Le Magnifique Belmondo!

NEWSFLASH: The hidden, shadowy rumblings of a thousand heart-rending, laughter-making, tear-jerking, thought-provoking, awe-inspiring, erotically stimulating (see Jacqueline Bisset in Le Magnifique for further details), and just plain enjoyable cinematic experiences and celebrations finally erupted recently, breaking out of their numerous Parisian salles obscures and plastering themselves across the Hotel de Ville, the City Hall itself, to announce to all concerned, unconcerned, or just strolling casually by, the start of the 2nd edition of ‘Paris Cinema Festival’, the no-holds-barred celebration of the art of film, of film-making, and of the enjoyment of film. ROLL ‘EM!

The festival takes in a collection of films and documentaries so huge that they are scattered throughout the arrondissements of Paris like so much twinkling star-dust; most in cinemas, many in parks and gardens; those not at the bargain price of 4.00 € are free of charge.

The treats this year included: A Tour Of Europe’s Cinema, focusing on Great Britain; Tribute Screenings, including The Magnificent Belmondo and The American Friend, Oliver Stone; a tribute to Fernando Solanas; retrospectives; themed Screenings, including Rock and Cinema; a World Tour Of Musicals; French classics, with English subtitles; silent movies (free, in the gardens of the Senate, July 3, 4 & 5). And lots, lots more. See the end of the article for full information.

Whilst the free-of-charge, grand opening at the Hotel de Ville didn’t bother with the question, “Are we sitting comfortably?” before beginning, as there was no seating in the huge area, the sight of Cary Grant being chased down a dirt road by an aeroplane in a scene from the Hitchcock classic ‘North by Northwest’ drew me in and held me completely spellbound as I turned my coat into a makeshift cushion and sat on that.

Cary Grant was doing his stuff on a small screen set up at one end of the square, whilst the projection crew—working from several layers of scaffolding across from the City Hall—did their fine-tuning in preparation for the projection of the Jean-Paul-Belmondo comedy Le Magnifique (the film chosen as the festival’s official opener, with a promised personal appearance by the great man), onto an absolutely gigantic screen fitted to the front of the City Hall building itself.

It was a warm summer evening, with pink clouds turning the moon a luminous green color just before the dark set in proper (probably something to do with pollution, but it looked good.) The moon was a fairy-tale special effect, telling us that in Paris, France, on a night devoted to cinema, the moon is made of cheese. It didn’t matter too much to me, though, a British born film-fanatic suddenly finding himself in a huge open-space on a beautiful summer’s night, awash with images and documentary clips of some of his all-time favourite movies. I was spell-bound.

Faye Dunaway talked about the breakthrough action movie ‘Bonnie & Clyde,’ whilst George Clooney, the director of the brilliant ‘Confessions Of A Dangerous Mind,’ said some wise things: “The most important element—by far—in any movie is the script. With a good script, it is still possible to make a bad movie, but with a bad script, you can’t do anything but make a bad movie.” I was as impressed by the guy’s knowledge as I was by his directorial debut. Let’s hope we get more from Clooney.

Then the clips came thick and fast: Marlon Brando, Jimmy Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, Katherine Hepburn, Jimmy Stuart. Oliver Stone talked about his love of Hitchcock. Young actors named their inspirations and their heroes. Having arrived quite early, I glanced around at one point and found that I was surrounded by people. The place was choc-a-bloc with cross-legged couples, of all ages and races, talking and laughing, pointing or clicking cameras. TV crews strolled around, filming us in the act of celebrating film. It was a laid-back, cool, and totally enjoyable experience.

Then, with the moon back to its usual silvery color, high in a dark, clear sky, and with hot little spot-lights clicking on here and there, the crowd started cheering as the doors to the City Hall slowly opened. Everybody started standing. I jumped up and saw some official looking types milling around the entrance. A long sequence of clips devoted to Jean-Paul Belmondo started on the small screen, and the crowd went wild.

I knew of Belmondo. I had seen some of his movies over the years. A real tough-guy with a great sense of humor; an actor who knew how to put an action movie across with real style; and who performed his own stunts in spectacular fashion.

When the sequence finished, the great man appeared: old now and using a cane, his hair snow white, but his broad, mischievous grin and his captivating smile bowling everybody over. To say the crowd was pleased to see him is something of an understatement; to say they were pleased to celebrate him would be nearer the mark. A speaker—probably a fellow actor, but my research fails me here—did the speaking and he played the crowd well, as Belmondo beamed at us and waved his cane in the air.

When he disappeared back inside and the doors closed, there was a scramble for sitting down space, or lying down space, and the movie, started up almost immediately. Le Magnifique, a French comedy, wouldn’t normally have appealed to me, but Belmondo proved himself again, sending up his own action-man/super-star image in a completely insane James Bond satire. Belmondo clearly knew that the line between super-cool and ridiculous is a thin one and he consistently hopped from one side of that line to the other with the easy grace with which he normally leaps walls or garden fences.

Then there was Jacqueline Bisset. Good grief. I had thought that set-backs in my personal life had put me off women for good, but there she was, beautiful, seductive, and very much larger than life. By the time of the bikini scene, I was ready to die for her. If she’d taken things one step further, I probably wouldn’t have had a choice. Not only was this great writer lost for words as he stared helplessly up at her, he was drooling.

What I loved about the movie is that it suddenly stopped being a spy send-up and switched tack, becoming a movie about a scruffy, helpless, reclusive writer (Belmondo), the day-dreaming author of the books that we the audience have been viewing in all the previous scenes. Bisset appears as his studious neighbour, of course, and all heaven and hell breaks loose as they meet, don’t get along, do get along, fall out, fight, fall in love, fight some more, make up… ah, you know the story.

Belmondo’s writer character deals with his confused feelings through his spy writing, all of which the audience sees, so that at one emotionally confused point, the heroine (Bisset) is gang-raped several times by bad guy goons, whilst an indifferent hero (Belmondo) turns into a very camp homosexual and runs away with the arch-criminal (his publisher)!

Still, it all gets ironed out in time for the happy ending…

Since I barely speak French, this was perhaps the best movie for me to have seen, as the dialogue wasn’t of vast importance (apart from the fact that it raised some big laughs that I couldn’t join in with). But it was great to be part of such an appreciative, lively audience, who enjoyed the movie loudly and applauded it wildly when it ended.

It was an excellent start to the fest. A great choice of film, location, special guest, luminous green moon, movie-heroine, and audience. And, of course, me: a scruffy, reclusive, helpless writer, with dreams of better things. With dreams of Jacqueline Bisset, at least… thanks to the Paris Cinéma festival.

Paris Cinema Festival
155 rue de Charonne
75011 PARIS, France
Tel. 33 (0) 1 55 25 55 25
fax. 33 (01) 1 43 67 09 50
www.pariscinema.org

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