Vive la France?
The latest by Woody Allen kind of asks us to separate the art from the artist. That only works with remarkable art.
Coup de Chance
Director: Woody Allen • Writer: Woody Allen
Starring: Lou de Laâge, Melvil Poupaud, Niels Schneider, Valérie Lemercier
France / UK • 1hr 35mins
Opens Hong Kong November 30 • IIA
Grade: C
France, God bless it, has proven a safe haven for all manner of Hollywood perv. Roman Polanski has famously found a home in France after the judge in his American sex offence case (from 1977) decided to shit all over a plea agreement and toss his ass in jail. He remains what we call a fugitive from justice. In the country’s defence, it seems to have washed its hands of Putin-booster and alleged serial rapist Gérard Depardieu, so kudos. Which brings us to Coup de Chance, the latest by New York’s favourite son, step-daughter marrying, alleged abuser Woody Allen.
Now, under normal circumstances a filmmaker’s personal backstory has no bearing on their art, and it shouldn’t. But to try and pretend the unsavoury stories don’t hover over everything about Allen is straight delusional. Allen has not been charged with a crime under any law, so he is, technically, not guilty of anything beyond being skeevy and distasteful – which predates any abuse scandals. But it’s really hard to separate Allen from his work when he insists on doing the same creepy – and dead dull – shit he’s been doing since Manhattan. You don’t have to think Allen is pervy to find his sexual and gender politics old and his neurotic Jewish kvetching tired.
Age appropriate? Sacre bleu!
Coup de Chance (literally “stroke of luck”) premiered out of competition at Venice this year – because Italy is France’s only true rival for pervy forgiveness I guess – after securing a budget from small production houses in the UK and France; the Americans want nothing to do with him. It’s also the most recent stop on his European tour after the fetishistic Match Point, the outdated Vicky Cristina Barcelona, the marginally amusing Midnight in Paris (thanks to cameos by Adrien Brody and Corey Stoll as Salvador Dalí and Ernest Hemingway), and the execrable Rifkin’s Festival.
Paris is Paris the way London was London in Match Point, so let’s just put that aside. This is Paris re-imagined as an Allenesque, jazz-infused Brooklyn. No one drives a bus in Allen’s world, so we start with art auctioneer Fanny Fournier (Lou de Laâge, Mélanie Laurent’s Respire) running into an old schoolmate on the street one day. Alain (Niels Schneider, I Killed My Mother) is a writer, because this is a Woody Allen movie, and the two start hanging out and remembering the good ol’ days. They start an affair. Fanny’s husband Jean (Melvil Poupaud, One Fine Morning, Polanski’s J’accuse) is a garden variety ruthless bizniz guy who’s super-rich, and the two share a fabulous, New York-style apartment, probably in the 7th arrondissement. He suspects her infidelity and hires a PI for confirmation. Did I mention he was ruthless? Also, did I mention he was 50 and Fanny is 30-ish? Because this is a Woody Allen movie.
Coup de Chance is essentially what it says in its title. It’s a dramedy-thriller (an Allen “thriller”) about chance, or luck, how it rears its head in our lives and the occasional good fortune it can bring. Fanny and Jean seem like the ideal couple, but there are cracks in the surface of their impeccably manicured lives. She feels like a “trophy wife” (she is), he’s afraid he can’t command her youthful attention (he can’t). Is Alain the random jolt of life she needs (yup). Things take a conspiratorial turn for everyone when Fanny’s mom, Camille (Valérie Lemercier, who hilariously starred as a 12-year-old Celine Dion avatar in Aline), shows up for a visit and her retired, nosy nature upends the Fournier home. Shot by legendary Italian (because of course!) cinematographer Vittorio Storaro (Apocalypse Now, The Last Emperor) Coup de Chance is a featherweight film that doesn’t make any attempt at 86-year-old Allen’s signature observations about relationships and male/female dynamics (thank Christ). It’s one of his most trifling efforts and almost feels like a middle finger raised to anyone (those under 50) who suggests he should just go away. Based on the bland AF art on display here? 100% agree with them. — DEK