With its sharp pen and its dramatic expressions, this booklet draws an obituary of the French Movie theater.
The author, essayist and journalist of the show “The Mask and the Pen” about France Inter, Eric Neuhoff, is a specialist in French cinema. Since winning the Renaudot Prize on Monday, November 4, the presses are fully utilized to print additional copies of (very) expensive French cinema an essay published on September 5, 2019 of Albin Michel was released.
Eric Neuhoff does not die in this 131-page autopsy. He describes a French cinema under perfusion, without zeal and imagination, surviving only through a system of public subsidies that produces works that would otherwise remain a dead letter … and it would not be worse. It’s all about this. In the course of the essay, his author continues to nail: “badly trimmed, not funny comedies, little romances to deceit, it is entitled to anything.” The perfusion, c is that of the Millefeuille of public aid, which goes from the National Film Center to the television channels and traverses the regions. Combine that with directors who have mostly the same background, come from the same schools and go beyond the boundaries of the Paris ring road, only to go to studios in the Czech Republic or Belgium cheaper, and you will have stillborn movies that are barely in the cinemas are visible, with loud flops.
“The French SOS Cinema desperately searches for talent – warning to all patrols – general mobilization is in order.” With Eric Neuhoff, everyone takes their place in this booklet in the form of a nostalgic ode to the cinema of the 1970s: “We really must have a good memory to remember that once the whole world was jealous Our seventh art was just Renoir here, Godard, Melville everywhere.” And he adds with some sense to the formula: “French Cinema: Oxymoron”
The essayistic dezingue actors and directors are utterly unfair and utterly subjective and delight in brats: At the beginning of She is the apathetic Huppert rape at home by a hooded person (…) His case is complete, the attacker disappears when he comes. Reaction of the victim: She reaches for her cell phone to order sushi the other way around the customers of Japanese restaurants. “ Or again: ” Ah, the boldness of Kechiche, the Lelouch class X (…) The parts of the legs in the air create interesting sounds. Is there a plumber in the hall? “
One could still associate his good words, which are on each side, with the note, like the one who complains about the poor film critic, who now turns to the projections about the slaughterhouse Written with a quill that warns more than alive of a Cinephil as it received a huge nostalgic mouth shot of an ancient Akariats resembling Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino, (very) beloved French cinema has received the favor the jurors of the Renaudot Prize.
(Very) Dear French Cinema by Eric Neuhoff, published on the 4th. September 2019 Albin Michel editions, 131 pages, 14 euros.
“You would be more inspired to make better films. Unfortunately, this task seems to be over. The smartest ones get down to the careful biography. In Rodin speaks Vincent Lindon in his beard. It is even less understood than the deputy Jean Lassale. At Papa Garrel, teachers jump on their students in the faculty bathroom. You always look tired (serious inconsistency: you have seen the curriculum of an academic?). The simple fact of putting your hands in the pockets of your duffle coat is enough to exhaust them. The girls live in the maids’ rooms, even though they have not been on the market for years. No Belmondo asks if he can pee in the sink. From time to time one of the figures jumps out the window. It’s relaxing. Related:
