Time Regained (1999)

Time Regained

I admit I have never read Remembrances of Time Past so a lot went over my head. This film version of the trilogy is interesting but very confusing for a novice like me. There are vignettes of different characters everywhere while Proust dies. Many are interesting and I was glad I watched the film, now I think I need to read the books! July 9, 2008

AN ATTACK !

It seems Jargo that you are hypocritical. You say that films are supposed to move you. You are absolutely right, as this film has moved you; it has moved you to vent your anger and disgust against "snobs". Perhaps you hate your social betters because you wish to be part of them, but you will never be. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ! July 10, 2006

read Proust first!

This is a wonderful film, a tribute by the Chilean-born direct Raoul Ruiz, in French with subtitles that occasionally are hard to read against the gold-white light of Marcel's retrospections. The most astonishing performance is John Malkovich's as Charlus, despite the fact that he doesn't resemble him in the slightest (Proust described the baron as so fat that he waddled, and his head as enormous).

The film is based on the novel's final book, which we now know as Finding Time Again, and begins with Marcel on his deathbed, dictating in a ghostly voice the novel that will be his triumph over death. The dying writer never reappears; what we get instead are scenes from the story of his life, including Little Marcel with his magic lantern at Combray, Young Marcel meeting Charlus at Balbec, and Middle-Aged Marcel attending the final society concert chez Prince de Guermantes, It's very difficult to follow, and should by no means be regarded as hors d'oeuvres to the feast of In Search of Lost Time, but rather as a digestif to follow it. -- Dan Ford at readingproust dot com July 8, 2005

Time in a Boring Bottle

This film at best, is nothing but amateurish detritus which not only bores the viewer but makes him contemptuously dislike all forms of snobbery or upper middle class portraits.

I've read a few of the other reviewers who attempt to become apologists for the director's lack of talent at establishing even a modicum of interest, they say if you haven't read Proust then you will have a difficult time comprehending this, which in itself is entirely fatuous and pomp. Imagine everyone having to read one of the most lurid and over-rated books of the 20th century to see a film which should substantiate itself. What an exaggerated claim. There's no place for "intellectual hubris" or their own "in-group manifesto" here.

I had high hopes for this film actually but after the first hour I saw that it was devoid and lacking any duality which would allow us to reflect on what is occurring. It is played by rigid, high handed oafs who are spoiled to begin with.

Most of the first hour is infested by artless vignettes which are probably the deluded Proust's memory, and they are reworked in such a disordered way that what comes out is merely a bunch of meaningless, trite and vacuous scenes with banal jargon, not only because they hold absolutely no interest for us, but because they do not invite a further contemplation of what 'time' was to Proust, imagine listening to a bunch of snobs talk about the weather, well, that is what this basically is, how philosophical can one get from that point of reference? It begins to wear thin after the first scene and you pray that there will be no more discussions by those prosaic characters. And it doesn't help that Proust himself is an insipid dandy who parades around in his best suits with his neatly trimmed moustache and becomes a voyeur, if you are asleep already, I don't blame you.

Many of the scenes deal with characters which are entirely void of any human warmth or expression, they are petty aristocrats, snobs who sit and drink tea and eat stuffy food while looking down at the poor. They are [...] who visit [...] brothels and think themselves noble because they hold high office positions during the war while the common man spills his guts out at the front lines. This is a complete waste of time!

Malkovich is even an absurd caricature in here, and his little dubbed French voice is entirely insipid. I laughed at most of this. We learn that he is a libertine who likes to visit male brothels and be whipped by sincere proletarian scum, wow, what a revelation on the mystery of human existence. From the looks of the period pieces and the arrangements, it was expensive but that doesn't carry a film with people walking around with no reference to the viewer. Film is supposed to move us in a way, either disgust us or interest us in some form of merit which it presents itself to us in human understanding but boredom to me is no artistic achievement. Don't even bother with this pretentious and ennui filled work.
December 2, 2004

Proust, Captured on Film

Suffice it to say that Chilean-born director/screenwriter Ruiz tackled a monumental assignment. Reducing Proust's lengthy Trilogy (Remembrance of Things Past), to a few hours of screen time would have been beyond the capabilities of most filmmakers. That he has succeeded so well is a great credit to him and to his creative crew.

The film is told in a series of flashbacks as Proust lies on his deathbed. The flashbacks are not sequential, so at points one has to pay attention to follow along. The rewards are numerous, however. This is one of the most beautifully filmed works that I've seen in ages. The director is particularly adept at pan-shots. The moving tableaux are breathtaking, like living impressionist paintings. This is particularly true in a scene of a music recital at a country chateau. The various figures are situated on moving platforms, so in addition to the moving camera pans, the platforms also slide slowly back and forth, which makes for a kaleidescopic montage unlike anything I've seen in cinema. Ruiz and cinematographer Jorge Arriagada are artists in the truest sense.

Ruiz also managed to collect a top notch cast for the enterprise. Marcello Mazzarella is elegantly stoic as Proust. He is the artistic, calm eye of the storm as the hurricane of WWI France swirls aound him. Emmanuelle Béart, is stunningly beautiful, as always. Catherine Deneuve is a perfectly cast Mme De Crecy, though her on screen time is relatively brief. John Malkovich's French sounds pretty fair to my untrained ear. He definitely has the juiciest role as a jaded, decadent Baron of the Boulevard. Pascal Greggory chews up some scenery, as well as a boefsteak, as the gung ho, effete warrior, St-Loup (well named, as the guy really is quite loopy).

The movie is slow going at times, which well befits an adaptation of Proust, who's not exactly known for his frenetic pacing. This is a film to savor with several repeated viewings. The DVD is an excellent transfer and the English subtitles are accurate and legible. Highly recommended.

BEK July 30, 2003

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