Dir. Luc Besson, France, 2005, 88 mins
Cast: Jamel Debbouze, Rie Rasmussen
Review by Richard Mellor
Cinema is too often overwrought with attempts at intricacy or complexion. Long, exaggerated pre-battle speeches, meticulously formulated fight scenes and twisting, bluffing horror films – standards like these are never far from popular celluloid. In such a complicated world, sometimes the most potent communication is merely the simplest.
Luc Besson has not always made ‘simple’ films – the special effect-ridden The Fifth Element is an especially ‘complex’ mess – but, more often than not, he produces a thankfully uncluttered movie. Leon is one example, as hit man and young girl form an unlikely, instinctive bond – and Besson’s latest, Angel-A, represents another.
As if to reinforce the point, the synopsis of Angel-A takes little getting to grips with. In debt to the local gangsters and living a life speedily going nowhere, desperate André (Jamel Debbouze) happens on ethereal Angela (Rie Rasmussen) as both are contemplating suicide astride one of the River Seine’s bridges. And a strange romance begins to build. That’s about the size of it.
This partnership is forged around a rapidly-established dynamic. Uninhibited and ethereal, Angela slowly coaxes the entranced André into admitting his faults. In doing so, André gains confidence and self-knowledge with suspicious haste. It’s like a surreal, accelerated therapy course, with Angela chiselling away at André’s psyche to expose the protective veneer he has established for himself.
Angela hints that the decision to help André is a decree from mystical powers upstairs, rather than an idea of her own. Despite this serious commission and her attempts at a cool façade, she seems to enjoy André’s company more than she expected.
Angela has some great ice queen moments, be it servicing horny men in the toilets of a dingy club to raise cash, or assaulting fraudulent café-workers – but there remains notable warmth in her attitude towards André. Could this most evasive figure be in peril of an addictive, surrendering love? This subtle suggestion provides an energy that fuels Besson’s film right to the end.
Love is in the air partly thanks to Cameraman Thierry Arbogast, who lends Paris a delicate, proud beauty. The city is always seen classically; zestful early morning rushes, dreamy riverside scenes or empty backstreets lined with graceful stone buildings. Even as André is dangled from the Eiffel Tower by a hoodlum, Paris looks resplendent and serene.
This is also a film about shredding social disguises, and the value of getting back to basics and shaking off fears and regrets. In line with that ambition, Angel-A has the simplest of equations at its heart: human plus human equals love.
The picture is shot entirely in black-and-white. Rather than to show off or be artisan, this seems more to allow the film to stress its messages - a dazzling array of colours, gimmicks or digital enhancements would simply serve to distract. The monochrome style reminds of vintage cinema, as does the elegant, consuming love affair.
The two virtually-unknown leads step up with aplomb. Debbouze’s portrayal of André is a study of control, as he slowly allows his character to convert swagger and failings into gravitas and maturity. Rasmussen simply dazzles meanwhile; her Angela is by turns dazzling, addictive and desperately vulnerable. It is a wondrous performance.
For some folk such a cerebral and syrupy romance may seem only pretentious twaddle. But it’s equally possible to leave the cinema feeling elated, impossibly hopeful and newly fired with positive intentions. Angel-A is cinema most redemptive and soothing – but only for the dreamers among us.
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