Claire Denis has waited close to 34 years to get back into Cannes competition. The film that got her there might be the worst of her career.
I’ve seen every Denis since 1988’s “Chocolat,” and her comp entry “The Stars at Noon” is not worthy of her talents. Albeit, the French filmmaker is very esoteric, niche if you will, she has her hardcore fanbase and they will like anything she puts out. And yet, she hasn’t made something this mediocre since, probably, 1994’s “I Can’t Sleep.”
Adapting Denis Johnson’s novel of the same name, “The Stars at Noon” has Margaret Qualley naked during most of the movie. Qualley stars as a failed journalist stranded in present-day Nicaragua falling for a mysterious Englishman (Joe Alwyn) who is up to his knees in problems with not just local authorities, but also the CIA. This puts her in grave danger as well.
It does start off well, with Denis introducing Qualley’s rogue journalist, a woman unafraid of the dangerous setting she seems to be in. Qualley’s Trish skips around her small Nicaraguan town, smartphone at hand despite the fact that the war depicted on-screen occurred in the ‘80s. Alwyn’s Daniel is in the petroleum business, doing dirty business dealings with the wrong people. After she sleeps with him, Trish realizes that the people he’s doing contracts with might be moles, America-controlled puppets.
Denis’ film is a mood piece, of sorts, with a jazzy score heard throughout. There is no texture, it’s listless, it feels rushed and messy. Our lead characters hop from one situation after the next with not much context put behind these actions. Its 135 minute runtime feels bloated instead of freewheeling.
They both escape, lovers on the lam and that’s when the film turns bad. There is no clear destination. Guy Lecorne’s messy editing doesn’t help in making things any clearer. You can feel this film was rushed. Denis screenplay is also filled with terrible dialogue, almost wooden in places.
The film relies heavily on Qualley and Alwyn’s romance, but they have n0 chemistry together, truly none at all. You can’t be gripped by a film when you don’t believe the two lovebirds at its core actually care for each other — to the point where it becomes unintentionally hilarious to watch them pretend to love each other.
Denis has nothing to prove, she’s made great films throughout her career (“Beau Travail,” “35 Shots of Rum”) but finally coming back to Cannes competition with the nadir of her career must hurt. [D+]
Edward Berger seems to have settled on what comes next. His Lance Armstrong biopic, starring Austin Butler, is now holding casting calls, with production eyed for January.