Review - The Sessions

Few contemporary American films seem willing to explore such delicate subjects as sex, disability or faith, so perhaps the first thing we should do with The Sessions is applaud it for attempting to tackle all three simultaneously with a refreshing frankness. Ben Lewin's film tells the story of Mark O'Brien (played by John Hawkes), a poet and journalist crippled by a bout of childhood polio, whose tale has already been told on screen in Jessica Yu's Oscar-winning documentary Breathing Lessons. O'Brien's illness left him largely paralysed from the neck down, necessitating nights in an iron lung to aid his breathing and days spent in a gurney from which he could write or make calls using a stick held in his mouth. The Sessions looks at this man and asks a simple but provocative question – how can a person in this position have sex?

That question is one most of us rarely – if ever – consider, but the very fact that The Sessions portrays its disabled characters as regular people, possessing the same urges and desires as anyone else, is enough to distinguish it from most pictures. Lewin's narrative focuses on Mark's decision, at the age of 38, that it was high time he lost his virginity. "I'm approaching my best-if-used date" he explains to local priest Father Brendan (a relaxed, amusing turn from William H. Macy), who he approaches for spiritual guidance regarding the question of sex outside marriage; "I have a feeling that God is going to give you a free pass on this one," the clergyman suggests. This is one of two key relationships in The Sessions, the other being with Cheryl (Helen Hunt), a sex therapist hired to help Mark achieve his goal.

Lewin is a polio survivor himself, and his screenplay for The Sessions is marked by a straightforward honesty and a sly sense of humour. Material that could have been maudlin or preachy instead feels remarkably alive, and the sexual encounters between Mark and Cheryl that form the heart of the picture particularly benefit from this approach. Hunt's down-to-earth demeanour and comfortable nudity goes a long way to alleviating the awkwardness – both Mark's and ours – of the film's many sex scenes. She is better in this role than I've ever seen her be before, and there's something wonderfully warm and caring about the manner in which she sets Mark at ease, before patiently helping him explore his own body and hers. For a person who has only ever been touched in order to be cleaned, moved or changed, these first instances of sexual contact are a revelation. It has been a long time since I've seen a film that is so matter-of-fact about sex, and what it can mean to people.

While its content may be bracingly unusual, the storytelling of The Sessions is very conventional. There are no surprises in its narrative structure, or in Lewin's bland, TV-like direction of it, and whereas The Diving Bell and the Butterfly overcame its protagonist's disability through a creative use of the camera, The Sessions feels as locked-down as Mark's body. Fortunately, John Hawkes mitigates Lewin's unimaginative staging by being such an astonishing presence in every scene. Using the only communicative tools available to him, his eyes and his voice, Hawkes brilliantly makes Mark come alive for us; we see his intelligence and wit, but detect no hint of self-pity for his current state. There's something wholly endearing about his desire to simply give and receive love, and it's impossible to not be moved by the way O'Brien overcame his disadvantages to live the fullest life he could.

It would have been very easy for a film like The Sessions to fall into cheap manipulation and hackneyed triumph-over-adversity uplift, but the tremendous performances and Lewin's sharp-witted screenplay allows it to avoid such pitfalls. Ultimately, The Sessions feels like a very honest and sincere film, and that in itself is enough to make it worth seeing, although there is one uncharacteristic moment of coyness that stands out. In a pivotal scene, Cheryl holds up a full-length mirror so Mark can see his own naked body for the first time in many years. It is a breakthrough for Mark, but Lewin's camera hides discreetly behind Hunt's shoulder, blocking the lower part of Hawkes' body. It's very satisfying to see a film tackle sex in such a head-on manner, but it seems there are still some taboo aspects of human sexuality that are simply too much for us timid viewers to handle.

