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A Lackluster Holiday Gathering

From the start, the audience is mired with abundant detail concerning the Vuillards. Within minutes we’re introduced to the entire family, one by one, and receiving all this information at such a brisk pace is like watching dominoes fall like bricks. And so Abel, Junon, Joseph (who’s dead), Elizabeth, Henri, and Ivan are thrust onto the scene, but it’s hard to care much about their circumstances due to all the excess.  Also disappointing is how so little is left to the imagination: for example, do we really need to hear Elizabeth (Anne Consigny), the eldest sibling, say, “I’m sterile, unhappy, and angry?” She’s a playwright who hates her brother Henri (Mathieu Amalric) and has caused his five-year “mental and social assassination” by banishing him from all family-related events. This says everything about Elizabeth and her relationship with Henri. Her self-flagellating rants serve only to pile on what we already know about her.   

 

The filmmakers don’t trust their audience, that’s the problem. Or maybe they’re overly meticulous, force-feeding exposition in big heaps instead of letting the camera do the talking. Want to hear Henri lambaste his sister in a letter? Fine, then not only will you hear the entire letter, but you’ll hear it with Henri speaking directly to the camera – and in close-up. And in case you don’t get the gist of his meaning, you’ll hear him say things like, “Sister, you have offended your blood.”   Okay, I think we get the idea that these two aren’t exactly peachy. On the other hand, want to hear a cousin (Laurent Capelluto) profess his love to Ivan’s wife, Sylvia (Chiara Mastroianni), and say things like, “I tried to be a part of your world?” Well, you’ll find that here as well. And no matter that Simon is drunk. It’s the Desplechin and Emmanuel Bourdieu screenwriting team who are tipsy with exposition and soapy melodrama, allowing Simon to uncork even more killer whoppers like “My life is a prison” and “I live for you.” Somehow, he beds Sylvia despite his poetic misfires. Oddly, when Ivan discovers the pair awakening the following morning, all he manages to do is smile, then walk away.  Really?  Is this how a Frenchman reacts to adultery committed right under his nose? Can Ivan just saunter off as if his wife were sleeping with a mere stuffed animal? It’s remarkable how all potential drama is left out regarding this inherently volatile situation. For some reason, the filmmakers want nothing to do with it.

 

And what of the drama surrounding the bone marrow transplant? Well, there isn’t much to speak of here, either.  Junon (Catherine Deneuve) is left with a most interesting choice in donors, ultimately opting for the lout Henri because he was sprung from her womb, but the overall effect is anticlimactic. Had the filmmakers freed the players to be less stylistic and more realistic, and had they allowed scenes to evolve instead of fall flat, then Junon’s health crisis might have resonated with more power. It’s something of an irony that Henri is the son Junon doesn’t like. “My body can’t stand you, I’m rejecting you,” she jokingly tells him as she’s being fed his marrow.

 

Sounds like an accurate assessment of the film.               

 

In French with English subtitles, A Christmas Tale is Not Rated and is currently showing at the Ritz Five, Philadelphia.