De battre mon coeur s’est arrêté…


The Beat That My Heart Skipped by Jacques Audiard

You cannot trust movies about some kind of craft. The ones that achieve an adequate representation in line with the cinematic tools at hand are too few and far between. Pollock failed, Basquiat failed, Proof failed. That’s because most of the time the craft in question is treated as an excuse to serve a dramatic goal. Big business, touching story, etc.

This movie is akin to the others mentionned above except that it documents an aesthetic much less in tune with the story. It is about an actor’s acting, in this case, Romain Duris.

De Niro is about wallowing in excess, violently looking inward and spontaneously bursting with aggression on occasion. Duris emulates Bobby here, he quotes his gaze, and even acknowledges these quotes by laughing at himself. And this is the reason you must see this, what talent!

I believe this one is a natural. Let’s give him five more years and see him actually deploy intelligence. He’s cutting his teeth for now.

That is all for this here flick. At times I wish every movie I watch could apply some of the basic cinematic exploitation tricks. It is not that hard. This one had great promise in the opening scene (a quick cut to something outside the visually referenced context, something that reinforced the words), but failed all the way throughout. I guess some directors get to keep their opening shot and compromise all throughout. Forget the story (you most likely will anyway).

Go see it for Duris. He conjures up an unresolved self oscillating constantly. It will change the way you look at yourself.

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Categories: Notes

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