And so begins Michel Gondry’s latest creation, Mood Indigo, an adaptation of the Boris Vian novel, Froth on the Daydream. Following the introductory paradoxical quote, the film opens with a scene in a factory. Workers sit in assembly lines as typewriters zoom down the lines, each worker adding a few sentences to a narrative established by previous workers in the line. The scene is comical: the first workers graciously accept the blank sheets onto which they will begin their stories and these stories are passed along from worker to worker with gusto, their vibrant and colorful movements choreographed to buoyant jazz music that establishes the mood. The story of a man named Colin is passed from writer to writer and becomes the main plot. Contrasting this light scene is the notion that the characters in Colin’s story might not have any control or agency over what happens to them; they are virtually subject to the impulses of hundreds of workers in the assembly lines.

Colin is an energetic, childlike man who has sufficient wealth to live comfortably without working. Colin’s world is a fantasy version of Paris and he and his friends are constantly interacting with their seemingly absurd and animated environment. Whimsical contraptions, such as the pianocktail—a piano that mixes drinks according to how it is played—are constantly given special focus throughout the film. The style, visuals, and animation of Mood Indigo are very similar to one of Gondry’s other films, The Science of Sleep. Both films deftly integrate and blend reality and the surreal. It becomes difficult at times to discern whether or not events are actually happening since they are presented in such a fantastical way.

Colin attends a party his friend invites him to and it is there that he meets Chloe. Their connection is instantaneous and charmingly awkward and within months, they decide to marry. In his romantic stupor, Colin gives his friend a significant portion of his wealth to woo the woman he loves and allocates an even greater portion to his own wedding and honeymoon.

Colin and Chloe’s happy and carefree life is turned upside down when Chloe contracts a curious illness: a water lily is beginning to grow in her right lung. Chloe is instructed to take two teaspoons of water and an array of strange pills daily and Colin is forced to work a series of increasingly absurd jobs in order to finance her medical bills. As Chloe’s health deteriorates and Colin’s wealth dwindles away, his once extravagant and vibrant world declines and becomes a twisted, darker, and smaller version of itself. At the film’s conclusion, while Colin is at his most desperate, the picture is in black and white.  

Personally, it was fairly difficult for me to stay intrigued and engaged during most of the film. While the animation and environment were clever and fun, the constant attention the film paid to these aspects eventually made for redundancy. The characters were largely flat and I didn’t feel very connected to them. The pacing of the film was abrupt and the characters aren’t really given much time to react to what happens to them; there was not much character growth or development that took place. It was only in the last leg of the movie when the characters are responding and taking action to their unique circumstances that I was really invested in the film.

I’m not quite sure what Mood Indigo was trying to say. Constant cuts to the writers in the typewriter assembly lines continually emphasize the idea that the characters are not in control of their situations but that they are instead governed by external, spontaneous forces. The presence of Jean-Sol Partre, an elusive writer whom several characters in the film are fixated on, is an obvious nod to existential philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre and is particularly resonant. If viewed through an existential lens, the film makes much more sense. The characters we see have a sense of disorientation and confusion as the film progresses and their world becomes more absurd with no apparent meaning. Perhaps the film is a testament to just how strange life and being are. Or maybe I’m completely wrong. It might take several viewings to truly enjoy and appreciate the movie, but I’m not convinced it really deserves it.

Mood Indigo and The Science of Sleep are very similar in many respects, but you’ll probably be better off watching the latter instead. Always go with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, though.

Grade: B

Based on Brian Selznick’s graphic novel, The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Martin Scorsese’s Hugo is a departure from his other works. It follows Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield), a twelve-year-old orphan who resides in the Gare Montparnasse railway station in Paris, as he attempts to complete his late father’s final project.

Following the death of his father in a museum fire and the disappearance of his alcoholic uncle, Hugo hides himself in a maze of ladders and passages while continuing his uncle’s job of maintaining the clockworks of the railway station. To avoid being sent to an orphanage, he must do all of this while remaining undetected by the Station Inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen). Hugo’s most prized possession is the automaton his father found in a museum attic. Guided by the insight of his father’s notebook, he reconstructs the automaton by stealing bits of machinery from the shop of the toymaker, Georges Méliès (Ben Kingsley). One day, the harsh toymaker catches Hugo stealing from him and confiscates his notebook. He looks through it and is deeply affected by it. He threatens to destroy it and Hugo follows him to his house.

After failing to persuade Georges, Hugo meets his goddaughter, Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz), and she promises to help him get his notebook back. Georges tells Hugo that he may earn his notebook back if he works to pay for the items he stole. Meanwhile, Hugo’s work on the automaton is completed with the exception of a missing piece: a heart-shaped key that starts the machine. Hugo and Isabelle grow closer as they try to unravel the mysterious relationship between Georges and the notebook.

The world of Hugo is a fantastic blend of realism and myth. From the elaborate design of the railway station to the flashbacks that trace the history and career of Georges, viewers cannot help but be pulled in with childlike wonder. Hugo is a celebration of the birth of cinema and a humbling homage to this timeless art form.  

Grade: A-


NUFEC is screening Hugo at AfterHours on Friday at 7pm, more info here.

Alejandro González Iñárritu’s film, Biutiful, is a love story between a father and his children. It follows Uxbal (Javier Bardem), a separated father of two and black marketeer, as he learns of his terminal prostate cancer and embarks on a journey to atone for the life he has lead.

Uxbal earns his living by securing work for illegal immigrants as well as managing a group of Chinese workers producing forged designer goods along with the African street vendors who are selling them. As Uxbal’s health deteriorates, he struggles to reconcile fatherhood, love, crime, and guilt amidst the shady underground business in Barcelona, Spain. Moved by the sentence of death, Uxbal attempts reconciliation with his bipolar and alcoholic wife. He also seeks to improve working conditions for the Chinese immigrants; however, both of these attempts end tragically, leaving Uxbal with only anguish.

Iñárritu follows Uxbal’s last days with great intimacy. Here, we see a man whose sickness is reducing him to a failing body and whose love is made more desperate as his final days inevitably approach. The film’s most emotional scene takes place when Uxbal’s daughter, Ana, confronts him and confirms his impending death. He tells her to look upon his face and never forget him, and the camera lingers on one of their last embraces.

The loss of innocence of both children really resonated with me. Through their mother’s relapses and father’s dealings in the black market, the children come to find that the adults in their life do not have divine intelligence and that their judgments are not always wise. That safety net is gone and things are never quite the same again. It is an aching kind of growing that the film captures masterfully.

Biutiful explores our humble impermanence. It is not until the end that our existence is revealed to us in its effable brevity, and this is, perhaps, one of the most painful reconciliations to make. What are we to do in our final days of life? Will we live on in the memory of the ones we love most? As Iñárritu puts it, Biutiful is not a film about death, “…but a reflection in and about life when our inevitable loss of it occurs.”

Grade: A