Crying on the Inside

An undercurrent of sadness defeats the laughs in Portrait Chinois.

There's a scene fairly early on in Portrait Chinois in which sleazy, womanizing movie producer Alphonse (Miki Manojlovic) asks his latest prospective conquest for her honest opinion of his last film, to which she replies that the lead character is boring and shows no change throughout the story. "It's not a Bergman film," she reminds him. It's very tempting to say the same about Portrait Chinois itself: While it shows couplings change, or in some cases disperse and reunite, the characters generally don't show a whole lot of dynamism. And it certainly isn't a Bergman film. Still, it's impossible to dismiss this movie that easily. These characters may not be the greatest ever committed to celluloid, but at the very least they're interesting to watch.

If a movie were made on these shores about young people falling in and out of couplehood while trying to make it in the glamorous worlds of film and fashion, it would probably star Freddie Prinze Jr., feature songs by Creed and Silverchair, and generally be pretty insufferable. Set the whole thing in France, and, presto! Instant art-house credibility. The only recognizable singer on the soundtrack is Leonard Cohen, and the only recognizable face, to American audiences at least, is Helena Bonham Carter. These types of choices may help explain why the French consistently maintain their edge when it comes to relationship movies. And, oh yes, Bonham Carter speaks French fluently. Her character is an English expat, but it would probably take a native Parisian to point out any flaws in her accent or vocabulary. The only thing even slightly out of place is the Edward Scissorhands look she's been sporting since Fight Club, but we can cut the movie star a little slack.

Helena plays Ada, a young fashion designer and the protégée of a successful mogul in the industry. Her live-in boyfriend, Paul (Jean-Philippe Ecoffey), is an aspiring screenwriter who is in the midst of a stalled collaboration with Guido (Sergio Castellitto), one of Ada's exes, who is so torn up over a more recent breakup that he spends much of the time in his pajamas on Paul and Ada's couch. Anxiously awaiting Paul and Guido's forthcoming would-be masterpiece are actor-producer Yves (Yvan Attal, of Love Etc.), and the aforementioned sleazy producer Alphonse, who's known around the office as General Custer due to an alleged proclivity for tying up his "squaws." Rounding out the extended circle, more or less, are Emma (Elsa Zylberstein), an aspiring singer who gets a job as a script reader for Alphonse, and Lise (Romane Bohringer), a younger, hungrier (in more ways than one) protégée of the fashion mogul whom Ada works for.

Got all that? Good, because that's the setup, and the rest of the film simply explores how the whole dynamic evolves. We meet all the characters at Paul and Ada's housewarming party, and personalities are quickly established: Ada is the harsh one with a dark sense of humor (her grand tour of the house consists of saying "Here's a room. We're not sure what to do with it yet"); Emma, who looks like a French Jennifer Aniston, is the insecure one, crying that nobody loves her; actor Yves takes himself way too seriously, savaging a fellow partygoer who dares offer an opinion of his film; Alphonse is an outright womanizer from the beginning; Paul has a roving eye, try as he might to deny it; and Lise is anxious to be the recipient of said ocular organ (among others).

Portrait Chinois is clearly trying to be a comedy, and has occasional laugh-out-loud moments, such as a well-crafted scene in which a despondent Guido repeatedly bangs his head against the breakfast table and is intercepted by Paul, who places a box of crackers betwixt table and head. Exit Paul, fade out the lights, and we soon realize that it's night, and Guido has spent the entire day in this position. Other attempts at humor, however, are at best mildly amusing; perhaps because it's hard to find an original way to satirize the movie and fashion industry any more. Sample quip: "It's really hip, just look at the prices!" There's also a darker undertone that kills the laugh lines: These people are sufficiently depressed, and lead such unfulfilling lives, that you feel bad finding humor in their day-to-day routines. Or maybe there's just not enough wackiness to satisfy a Hollywood-conditioned sensibility.

At any rate, the performances are all first-rate, especially Bohringer, who, factoring in flashback scenes, must evolve from a young adolescent to fully confident career woman, thus making her the film's most fluid character by a long shot. Manojlovic is a great sleazeball, but he's just likable enough that you believe his apparent redemption actually has a chance of working. The final resolution is just a little too clean all around, especially for a French film, but you can't really end a romantic comedy on a downer note, even if you've filled the movie with them.