Hey, everyone. Capone in Chicago here with a heads up for all who occasionally venture to an art house near you (assuming there is one).
Normally when I sit down to watch any film, I have some idea what it's about beforehand; at the very least, I know who's in it or have some inkling about the plot or tone.
But every so often, I enjoy deliberately avoiding any advanced details about a movie. Sometimes, there's a reason a film has stayed under my radar (it sucks), but other times (such as this) it allows me the rare opportunity to discover something wonderful. When I looked at my screening calendar and saw the title Autumn, I realized I didn't have a clue what this film was about.
So as I experienced the sophisticated twists and turns of the French-language Autumn, I naturally assumed this was the work of a veteran European director whose confidence behind the camera and with his talented (and familiar-to-me) cast was apparent in every scene. Imagine my shock after watching this complex and devastating film that the relatively young man behind it was an American whose love for European crime dramas runs so deep, he decided to make one rather than just borrow elements from them.
After premiering nearly two years ago at the Toronto Film Festival, first-time feature writer-director (and producer and editor) Ra-up McGee's crime drama Autumn has been making the festival rounds ever since. Its subject is not entirely foreign to U.S. audiences: a hitman trying to leave the business after meeting a wonderful woman.
Laurent Lucas (Harry, He's Here to Help; In My Skin) plays the handsome and slightly frayed hitman Jean-Pierre, who stumbles upon childhood friend Michelle (Irene Jacob from The Double Life of Veronique and Three Colors: Red). Just a Jean-Pierre is beginning to think love is his ticket out of crime, he discovers that a missing briefcase that his superior is looking for desperately has been stolen by Michelle. Suddenly his two worlds smash into each other with the force of a train wreck.
Jean-Pierre's life in the world of crime is too deeply rooted for him to get out quite so easily. His shady brother Claude (Samuel Dupuy) has a junkie-like gambling habit and his boss (the legendary Michel Aumont) is a nasty fuck who manipulates the people around him like pieces on a gameboard. Jean-Pierre also houses a shared childhood secret with Claude and Michelle, one that influences his mind and conscience to this day. As the search for the suitcase continues, Jean-Pierre struggles to protect Michelle while staying out of the murder game.
The levels of deceit and double-crossing are many, but the story still manages to make perfect sense; sometimes even the most obvious turncoats find ways of surprising us. My favorite of the supporting cast is the character of rookie killer-for-hire (and obvious replacement for Jean-Pierre) Veronique, played with a cold forwardness by Dinara Droukarova (Of Freaks and Mean; Since Otar Left). She speaks very little, and some mistake her for a person who simply takes orders unthinkingly, but do not misjudge or take her reactions for granted.
McGee's script not only delves into this intricate plot with a sure hand usually reserved for the more experienced set (he comes to Autumn from the world of documentaries), but he also takes the much-needed time to develop his character and reveal their neurosis, feelings of guilt, and what emotions they suppress in order to commit their crimes. The idea of an American directing a French crime drama is not a gimmick, and McGee is the real deal. If this were a perfect world, the guy would direct all of his future films (of which there will be many, I feel) in French, using all of the tricks French film have been seducing us with for years.
Not only are the character's moral ambiguities at the forefront of Autumn (as is often the case in such French films), but McGee refuses to wrap things up nicely for us, leaving his audience with a heavy and bloody heart that doesn't go away easily.
Autumn is a major statement from a new voice in American film; just don't be scared to hear what he has to say just because he's speaking another language.
Capone
