I will show many pictures. Film is just a way to tell a story. It has its own way to build a tale, it has its own language. And, just as in theatre, it needs characters doing stuff to keep the story going (in contrast to for instance a novel, that can take place entirely in a person’s mind)*. The characters must be shown (duh). But how they are shown is a voice in the tale. And in Angel A it’s a dominant voice.
The story is easy forgotten (and I think I did) – a loosely plotted screwball comedy rapid dialogue bang bang run complain fight script. The tale is this. Jamel Debbouze plays André who wants to commit suicide in Paris (by jumping in the Seine). Rie Rasmussen plays Angela, an angel that is sent to save André (and it will be her last trip to earth). In the hurly-burly dialogued story they become a better person and angel and (et cetera). Because it doesn´t matter.
Thus, all the honours go to Luc Besson’s regular cinematographer Thierry Arbogast who composed an impressive story-line in images. The black and white is breathtaking, the clarity of each shot is perfect and the composition within the frame is elegant and sophisticated. Like a set of original black and white photos. Something for a fashion brand, a perfume label. So yes, this is what it ends up to be, a silly story dressed up as a fragrance.
Thus the beauty becomes awkward. As if each picture is the advertisement of a movie. I just keep thinking ‘hopefully it is not advertising this movie’. But it is. And you realise while you watch, that something is wrong here. The images keep on tumbling in their own little perfect universe. And then they drop on your eyes one by one without their disguise, thick self-indulgent clichés.
Strange right? Just look at the pictures. Beautiful. Perfect. At least, that’s what I think. Then why? Why do I end up describing them as clichés, as clean yet uninspired little advertisement in a movie that really is about nothing at all. It took me a while. And then I remembered this:
Recognise it? Of course you do! It must have been in every girls room in the eighties and nineties of the previous century. It’s Robert Doisneau, the famous French photographer. And it is especially this photo (a stunning photo) that to me evolved in a cliché easily used by advertising to sell fashion or fragrances.
So. Am I visually challenged? Poisoned with thirty-some years of visually amputated imagination? Or was Angel A stunning in craftsmanship and perfect in its visual execution, but not all that good in the story and the comedy? In that case, maybe the visual style is indeed just a cover up. A case of introvert propaganda, seduction, advertisement. Nothing wrong with that. But the marketing does not suit the product. It’s selling some funny accessories (a goofy hat and a jolly pair of gloves with the fingers cut off) with the air of a Big French Fashion Show.
And that is just silly.
Bas
