Irma Vep

viewed January 29, 2000 on video

For full information about this film, click here

I was initially put off by how this film acts important and deep while trying to pass as casual pseudo-documentary, but after I got past that hang-up, I realize that there is much more to this film. It realy grows much upon reconsideration, especially if you've ever wondered what become of the national cinema that thrived while riding the New Wave a few decades ago.  Director Oliver Assayas takes on their legacy by staking a position on filmmaking firmly placed between an old generation of arcane intellectual burnouts and a new one of pop-crazed pulpheads, claiming that most people involved in french film are not so much interested in the state of film than in the buffeting of their egos and the pursuit of vanity.  

In his eyes, the state of French cinema sucks, heavily influenced in ways both good and bad by world cinema, and suffering from an identity crisis as a result.  We witness how an adaptation of the classic silent French serial Les Vampyres gets a makeover by way of a Hong Kong actress as the lead, wearing an outfit influenced by Batman returns; and when the original director withdraws from the production, a Spanish director takes the helm, doing heavy academic research on vampires instead of watching the original film. As the polar opposite of the director, Cheung is a figure who has complete faith and joy in movies.  She is up to doing anything for the role, getting into a tight, stuffy rubber suit through hours of shooting.  She even wears it in her hotel room and goes on an adventure, prowling through the rooms along her hallway.  She seems to be the only person involved with the production who is having fun.  It is clear that Assayas adores her spirit and wishes it would spread throughout the French film industry.  Of course, the people involved in the production can't get past her nationality, considering it a travesty that the lead is being played by a foreigner.  

As I mentioned earlier, the first sequence, an extended shot that swirls around a busy film production office (an obvious riff on The Player) set a doubtful tone in my mind about the movie's mixed approach, being both off-hand and show-offish..  But this film is much better than The Player, because somewhere in the midst of the wasteland it depicts there remains a genuine love of film amongst a spirited few.  It maintains that there's something amazing that film is capable of doing that transcends the madness of the business.  The final sequence, a beautiful silent scratched film, is the film's aesthetic climax, as well as a subversive fuck-you to the entire film industry, and an eerie tribute to the spellbinding wonder that is Maggie Cheung.  

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