Monday Morning

This just popped up on BBC 4, a digital station in the UK and the review tempted me. Had no really idea what it was all about but was fascinated throughout. The French know how to let a movie take its course without heavy editing and cutting. Very little dialogue yet you sink straight into the rut and routine of life in a tiny French village; and then the contrast of the romance of Venice. The characters are well defined, and I loved the way the family children looked after the grandparents, while the husband - the central character - seemed to live just for his cigarettes. The realisation that working life is much the same anywhere sent him home where he's received as if he'd never been gone! Anyone who's seen "Etre & Avoir" will feel right at home with this.

The film's main character is fed up with his dreary life, that's why he decides to give up everything, his wife, kids and his job for a few weeks away during which he'll be able to smoke and drink to forget his condition and finds himself again.

He claims his right for smoking after such a long time of deprivation. Smoking becomes an act of rebellion and numerous are the characters who act that way. Quite funny. The whole film is a comedy as most of the cast is singular and absolutely ludicrous.

But what could have been a nice film becomes more or less wasted by the director unability to give substance to his characters whom he forgets without any reason. What happens to the main protagonist's wife and kids for almost an hour is just a mystery. Frustrating and needless as they first appeared as leading parts.

And the direction is so primary and limited!

Why does that film last two hour is another mystery as it finally brings us nothing upsetting, except a few really funny moments.

This film is such a rare mixture of place, character and time that one element seems never to upstage the other. The blend is unique and evolves into an organic presentation where each is essentially dependent upon the other. For example,scenes are so impeccably designed that a scene itself becomes a character in time. The blue car, the mud shoes, the factory, the bikes, the flowers, and so on all fit into a carefully crafted philosophical whole which defines temporal existence. This is true of other like scenes, such as the city of Venice or living conditions of the transvestite hatcheck person with the two pet Norway rats. The characters fit perfectly into each scene in the same way that the subjects of Norman Rockwell fit into his paintings. Time becomes the cultural lag which slows down everything, from the chemical factory workers to the boatmen in Venice. Even the most absurd scenes flow into a gentle homogenaity. "Where did you get the crocodile?" Vincent asks his young son as if he were inquiring about an ice cream cone. In the final analysis, Monday Morning is the nonviolent triumph of humanity over contemporary absurdity.

This comment answers the previous one.

The reason Iosseliani "forgets" about the wife and kids is because that's exactly what's happening to the main character.

And Iosseliani is "basic"?? The film is pure poetry, the scenes in the factory are like nothing I've seen before.

The cinematography is very nice, with vivid shots of Venice and the french countryside, and the characters have the potential to be quite interesting. But the characters are about 80% developed to the point where we'd really care about them, and the whole thing doesn't tie together very well. Plus the pace is maddeningly slow. Message to the director: We get the point! It's hard for me to hate this film, but I can't rave about it either.