Review - Starbuck

Building your film upon a high-concept storyline that stretches credibility to breaking point is a risky strategy that results in failure in most cases. Surprisingly, Ken Scott's comedy Starbuck manages to ride out its unlikely narrative all the way to a satisfying finale, thanks to a screenplay full of neat surprises and a pair of lead performances that bring a grounded charm to this fantastical tale. Patrick Huard is David Wozniak, a 42 year-old slacker and habitual fuckup who spends much of his time dodging local heavies over an unpaid debt and swerving commitment questions from his girlfriend. The event that shakes up David's life is a blast from the past. During the 1980s, he made money be donating sperm under the pseudonym "Starbuck" and it turns out that he is now the unwitting father of 533 children, 140 of whom now want to know who he is.

This revelation forces David into hiding, and he hires his friend Avocat (Antoine Bertrand) to plead his case for anonymity in the courts, but curiosity draws him back to the bundle of profiles left with him by the lawyer hired by his offspring. That curiosity is stoked further when he discovers one of his sons is the star player on his local football team, and soon David is tracking down the rest of his offspring, stalking them and attempting to inconspicuously intervene in their lives like a shabby guardian angel. This aspect of Ken Scott and Martin Petit's screenplay is rather contrived and episodic, and the picture is littered with subplots and loose ends that don't quite gel, but Starbuck gets away with it, largely because it is consistently very funny.

The motor of the movie is a tremendous lead performance from Huard, whose innate amiability and sincerity encourages to stick with the character as he travels across his uneven arc. The scenes in which David bonds with his own kin – unbeknownst to them – are finely judged, with sentimentality just about held at bay. His meeting with his mentally handicapped son could have been too mawkish to bear, but Huard makes us believe in his characters conflicted emotions and Scott skilfully dictates the tone of these tricky scenes. The other standout performance in the film comes from Bertrand, as the small-time lawyer tackling the biggest case of his life in defence of his best friend. This exuberant and endearing actor is responsible for some of the film's biggest laughs; from his bewildered reactions to David's predicament to his heartfelt but clumsy courtroom performance towards the film's climax.

Starbuck finally lets sentimentality win during its saccharine closing moments, but the fact that Scott has kept the movie above water for so long is testament to his inventive storytelling and confident direction of actors. It's one of the funniest and most satisfying comedies released this year and it deserves to find an audience, but will it have the opportunity to be a breakout hit? An English-language US remake of Starbuck is already in production with Scott, strangely, taking the directorial reins on this second version of his story. Will that picture share this Canadian production's understated charm? Will Vince Vaughn be capable of following Huard's terrific lead turn? Perhaps the remake will prove to be a worthwhile endeavour, but right now this Starbuck is the one to see, while you have the chance.

Review - Gambit

The chief selling point for Gambit is not the cast, or the director (unless you're one of the few people who really loved Michael Hoffman's The Last Station) but the screenplay, which bears the name of Joel and Ethan Coen. They have written a remake of the 1966 film, in which Michael Caine and Shirley MacLaine played a pair of crooks, but the fact that the Coens have handed this script off to another filmmaker rather than opting to direct it themselves suggests it may not up to their usual standards. It doesn't take long for that suspicion to solidify into fact as this film lurches from one awkward comic set-piece to another, struggling to raise more than a handful of chuckles from a narrative that feels like a first draft in dire need of revision.

Many of those chucklesome moments come courtesy of Colin Firth, who is ideally cast as British art curator Harry Deane, a man not quite as smart and debonair as he imagines himself to be. Gambit opens with Deane in Texas, on the trailer of rodeo rider PJ Puznowski (Cameron Diaz), whom he intends to involve in a con that will trick Harry's obnoxious boss Shabandar (Alan Rickman) into buying a counterfeit Monet. He explains his plan to PJ, and over the next ten minutes we see that plan being executed with consummate ease and professionalism, but everything we see is unfolding inside Harry's head. Harry's scheme isn't as foolproof as he thinks, Shabandar isn't as gullible as he thinks, and PJ isn't quite the smooth operator that he expects.

