Dry Cleaning

the idea is far to be now. the performances - decent. in fact, correct use of stereotype who was imposed by Teorema. the young seductive man. the wife remembering Madame Bovary. the husband on the top of solitude. provocative scenes and dialogues. not real surprising end. the only memory after few years after I saw it - the atmosphere. the ambiguous sexuality, the crisis of marriage and the last decision. and nothing more because the film is just occasion to intrigue, seduce and propose an idea who represents part of many couples fear.

The mellow, mesmerising tune of the theme music by Edouard Dubois made me watch this movie twice while on a transcontinental flight. The music was only one reason among others that made me watch the film twice in four hours. I am a French film enthusiast and the contents of the film (latent homosexuality, guilt, cross dressing, etc.)were not out of the ordinary. What was striking in the film was the deliberate, structured screenplay that made me recall early works of Marcel Carne. I was not surprised to learn that the screenplay won an award at the prestigious Venice Film Festival and nominated for a Cesar in France.

The film's beginning and end revolve around affirmation of marital bonds, while the bulk of the film (to me only the sub-plot) ventures into transgression of those bonds followed by redemption. There is sadness at the end but it also accompanied by a silent studied reaffirmation of faith between man and wife. The final walk of the duo is an ordinary event yet captured powerfully in this film. I recommend this film to those who have not seen it not as a film that is extraordinary, but one which encourages viewers to introspect and look at ordinary lives, not of superheroes but of less than perfect men and women. The film succeeds because of low-keyed acting (Merhar and Miou-Miou), the sombre yet mesmerising music and good mise-en-scene. The film discusses "drycleaning" of two individuals' marital life, but the script and the director elevate the wife as strong personality with a level-headed strength developed quite unobtrusively as the film progresses. Anne Fontaine, the director, is someone to watch out for in the future as is Edouard Dubois. In more ways than one (direction, cinematography, the script) the film gives a woman's perspective of the story, though a wee bit sombre.

Sad, melancholic, nostalgic and soft.

A film about illusions and impossibility of escape. Description of failure and ambiguous expectation. French flavor and marks from Pasolini, empty universes and slices of love, game without innocence and failure of dreams.

A world, a small world where the work is only real refuge. Where the memories or the projects are shadows of a lost time and a bovaric certitude.

Delicate and tender, subtle and innocent, this film is a pledge for discover the sense of existence. The image of war with the other or with yourself, the fear like basic answer to the movement of time, the questions like skin of interior fog, the presence of temptation in the person of an androgynous teenager, the looks, deceptions or infidelity are elements of ordinary life. For everyone, "The Queens of Night" are key to a second chance, to a form of happiness. But always, the happiness is puzzle of illusions and the old rules are more strong that any form of seduction. In final, the corpse of a gorgeous dream like only "souvenir" of a perverse form of normality.

An interesting and somewhat mysterious tale of a middle aged couple who grow disillusioned with their dry cleaning business and find outlet with a cross dressing brother-sister-lover couple of performers. Their mutual obsession naturally leads to the demise of their relationships, businesses and ultimately their lives.

The script is a bit dry, and lacks the punch that the subject matter is capable of delivering. Near the final act it tries to catch up as the homosexual attraction between the young man and the older husband comes zooming out of nowhere. A good editor would've suggested they drop some kind of hint earlier on.

The abrupt and troubling ending leaves you satisfied.

Saw a humongously uninspired French movie, Dry Cleaning (Nettoyage a Sec), that the advertisers swear won Cesar awards all over the place, but is just a hodgepodge of every foreign movie cliche that might strike an upscale audience as profound: a sexually ambiguous stranger insinuates himself into the lives of a married couple, engaging them in sexual games that bring them to the brink of self-destruction. She's desolate without the young man; the husband wrestles with his denial that he's also turned on by the stranger. Of course this is "art theatre," so we are to suppose that every straight man is really a gay man who hasn't found out yet. On the other hand the homosexual aspect of the story becomes the vehicle that carries the husband into his own corner of hell, an idea that seemed arty thirty-odd years ago (The Sergeant; The Children's Hour) but now is just insulting to gays. And of course the story is dotted with major and minor sexual interludes and taunts, but relationships are left to angry, dissatisfying silences between not-particularly-interesting characters. Story elements are offered that suggest the plot could go somewhere else but instead lead nowhere (the young man's sister leaves and conceivably might return looking for him; the young man has genuine talent as a dry-cleaner and might make a life for himself beyond his "drifter" existence; the married couple thinks about moving to Canada). I think the filmmaker has a long way to go in justifying why he wanted to make this movie -- what he thought would make this film extraordinary compared to some other story about dissolving marriage or sexual curiosity. Imagine La Strada if Anthony Quinn just sat around and brooded. If Thomas Mann had written Dry Cleaning it would be called Death in Suburbia: except that, speaking strictly for myself, I think it's the audience that dies.