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Making
beautiful music together: Mikkelsen and Mouglalis as
Coco and Igor.
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A
Fitful Affair
By
Laura Leon
Coco
Chanel and Igor Stravinsky
Directed
by Jan Kounen
The
opening set piece of the clumsily titled Coco Chanel and
Igor Stravinsky is fraught with anticipation, tension,
and suspense, as the title composer (Mads Mikkelsen) readies
himself for the Parisian premiere of The Rite of Spring.
His pregnant wife Katerina (Yelena Morazova) assures Igor
that he is a genius, but even she looks queasy. The fabulously
ensembled patrons arrive, giddy with excitement, and there’s
Nijinsky himself painstakingly offering last minute advice
to his garishly made-up dancers. The conductor exhorts his
nervous orchestra to follow his lead and not to think about
the rhythms—or lack thereof as many theatre-goers determine
to be the case. A near riot breaks out as some Parisians rush
for the street, disdainful of the sacrilege they are hearing,
while others, more adventurous, keep up a wave of bravos.
In the pandemonium, a single, exquisite and still presence
remains, that of Coco Chanel (Anna Mouglalis), who seems compelled
and enchanted by the sheer artistry and daring of Stravinsky’s
score.
To say this lengthy scene isn’t a rush is to deny the palpable
forces of nature which create, and live for, a particular
art. We next encounter a bereaved Coco just after the First
World War, as she saunters into a ribald party at which Stravinsky
and other Russian émigrés discuss politics. She slips him
a note, and later offers him the use of her country house
for composing. Bring the wife and four kids, she commands,
ever the authoress of her own destiny. Through brief scenes
in which the two compare creative notes, the sense of sexual
desire heats up; when Chanel sits next to Stravinsky at the
piano, demanding a lesson, it’s evident where things are going.
Before long, the two are having passionate sex at the piano,
under the piano . . . everywhere, it seems, where people are
bound to walk in on them. Katerina, who knew Stravinsky since
childhood, is fully aware of what is transpiring between her
husband and their benefactress, but sits by, hoping for the
affair to run its course.
The movie is lush, throbbing: with the sound of Stravinsky’s
best works; with the tumid sense of nature in full bloom or,
conversely, dank autumnal rot; and with, of course, the sheer
visual splendor of Coco’s style, her stunning attire and trés
chic furnishings. More sensual than any sex scene is one in
which Stravinsky, pre-affair, slips into Chanel’s boudoir
suite and takes in her belongings, her style. The eroticism
of his getting to know her in this manner is a perfect precursor
to the moment when she seduces him. The tensions of the domestic
situation percolate, giving the movie, as it progresses, its
only drama; weirdly, once Coco and Igor give in to each other,
their relationship loses steam. The end of the movie, a rather
confusing rehashing of deathbed memories and regrets, tries
to emulate the tension and excitement of the first scene,
without success. The wet blanket on the movie’s cohesion occurs
about two-thirds of the way in, when the lovers, quarrelling,
give way to what they really think of their respective talents,
with Igor calling Coco nothing more than a dress maker [as
opposed to an artist, like him]. It’s almost as if the moviemakers
should have stopped right there, because there’s nothing left
to watch but slow progress toward the bitter end.
Artificial
Dramatization
The
Switch
Directed
by Josh Gordon and Will Speck
The, er, climactic “insemination party” in The Switch
is a grotesquely unfunny sequence in which repressed nebbish
Wally (Justin Bateman) gets black-out drunk out of jealousy
and spills a specimen cup of semen donated by the “seed man”—and
secretly replaces it with his own “ingredient.” Before the
party, The Switch is merely a pass-the-time, big-screen
sitcom about two best friends, Wally and Kassie (Jennifer
Aniston) who somehow missed a romantic connection. But since
no-nonsense Kassie doesn’t want to wait any longer to have
a baby, she hires a sperm donor who has all the qualities
that Wally lacks: Roland (Patrick Wilson) is tall, athletic,
romantic, and teaches women’s studies. Wally doesn’t remember
his drunken fumble, so when Kassie returns to New York City
seven years later, he has to realize on his own that her son,
Sebastian (Thomas and Bryce Robinson), is his. In the meantime,
there are redundant, unfunny asides with Kassie’s loud-mouth
gal pal (Juliette Lewis) and Wally’s supportive supervisor
(Jeff Goldblum, whose louche character should’ve been given
a scene or two to steal), but these don’t compensate for the
barely amusing dialogue or the fact that Aniston’s character
has no personality except for her professionally parlayed
professionalism, as a friend and as a mother. The film never
loosens up into hilarity as did Blades of Glory, also
directed by Josh Gordon and Will Speck.
But then The Switch switches gears as Wally, in his
helpmate role of Uncle Wally (which Bateman plays with the
just right touch of put-upon exasperation and fatherly warmth)
recognizes that Sebastian has the same neurosis and idiosyncrasies
as he does. And in an unexpectedly appealing twist, Sebastian
becomes less difficult and bonds with Wally as a kindred geek.
This isn’t such a good thing, despite Robinson’s utterly natural
performance as a moppet-eyed tyrant with genuine issues, since
their bonding is interrupted by a new romance that’s more
artificial than Kassie’s insemination. Thanks to Bateman and
Robinson, the film isn’t quite loathsome, but it sure isn’t
likeable, either.
—Ann
Morrow
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