by James Clark 2023
At the conclusion of her brilliant career, filmmaker, Claire Denis, staged a couple of shocking films (far beyond her usual mayhem). The first entry, Both Sides of the Blade (2022), amounts to a protagonist-humanitarian, concluding that blacks in France are ruinous. The second film (with its second humanitarian), Stars at Noon (2022), chooses philosophy; but getting to the nub is a bugger; and a treasure. In fact, we must visit the precinct of Marcel Proust (1871-1922), in order to understand Denis’ venture, her disappointment and her glee. Proust and the landslide of advantage. His hopeless bid to break free from it. Finding in tiny moments what he meant.
It needs to be repeated. Despite great filming, these actions had moved toward philosophy. (Coming to the gut.) As such, Denis had dared to visit the turf of novelist Marcel Proust. From that vantage point, she would visit the old errors, so molten. Thereby, in the film, Both Sides of the Blade, we glimpse remarkably in intensity, hatred and lostness. Thereby, we reach out to our film today, Stars at Noon. The end of planet Earth.
Trish, the protagonist, is not what we need; however, she stands as a flowing horror. Could her fear stage a comeback? Otherwise, why would an American woman move to a place like Nicaragua, and its military nonsense. Her mission of humanitarian good is clearly bogus. Her long involvement in foolish danger is more to the point. (Recall, many years ago, Denis produced a TV show called, U. S. GO HOME.)
Irony helps. “No meat today. Sorry, miss.”
Hands appear. All it takes is a little concentration. Perhaps more than a little.
She is trying to get out money from a money machine.
The plague. Truly everywhere.
More fucking. “If you get more skinny, I don’t want you no more.”
He: “You’re not a journalist.”/ Trish: “Yes, I am.” (Wanting to be valid, but way over her head. And yet the sensibility beckons. She being, at a loss. Balance needed. Balance refused.)
There is no serious traction in this work.
Visual marvels. Wasted.
An Englishman, Daniel, is looking for something in the jungle. Trish stages a long and rocky interplay with him. But Daniel is a different equation.(He has the lack of a mouse.) One could say, he’s a perfect gentleman. But a perfect gentleman is not good enough.
Trish: “You have the good manners that eventually you get killed for. I can tell you my motives. I wanted to know the exact dimensions of hell.” (A stupid priority. Also stupid: “We’re all for sale.”)
Her silhouette. The two twists of them, covering a universe. “How can one be more than a disaster?” (Many fingers in the dark.) “You’re just a mist… only mist…” (Much more than that!)
Daniel: “I never really miss anybody… I feel I’m in danger of throwing my life away…”
Trish: “See how fast the tropics sap you?” (Now excuses, as you hope.)
Covid-19. It will be something else.
Trish: “And if you could just get me to Costa Rica, I promise you I’ll get my act together.” (Things aren’t as simple here as you hope… She becomes morose… Quickly, however, she puts out to Daniel a bogus threat, to get something going. The land of fakes. The land of shallows, oversimplified, flimsy, insubstantial, empty. “I can’t see a thing…” Daniel chuckles, as often done.
Trish marches like a soldier, but she doesn’t know what courage is.
Daniel thinks that there are people here with principles. Yes and no.
Trish: “I think maybe I’ve made a big mistake.”
No milk today.
Trish kisses an old man she knows. The old man is rich and powerful. She asks for money for Costa Rica. The answer was, “no.”
On the road, Daniel, driving to Costa Rica, with Trish. At the border: “We can just wait here for a moment.” Pan to the gringos of chaos.
Now the work becomes a dream of Trish’s best shot. Can surrealism do the trick? Find the best direction. Find a way to the cosmos itself. It’s available.
Our protagonist starts with a dark night and two cars parked closely. Each driver has been butchered. Planet Earth is not one of the better planets.
Finding something better. An enigma.
Trish in a jungle where Daniel has had a small accident. They come to a deserted house, by which to patch up Daniel. Neither of them notices that they are in a structure of brilliant and loving marble, wood and glass. A deep design. A deep artistry, on the walls. A deep heart. The presence of authority. Not for them.
Not for the millennials at the forefront here, by which to cover the steep bill. This last film of Denis’, in a blaze of dance. Sensibility, both tawdry and deft. And always a prisoner. (And yet simple love has its strengths; while it burns out, and leaves ashes.)
The black who haunts the treasure. How much does he know?
Trish demands, “Cover me up,” Trish demands. Cover me up. Cover me up. Cover me up. Cover me up.”
Many soldiers appear. The leader tells the protagonists, “I will practice my English with you.”/Daniel Tells the student-soldier, “You know, you work for despicable people.” Theatre of Absurd. And yet it can touch one’s heart.
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Great overview, you got me interested!
Thank you, Vigour!
Jim, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t see several films consecutively you had reviewed, but this is certainly the case now. i think it is more of an outlying occurance, not because I don’t think Claire Denis is a great director. She is one of the finest living artists, and again you have taken one fo her works and given it marvelous analytical heft. The site has greatly benefited by your scholarship, and your latest project on this extraordinary female director is one to treasure. I will get to it, but until then, kudos for your fascinating essay! I think the pandemic held me back that year.
Thanks very much, Sam.It is not a problem that the films have not been seen. Your fantastic output says it all.Claire Denis in Both Sides of the Blade and Stars at Noon, and now Jerzi Smolimowski with his film, EO, have been overtaken by anger, concerning the way of the world. In my next essay, EO, I hope to present a loving work.