Good Austrian film directors do exist in recent years -- Gotz Spielmann is a good example -- but they are a minority, overshadowed by the pseudo-serious, humorless, overpraised, unwatchable majority led by Michael Haneke. _The Beast in the Jungle_, a fairly literal adaptation of a famous Henry James novella, is directed by Patric Chiha, who is firmly in the latter category.
A young man John Marcher (Tom Mercier, adopting the Henry James novella character's name) thinks something momentous will happen in his life and spends the next 15 years waiting for it. He goes to a dance club every Saturday but hangs back, seldom joining the dancing. May Bartrum (Anais Demoustier) somehow becomes besotted, perhaps touched by his loneliness, and meets with him every weekend even after she is married to an increasingly jealous Pierre (Martin Vischer). John is a vacuous, self-absorbed specimen unmoved by the most earth-shattering events shown in news-clips throughout the film. The AIDS epidemic, the fall of the Berlin War, the 9/11 attacks in the U. S., Demoustier's out-of-this-world charm come and go, and he is still waiting for Godot. Perhaps he is a metaphor for boring Austrian movie directors?
The film would have no reason to exist if it weren't for Demoustier, playing against type (excitable neurotics) as a level-headed old-soul. Still she is vivacious enough on the dance-floor to seduce anyone -- but John simply wouldn't dance with her, or give her a kiss. Dancing is a metaphor for life in the heavily stylized film. Chiha probably gets his inspiration from Claire Denis's _Beau Travail_ and Gaspar Noe's _Climax_, although the monotone techno music and dance moves (surely anachronistic for the 80s?) only succeed in making everyone look like zombies. Another influence may be Wong Kar-Wai's _In the Mood for Love_, with mostly indoor locations, elaborate period garments, saturated colors, and focus on the heroine's shoes. The comparison doesn't flatter Chiha's film, unfortunately; the historical specificity isn't there, and _Beast_ can really use a brilliant coda, a sense of rupture (or rapture) seen at the end of _In the Mood_.
Beatrice Dalle relieves the monotony somewhat as the narrator and dresses up as some kind of witch, guardian of time's passage, or Queen of the North. Otherwise Demoustier has to carry the film for her bland costar and boring director, and even her magnetic charm isn't enough this time.
A young man John Marcher (Tom Mercier, adopting the Henry James novella character's name) thinks something momentous will happen in his life and spends the next 15 years waiting for it. He goes to a dance club every Saturday but hangs back, seldom joining the dancing. May Bartrum (Anais Demoustier) somehow becomes besotted, perhaps touched by his loneliness, and meets with him every weekend even after she is married to an increasingly jealous Pierre (Martin Vischer). John is a vacuous, self-absorbed specimen unmoved by the most earth-shattering events shown in news-clips throughout the film. The AIDS epidemic, the fall of the Berlin War, the 9/11 attacks in the U. S., Demoustier's out-of-this-world charm come and go, and he is still waiting for Godot. Perhaps he is a metaphor for boring Austrian movie directors?
The film would have no reason to exist if it weren't for Demoustier, playing against type (excitable neurotics) as a level-headed old-soul. Still she is vivacious enough on the dance-floor to seduce anyone -- but John simply wouldn't dance with her, or give her a kiss. Dancing is a metaphor for life in the heavily stylized film. Chiha probably gets his inspiration from Claire Denis's _Beau Travail_ and Gaspar Noe's _Climax_, although the monotone techno music and dance moves (surely anachronistic for the 80s?) only succeed in making everyone look like zombies. Another influence may be Wong Kar-Wai's _In the Mood for Love_, with mostly indoor locations, elaborate period garments, saturated colors, and focus on the heroine's shoes. The comparison doesn't flatter Chiha's film, unfortunately; the historical specificity isn't there, and _Beast_ can really use a brilliant coda, a sense of rupture (or rapture) seen at the end of _In the Mood_.
Beatrice Dalle relieves the monotony somewhat as the narrator and dresses up as some kind of witch, guardian of time's passage, or Queen of the North. Otherwise Demoustier has to carry the film for her bland costar and boring director, and even her magnetic charm isn't enough this time.
