Weekly Review -- The art of happiness and sorrow

Midnight in Paris (2011) -- Do you know what happiness is?

It might seem like a simple question. It is anything but.

Is true happiness doing work that you love? Is it interacting with people that you care about? Is it loving who you are? Is it freedom to be your complicated self? Maybe all of the above? A rumination on individuality and bliss, Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris is part fantasy and part satire, lampooning the fast and ruthless North American lifestyle.

Screenwriter Gil (Owen Wilson) has arrived in Paris with his fiancée Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her parents. Gil is at the crossroads in both his personal and creative life. His career, although lucrative, is not fulfilling, while the novel he is writing is at a standstill. His relationship with the emotionally distant Inez is also missing the mark. One night, by whimsical happenstance, Gil falls into a time warp that takes him to his favorite time and place, 1920s Paris. The air of bohemian celebration soon inspires him anew, but his new reality is about to collide with his old one...

I cannot praise the film's originality enough. Not many filmmakers are capable of drawing sketches of humanity's quirks through dialogue, and Woody Allen is one of the greats. From Sleeper to Celebrity to Vicky Cristina Barcelona, his writing never fails to surprise me with its insights to life and love. The characters brim with a polished yet spontaneous vivacity, some of them lost in their neuroses and often finding themselves through the same. Midnight in Paris deftly combines classy laughs and thoughtful morsels of philosophy, enveloped in joie de vivre. Always on the contemplative side, never preachy or condescending to its characters or its audience, this fantasy transforms its context from "what if" to "why not" through its wispy vignettes. Gil's Twilight Zone experiences serve as a terrific contradiction to his earthly existence, where he is being hounded for being himself. It can be said that whereas Gil and his love of Paris are on one bank of the Seine, his fiancée, her family and the cynicism they drag along can be found on another, all wagging their judgmental fingers at him. The question is, which side wins? 

The cast is terrific. Wilson's trademark boyish enthusiasm serves him well in the role of idealistic Gil, while McAdams shines as the pretentious Inez. Another standout is Michael Sheen, an actor that has already shown his transformative abilities in films like Underworld and The Queen. Here he delves into the quasi-intellectual mess that is Paul with relish, making one ponder how it is that a man without a soul can keep going. It is no wonder that Inez is enamored of him; like Paul, she is only capable of living in her own tiny bubble. Corey Stoll is incredible as a pragmatically honest Ernest Hemingway; Kathy Bates adds some nice comedic touches as Gertrude Stein; and Tom Hiddleston is all joy and exuberance as F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Midnight in Paris is one of 2011's best films, putting a new spin on the art of the original work. It operates on pure imagination, never forgetting its satirical leanings or the human factor that is the focus. For all the dreamers having problems fitting in today's hectic world, this film is yours to discover.           

10/10

Melancholia (2011) -- One cannot deny that sadness is an intricate, exhausting and intricately exhausting state of mind. It simultaneously tricks you and drains you, leaving you bereft of hope and heightening the negativity roaming around the corners of your brain. Any kind of anguish is unpleasant to deal with, but what if these feelings grow to the point of no return? This is the question that Lars von Trier poses in his beautiful harbinger of cinematic doom, also known as Melancholia.

By all accounts, Justine (Kirsten Dunst) should be happy. She is about to exchange vows with gentle and affectionate Michael (Alexander Skarsgård) in a beautiful ceremony, held at her sister Claire's (Charlotte Gainsbourg) mansion. Her boss (Stellan Skarsgård) plans to reward her talent with a surprise. Her family and friends have gathered to wish the newlyweds well, while the night seems tailor-made for lovers. 

However, Justine is far from even being content. She sneaks away from the party more than once, not caring about convention or about Claire's organizational efforts. She feels a desperate need to be alone, obviously unable to expend energy on random conversations and chance encounters. Her heart plunged in a deep depression, Justine is tired of life itself. As if these feelings are not overwhelming enough, there is another dark cloud hanging over the wedding party. A planet named Melancholia is passing Earth and may collide with it, instantly shattering the world as we know it. If one thinks life is not worth living, what happens when there is no life to live at all anymore? 

Lars von Trier is a master at creating an ambiance of despair and listlessness, as he has proved with Breaking the Waves and Dancer in the Dark, among other works. In Melancholia, he creates the same kind of darkness but, as befits the traits of the condition depicted, in a more insular manner. I also need to give praise to cinematographer Manuel Alberto Claro for bringing the emotionally claustrophobic apocalypse to life. It is Justine's internal tragedy that translates into and takes over the way that the viewer sees the film's realm. She is so drained of interest, so fragile from emptiness, that she is simply enduring every step she takes. Silence through Justine's eyes is genuine, deafening stillness; even the wedding ceremony loses a lot of its joy once the character appears in a frame. One of the most poignant parts, the heartbreaking photograph sequence, sums up the condition in a nutshell. In fact, I will go so far as to say that the approaching planet represents Justine's depression itself, about to consume her and her family whole. That is simply what this state of mind is -- a world of its own, a raging vortex that threatens to suck into it the patient and everyone around them.

The acting is excellent and the cast impeccable. Dunst carries the film, immersing herself in Justine's pathology and her quirks. Her choices are brave and unpredictable, with the viewer not knowing if a scene will lead to a mental breakdown or emotional meltdown. Charlotte Gainsbourg and Kiefer Sutherland are fantastic as the long-suffering sister and her uptight husband, and Alexander Skarsgård shows versatility in the role of meek Michael. Lastly, Charlotte Rampling and John Hurt provide bitter comic relief as Justine's parents.

Inspired by von Trier's own depressive episode, Melancholia is a startling and honest account of a devastating illness, wrapped up in an existential disaster drama. It examines how an individual's lack of will can impact themselves and those closest to them, who get swept into the pit of hurt, their attempts to help insufficient or unanswered. Moreover, it rightfully shows life as a fleeting instant, merely a grain of sand that the universe ponders, toys with and, finally, blows away.

9/10