This structural trick is a neat idea – one of the film's neatest – but as it's lifted wholesale from the original movie it leaves you wondering what this picture has to offer that's fresh. The answer is: not a great deal, with most of the gags and stereotypical characterisations feeling like relics from the 1960s carelessly reheated. The film's biggest set-piece involves Firth being caught trouserless in a series of compromising situations as he snoops around the Savoy and clambers precariously from one window to another. Firth's attempt to maintain a dignified air in farcical conditions ekes a few mild laughs out of this setup, while Julian Rhind-Tutt's perfectly judged reaction shots score a couple more, but the sequence has nowhere to go, and when a punchline is required all it can offer is a fart gag. It might be unfair to expect Coen-like precision from any directors taking on their material, but Hoffman's heavy hand is all wrong for this; what should feel tight and manic instead feels obvious, flabby and lifeless.

Gambit collapse completely in its dismayingly lame third act, but the actors deserve some credit for full applying themselves under trying circumstances. Rickman's dry delivery is perfect for Shabandar and Tom Courtney is good value with the little he's given to do, but a couple of the actors attack their roles with a little too much misplaced enthusiasm. Stanley Tucci's camp German art expert is not this usually reliable actor's finest hour, while Cameron Diaz's best moments in the film occur within its first twenty minutes, before she opens her mouth and starts to speak. It's all downhill from there.

Could the Coens, or any other filmmakers, have made Gambit work? I'm sure they could – the central plot is a solid enough basis for a good farce – but the effort and inspiration required to do so is completely lacking. This film required a rewrite and a change of personnel on both sides of the camera before being ready for production; instead it has limped into cinemas half-baked and looking very sorry for itself. The posters for Gambit feature the names of the Coen brothers prominently, while the director's credit is nowhere to be seen, but enticing viewers with the promise of their level of excellence may be the biggest con trick of all.

"It's true that we have a tumultuous relationship, a very explosive relationship, Xavier and I" - An interview with Melvil Poupaud and Suzanne Clément

Laurence Anyways is Xavier Dolan's third film as a director, and by this point we shouldn't be surprised by the 23 year-old's confidence and stylistic verve. However, we might be surprised by the scale of his latest picture, which encompasses 10 years in its 168 minutes, and by the emotional resonance that he achieves in his storytelling. Much of the credit for that must go to his cast, particularly Melvil Poupaud and Suzanne Clément in the lead roles. Poupaud plays Laurence, the schoolteacher who suddenly announces that he wants to live as a woman, and Clément is his lover Fred, who decides to stand by her man despite her own misgivings. They give two of the best performances you'll see in a film this year, and when they came to London for the Laurence Anyways' UK premiere I met them to talk about it.

Suzanne, you worked on Xavier's first film. Have you noticed how his style has changed or evolved when you worked with him again on this one?

Suzanne Clément Yeah, it was incredible. When I arrived for the first day of shooting I was amazed at the steps he had taken, which I now understand is normal for Xavier, he's always moving really, really fast. He was really bringing the crew together and the way he directed actors has changed a lot. First of all, in the first movie I did it was such a small part and he was playing with me, but still he is much more creative and really confident in the fact that he wants things to happen and is willing to try anything to get it. He is not shy with the actors, which even much older directors can be sometimes. During this movie he was actually talking to us during the takes, which was quite an experience. It was a lot of fun, sometimes disturbing, but it really brings you off-balance and makes you take the direction you wouldn't normally take as an actor, which I really liked. But it was really challenging and that was one specific thing that he didn't do in I Killed My Mother, which he couldn't do because he was in it. As he said himself, it was his way of playing a part in Laurence. You could always hear him in the dailies and I think he got tired of his own voice.

Melvil, you took on this role very late after Louis Garrel pulled out. How much time did you have to prepare for playing Laurence?

