Butler's Cinema Scene

Juliette Binoche

“LET THE SUNSHINE IN” My rating: B+

94 minutes | No MPAA rating

Movies about privileged people who can’t stop moaning about their boring, unfulfilled lives generally give me a throbbing keister ache.

Claire Denis’ “Let the Sunshine In” is the exception, a profile of unhappiness delivered with such care, insight and actorly magnificence that you can forgive the self-absorption exhibited by most of the characters.

We stick with the ironically titled “…Sunshine…” because it’s an almost perfect vehicle for Juliette Binoche, one of France’s greatest actresses, here at the peak of her powers.

A confession: I’ve always admired Binoche’s thespian skills, but have long been perplexed by her status as a great beauty.  I  never saw it…until now. The older Binoche gets, the sexier she becomes. Go figure.

Here she plays Isabelle, a middle-aged artist (abstract expressionism, naturally) who in the wake of a divorce has been cast upon emotional and sexual shoals. Denis’ screenplay (written with Christine Angot) follows Isabelle’s ever-rebounding relationships with a half dozen men, none of whom seem capable of providing what she wants.

Of course, Isabelle may not know what she wants. There’s more than a little neurotic neediness in Binoche’s performance…after a while you may come to the conclusion her unmistakeable neediness is a big part of the problem. (Even her clothing sends weird messages…she’s big on mini-skirts, go-go boots and plunging necklines that have a hookerish feel.)

As the film starts she’s breaking off her affair with Vincent (Xavier Beauvoir), a burly banker who bitches about his dull world of commerce and finds her artistic endeavors quite erotic. “You charm the pants off me,” he says, though it’s likely he’d lose the trousers whether Isabelle  was charming or not. Problem is, Vincent can’t help exhibiting the alpha-male assholery that is key to his profession.

Juliette Binoche, Nicolas Duvauchelle

Then there’s the moody theatre actor  (Nicolas Duvauchelle) who complains that he’s sick of the “nightly grind.” His marriage is collapsing, and Isabelle is less than charmed when he confides that after their evening together he feels guilty.

She’s still having sex with her ex, Francois (Laurent Greville), who has already embarked on another relationship.  He’s indignant when Isabelle accuses him of “faking it” in bed. (Can guys do that?)

All of these people talk, talk, talk. Which may be why the film’s most memorable scene is a wordless dance set to Etta James’ “At Last.”

Attending a regional art show in a little provincial town, Isabelle dances by herself on the floor of a disco, and then is joined by a ruggedly handsome stranger (Paul Blain) who seduces her without saying a word.  It’s a real heavy-breathing moment.

Denis’ handling of this material is deft, insightful and often wickedly funny…although her sense of humor is so arid that the laughs often evaporate before they can come out of your mouth. A classic example finds Isabelle ruining a country stroll with art-world colleagues by explosively accusing them of thinking they own the scenery, so fawning are their comments about the natural beauty surrounding them.

Denis also delivers a couple of the most honest lovemaking scenes in recent movie history — no male-gaze wet dreams here.

Any actress other than Binoche would have trouble making an audience care about Isabelle, but we do…even as we roll our eyes at her failure to learn from her mistakes.

And Denis tosses in a wonderful last-reel addition with the arrival of the mountainous Gerard Depardieu, not as a love interest (thank God!) but as a dispenser of not-wholly-trustworthy advice.

| Robert W. Butler