Jeffrey M. Anderson
Leos Carax' second film has been badly described in
its current re-release publicity materials. They bring up an AIDS-like
virus called STBO, which attacks even at the merest caress. What the notes
don't tell you is that STBO is barely in the film. It's spoken of in only
one line. No one catches it, and we don't have to watch anyone die from
it. The film explains that it's a virus caught by only people who have sex
but are not in love. So, in reality, it's more of a plot device, a poetic
license, or even a Hitchcock-like "McGuffin," than the whole plot.
I wasn't looking forward to seeing Bad Blood (a.k.a. Mauvais
sang) as a result of that description. But I'm glad I did. It's
another outstanding work by Carax, the brilliant filmmaker behind The
Lovers on the Bridge and the new Pola
X.
Denis Lavant (who was wonderfully described by one critic as
"potato-faced") stars as Alex, a nimble-fingered cardsharp who makes a
living by fooling tourists and suckers on the streets of Paris. Julie
Delpy is Lise, his devoted girlfriend. When Alex' father dies, he leaves
Lise and everything else for a new start. Before he can do that, though,
he needs money. So he joins Hans (Hans Meyer), Marc (Michel Piccoli), and
Marc's lover Anna (Juliette Binoche) for a big heist--to steal the
recently isolated STBO virus.
Many other directors who have made heist and caper films have realized
that the waiting-around part can be as suspenseful as the actual heist.
Carax doesn't even make it seem like a waiting-around part. He floods it
with astounding images representing the emotional states of the
characters; mostly Alex and Anna (whom Alex has fallen madly in love
with). One particularly amazing moment has Alex dancing and cavorting
wildly to David Bowie's "Modern Love" as he runs and flips down the street
at top speed (the camera tracking alongside him). In another scene, he
imitates a baby walking to the heartrendingly beautiful music of Charlie
Chaplin's "Limelight" (composed by Chaplin himself, who gets a credit
here).
Indeed, Bad Blood reminded me of nothing less than Jean-Luc
Godard (particularly Alphaville), who, in the 1960's, often took
genre films and used them as a frame for some other story he wanted to
tell. Normally, Godard's imitators are just that -- copycats who borrow
his style of jump-cutting and whatnot. But Carax is the real thing. Bad
Blood is full of newly-invented images bursting with passion and
fire.
And, perhaps more so than in his other films, Bad Blood shows a
love for actors. Piccoli was a legend by 1986, having appeared in Godard's
Contempt (1963), Luis Bunuel's Belle de
Jour (1967), and Alfred Hitchcock's Topaz (1969). Carax
uses the natural lines on Piccoli's face to beautiful advantage, and he
comes across as a comfortably seasoned pro, relaxed and masterful. Binoche
and Delpy (both discoveries of Godard, incidentally) are stunningly
beautiful, and--like Godard photographing his beloved Anna Karina in
Vivre sa vie (1962)--Carax lets the camera gaze at them and explore
the many ways in which their faces radiate splendor. And finally, there is
Lavant, Carax' own cinematic alter ego, who has played "Alex" in three of
Carax' four films. Lavant was a former acrobat, and every card trick,
cartwheel, and fire-breathe he does for the camera is real. He moves like
Cagney, a dancer trapped in an actor's body. Though Lavant was first seen
in Entre Nous (1983), it was Carax who made him what Chuck Stephens
called "the last great screen presence of the 20th century."
Bad Blood plays for only three days following the close of
Pola X. It's been difficult to see before and will be difficult to
see again, so move it to the top of your list.
From Combustible
Celluloid
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