Melvil Poupaud I knew the script because I was supposed to play a small part in the movie, the part of a lady who turned into a man at one point. I was very happy to work with Xavier even though I had a small part, and I was kind of jealous of Louis because Laurence seemed to be a very appealing and interesting part to do. I also did the editing on a documentary that my mother made about cross-dressers, so I knew about those people who were dressing up as women on the side, secretly, since they were a child, and they have this kind of duality. Some of them go all the way to the operation and assume it in society, while others keep on doing it on the side, even though they have children. I discovered through this documentary that those people are hyper-heterosexual and not homosexual; it's like a crazy love for women that makes them feel they are more woman than man. So I could avoid all of these clichés about transvestites and drag queens, and they had already been avoided by Xavier in the script. I arrived two weeks before the start of the shoot and weirdly the costumes fit me, and I didn't feel uneasy with the high heels or those extravagant dresses. Xavier was in charge of the costumes so we had some fun playing with this, he was like a child dressing me up with earrings etc, and that was a way for us to connect. He had seen some of my films and I hadn't seen any of his, but he showed them to me when I arrived in Montreal for the shoot and I really loved them. I knew I would love them because I had heard of them and when I met Xavier I could see that he was talented, but I was happy to see how good he was.

SC He was very strong, to come into this project. On the first night he arrived he had to have his whole body shaved. That was some preparation.

MP Yes, it was hardcore. [laughs]

You have to be convincing as a couple who have had this long-term relationship. Is that something you have to work on together or did it just click between you?

SC We didn't have time for exercises! [laughs] When we saw each other for the first time we spoke for an hour, or an hour and a half, and we felt that we were both OK people, and even though I'm older than monsieur it's not so far that we can't understand each other. After that you just have to have confidence and trust in each other's intuition. He said afterwards that he was watching my relationship with Xavier, and it must have been hard for him because Xavier is very into his relationships with the women around him, so for another man to enter that must have been hard.

MP Yeah, I felt sometimes that it wasn't so easy. At the end we got along very well and we are closer now. We also had two shoots, three months in winter and then a break of five months. When we came back to the second part of the shoot, he had edited the first part so he knew what he was missing, so he could tell us where we had to go further in our relationship, or what we had to correct. He showed us the editing so we could all understand the movie and see where it was going, so it was very helpful having this break.

SC It's true that we have a tumultuous relationship, a very explosive relationship, Xavier and I. We're not fighting, we're just crazy together, and he has close relationships with a lot of women around him, especially Monia.

MP You know, I think the film came about because he wanted to work with Suzanne again and he wanted to make a love story, so I think for him it's maybe easier to make a love story between two women, even if it's heterosexual. Maybe he will change, but for the time being he is attracted to strong female characters, and maybe less attracted to heterosexual guys, so I think I was lucky to have this part and have the chance to work with him.

Both of these parts require you to play a wide range of extreme emotions. What was that like for you?

MP Weirdly, for me it's more difficult for me to look happy and light than it is to do those emotional things. Maybe that's my nature, but once you're involved in the project and you have a good director who you want to please, it's kind of easy to go there. Xavier is so demanding and so passionate about his work, you can't escape his will. You have to be good and you can never just be so-so, he's always pushing you further, and also the crew. Emotional scenes are more easy. Laughing scenes are very difficult.

SC It's demanding physically and emotionally. As an actor, your nerves are always on demand when you are performing, but throughout the years I have played many emotional parts, it's not just one part that does it to you. You get used to those extreme emotions.

MP That is the work of an actor, to have your emotions at the director's disposal.

Xavier is such a visual stylist. When you are shooting, do you have a sense of what the finished product will look like, or is it a surprise when you view the film?

SC They are very clearly written, so when you read the script you have this vision.

MP From the previous movies he has made you can see he is stylish and is approaching more and more to perfection. On set he plays a lot of music so you can participate in his viewing of the scene, and he shows you the editing and his very generous with his work. When you are making the scene, with the clothes, the slow-motion and the music, there is a sense of this mise-en-scène that is very playful and enthusiastic.

