Hedgehog

Based on the book, Elegance of the hedgehog, by Muriel Barbery; translated by Alison Anderson. It well captures the essence of the book, even while necessarily trimming detail. Renée Michel is the concierge at a luxury apartment building in Paris who hides herself and her interests behind the appearance of the stereotype all tenants expect. Paloma Josse is the precoscious 11 year old daughter of a government minister and his hooked-on-psychoanalysis wife; she has decided to kill hersel fon her 12th birthday, in 165 days, to spare herself the absurdity of living an empty meaningless life.

When a tenant dies, the estate agent brings around a new tenant, a Japanese man who immediately is impressed with the concierge. "Did you know," he asks the concierge, the family that has left? The agent chimes in "they were very nice, very happy."

"All happy families are the same," Renée says, automatically, not thinking about it.
"But all unhappy families are unhappy in their own way," retorts Kakuro Ozu, the new tenant. Then he asks about her cat, and before the concierge can say anything the agent says its name is "Leo."

Kakuro senses that Leo is named after Leo Tolstoy; the sentences he and Renée exchanged are from Tolstoy's work "Anna Karenina." And so Renée realizes when, after the new tenant and the agent leave, she dashes into her room of books, takes a copy of "Anna Karenina" from the shelf, and finds the quotes. She immediately berates herself: she counts on not being known by her tenants as anything more than an indistinct concierge.

Soon Kakuro meets Paloma. Riding on the elevator, he asks her if she is indeed learning Japanese. Oui, she answers, and begins speaking in Japanese. Asking if he can correct her, Kakuro does so gently, amused and impressed by his new young friend. And they do become friends. Kakuro asks after Madame Michel, and Paloma wonders if he also knows that the concierge, inside of her rough exterior, is a gentle and intelligent person. In her review of the book in the NY Times in September 2008, Caryn James writes: The sharp-eyed Paloma guesses that Renée has “the same simple refinement as the hedgehog,” quills on the outside but “fiercely solitary — and terribly elegant” within. Yet there is no mention of “The Hedgehog and the Fox,” Isaiah Berlin’s essay on Renée’s beloved Tolstoy, which may make this the sliest allusion of all.

The film captures these three characters perfectly. Paloma's writings (in the book) become a video journal she is making as her last act in life. René and Kakuro are fully developed characters. All three are enamored of things Japanese. Kakuro gives Renée a present of a beautiful 2-volume ciopy of "Anna Karenina." Soon he  asks her up to his flat for dinner, and convinces her that her being a concierge should nto be a barrier between them.



I watched it twice, two days in a row, and, if anything, enjoyed it more the second time.

Greatest movie of all time?

Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo Dethrones Citizen Kane as the Greatest Movie of All-Time reads the headline of a story. Much as I enjoyed watching Jimmy Stewart in Anatomy of a murder last weekend, and much as I like Kim Novak (I lo-oh-ve Kim Novack), I don't know about that.

Move over, Orson Welles. Alfred Hitchcock’s 1958 thriller Vertigo has been named as the greatest film of all time by more than 800 international film critics and experts. The poll, carried out every 10 years by Sight & Sound, a magazine published by the British Film Institute, picked Hitchcock’s psychological drama as the best film ever made. For the past 50 years, Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane held the top spot, but this year, critics picked Hitchcock’s masterpiece over Citizen Kane, which has been relegated to second place.

I'll have to think on it.

BBC News also notes that Vertigo was Hitchcock’s most personal film in which he tackles “one of his recurring themes — love as a fetish that degrades women and deranges men.”

Hitchcock does have a reputation as a sexual bully. Funny how film people, critics and civilians, overlook the foibles (sexual and otherwise) of film makers (A certain Allen, Woody, is whom I am thinking of in this regard).

Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu’s Tokyo Story was named as the third greatest film followed by Jean Renoir’s La Règle Du Jeu (The Rules of the Game) and F. W. Murnau’s Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans. The list of the top 50 greatest films, compiled by Sight & Sound, can be found here.

I saw several Ozu films early last year (From reading The elegance of the hedgehog, I became aware of this Japanese film maker. Luckily, the library where I work owns 3 of Ozu's films on DVD), and I agree that he made great films.

Time has it own 100 greatest films list.

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