen time.

This is one of Polanski’s least regarded works and I’ve heard a lot of complaints about the glacial pacing, but there is some great atmosphere and wonderful cinematography from Polanski’s regular collaborator Sven Nykvist. There’s also a lovely score from Philippe Sarde that references some of the more comical elements of the film. If you can approach this more as a paranoid, absurdist tale, rather than as a horror film, it has much more to offer. The Tenant is available on DVD, though hopefully one day it will join the other two films of the Apartment Trilogy with a special edition Criterion release.  A box set would be even better. 

THE GHOST WRITER

Roman Polanski, 2010
Starring: Ewan McGregor, Pierce Brosnan, Olivia Williams, Kim Cattrall, Timothy Hutton

For those of you who don't already know this, I'm cuckoo for Roman Polanski. He's one of the greatest living directors and is responsible for some of my favorite films: Knife in the Water, Repulsion, Rosemary's Baby, The Tenant, The Fearless Vampire Killers, etc. Sure, he's had a few questionable efforts, but nothing I would outright call a bad film. When I saw the trailer for The Ghost Writer, I had mixed, but optimistic feelings. I went into the theater feeling nervous, but it's a wonderful film. It's a near perfect thriller and you should get your ass to the theater before it closes and you have to wait for the DVD release.

The Ghost Writer is an adaptation of Robert Harris's novel The Ghost and he co-wrote the screenplay with Polanski. A writer (McGregor), whose character is not actually given a name, is hired to finish the memoirs of former British Prime Minister Adam Lang (a transparent stand-in for Tony Blair). The original writer, Lang's assistant, has recently washed up on the beach with a stomach full of alcohol. Accident? Suicide? Murder? No one seems to be sure. The writer is flown to a small, New England island where Lang's high security home and compound is located. In addition to a large number of guards and a handful of assistants, Lang lives there with his wife, Ruth (Williams), and his personal assistant/mistress, Amelia (Cattrall). The writer is given limited access to the manuscript and an increasingly ridiculous deadline to finish the book.

Coinciding with his arrival, Lang has been accused by a former colleague of crimes against humanity, of purposefully delivering potential terrorism suspects to the CIA for torture and interrogation. The resident writer is swept up in all of this with increasing urgency, as he attempts to interview Lang, finish the manuscript, and deal with the growing realization that everything is not as it seems. He stumbles across a number of clues that Lang has a shady relationship with the CIA, something of critical importance in the face of so many serious, legal accusations. Against his better judgment, the writer follows the breadcrumb trail of clues, which leads him somewhere neither he nor Lang expect.

The Ghost Writer is part thriller, part murder mystery, and definitely borrows from noir. The writer is, unusually, a character without real motivation or, it would seem, emotions. He's an Everyman slapped down in the middle of an extremely tense political and personal situation that he has absolutely nothing to do with and no relationship to. The previous writer haunts him in a physical sense. In a predictable though very uncomfortable sequence, he is forced to move into his predecessor's room and make due with a closet full of the dead man's clothing. Emotions in the film are cold, tense, and unpredictable. There is a definite sense that everyone is hiding something, even our writer. Sexuality is a powerful force in the film, though not at all as you would expect. It quietly seeps through the film, expressing itself through power relationships, rather than emotional bonds. The only real sex scene in the film is probably one of the least erotic things I've ever seen in my entire life and for that alone is quite masterful. It's amazing how uncomfortable a scene can be with almost no real physical interaction, nudity, or sex.

The acting is solid. Apparently Ewan McGregor replaced Nicholas Cage a few months before shooting began, which gives me a deep and abiding sensation of relief. He's a little understated, but perfect for the part. Pierce Brosnan, who I usually want to punch in the face, is actually very good. His best role is clearly in Mrs. Doubtfire when he gets hit in the back of the head with some fruit, but he definitely gets points for his portrayal of Adam Lang.

The real star of the film, however, is the set. It is absolutely incredible. Most of the film either takes place during a storm or in Lang's disturbing, postmodern house. The bizarre paintings and sculptures give the set a real level of menace and sexuality, particularly considering that they are coupled with extensive security equipment. There are also a lot of enormous windows, which gives the set a further level of surreality. Characters inside appear to be outside, usually in the middle of a threatening storm or on the desolate, gray beach.

I really can't say enough good things about The Ghost Writer. The score is perfectly Hitchcockian. The pacing is pretty brilliant, though a tad slow in the middle section, though you'll forget about that as soon as Polanski amps the plot right up to eleven. The shots and film itself are surprising: there are a lot of close ups which, due to the film quality, almost appear to be in 3-D, giving the characters a looming, claustrophobic feel. Though this is technically a political thriller, Polankski brings it to the level of the personal. There is the constant threat of terrorism and media that gives the film a distinctly paranoid edge and a subtle, biographical note, even though the story is not Polanski's own.

The film has received positive critical reception and it won the Berlin Film Festival's award for Best Director, which is also where the film debuted in early February. Amazingly, it was completed while Polanski was under house arrest. There are also a number of stand in locations, due to the director's limited ability to travel. Polanski has clearly become the heir to Hitchcock. His technically impressive film work and menacing writing ensure his status as a master of suspense. Here's the DVD. Buy it now!!!