Review - Anna Karenina

If you type "Anna Karenina" into the IMDb, you'll be presented with more than two dozen feature films, TV-movies, miniseries and shorts bearing that title, so perhaps a little fresh thinking is required to justify yet another screen adaptation. The latest screen version, directed by Joe Wright and scripted by Tom Stoppard, is certainly unusual and distinctive, with the filmmakers bringing a sense of theatrical artifice to Tolstoy's novel. But while we may be inclined to applaud such out-of-the-box thinking, it's hard to escape the notion that it is a complete misfire. There's nothing wrong with the intention – we've all seen enough conventional and lifeless literary adaptations to last a lifetime – and there's not much wrong with the slick execution either, but in practice it simply proves to be a completely wrongheaded approach to this material.

Anna Karenina largely unfolds inside a theatre, with the world of 19^th century St. Petersburg being recreated onstage, backstage and in the surrounding balconies. Transitions involve characters simply wandering from one scene to the next – often as a backdrop is pulled away and extras change clothes behind them – and occasionally the players will all freeze as a spotlight draws our focus towards particular individuals, lost in their own private drama. Wright even uses a model train set instead of opting for expensive external or CGI-assisted shots; a charming touch that exemplifies the old-fashioned, creative, collaborative spirit infusing the whole production. Whether these decisions were driven by the director's particular vision or by the limited financial means at the filmmakers' disposal, they certainly give us an Anna Karenina that stands alone.

Whether it actually stands up under scrutiny is another matter entirely. There's nothing in Tolstoy's novel that suggests such an approach; after all, the book's realism in depicting Russian city and farming life, and in the richness of its character studies, is one of its defining features. Perhaps the idea being explored here is that St Petersburg is a stage with all of its inhabitants playing clearly defined roles, with their behaviour being constantly scrutinised by a whispering audience. This certainly appears to be the case in the way Wright handles the title character (Keira Knightly), who escapes her marriage to the dour Karenin (Jude Law) for an affair with the dashing Count Vronsky (Aaron Taylor-Johnson). It may also explain why the director opts for exterior shots when telling the story of Levin (Domhnall Gleeson), who toils the land and ponders his own romantic future with Kitty (Alicia Vikander) far from the chattering classes and social constraints of the city.

For about an hour, the sheer chutzpah of Wright's style commands the attention. At its best, Anna Karenina recalls Ophüls with its elegant camerawork and much-missed British mavericks like Powell & Pressburger or Ken Russell in its imaginative staging. But Wright is a shallow orchestrator of spectacle, and when the charm of his unconventional approach wears off, and when inspiration starts to run dry, the film has no dramatic weight to back it up. While most of the key incidents in the book are covered by Stoppard's screenplay, they are rendered in the glibbest terms. Anna's dissatisfaction with married life is given no context and her dalliance with Vronksy – which should feel like a passionate love worth throwing it all away for – feels rushed and forced. In its second half, Anna Karenina falls into a dull and repetitive rhythm with the theatrical setting only being fitfully utilised, and it rather plods towards a climax clumsily foreshadowed by repeated close-ups on the onrushing Train Wheels of Death.

Nobody wants to see another genteel period drama so trapped by the weight of prestige and propriety that it can barely breathe, but filmmakers such as Martin Scorsese (The Age of Innocence), Iain Softley (The Wings of the Dove) and Cary Fukunaga (Jane Eyre) have shown how such adaptations can be modernised and revitalised in subtle, potent ways. Wright's Anna Karenina has numerous obvious problems, from the casting of Knightly, overawed by a role that demands too much of her, to the ludicrously limp Aaron Taylor-Johnson as a romantic lead; but its biggest problem is that beneath its enterprising aesthetic approach, the film remains cold to the touch. Only the relationship that develops on the fringes of the central narrative, between the well-cast and appealingly performed Levin and Kitty, comes close to stirring some sense of feeling. This film reduces Tolstoy's great novel to a superficial and awkward puppet show, but I can't bring myself to damn it too harshly, not when its failings are the direct result of its ambition and desire to be different. Anna Karenina may be a failure, but at least this unhappy movie is unhappy in its own way.