"Paris" Is Showing At The Salem Cinema--A Film Worth Seeing

Two of us caught a showing of "Paris" at the Salem Cinema the other night. I think that the film is worth seeing. Here's why.

The film brings together some aspects of many peoples' lives in an urban setting and reminds us of how complex our lives are and how little we know one another and, we can say, ourselves as well. The film is not a documentary, and does not pretend to be, but it shows some of the stress points of modern urban alienation and some of the qualities in people which make life bearable and redeemable.

The characters and their experiences are mainly observed or connected to one another by a man waiting in his apartment for a heart transplant, but there is no magical realism or happy ending in the film which connects everyone and assures us that all will be well. In fact, there are points when we worry: will an immigrant make it safely from Africa to France, will a person survive a motorcycle accident, will human relationships flower or die? A few people triumph over angst and adversity, a couple of people stand poised at the end of the film for a new beginning, but in the main urban life goes on as it has since the beginning of the film. This is another kind of realism.

We noted that the heart patient lives in a country with a better medical system than the one we have here in the US. There is no freaking out about the costs of the operation so the patient and those close to him can experience one another in more human and unmediated ways, and they struggle vainly to do so. One of the characters is involved in union contract negotiations and can speak frankly or bluntly with her work mates about the sacrifices the negotiating team is making and what support she needs from them. This will be less familiar to an American audience than to a French audience, sad to say. Several of the characters are proletarians who stutter through their lives trying to find connection and love. The prejudices of a small shop owner are painted for us as emblematic of class relations and class insecurities. The Africans live on the periphery, even in Paris, and may be the least sullied of all the dreamers and hopers. In almost every case the filmmaker draws us in: we want to step into the film and help most of these lost people. Perhaps we want to help because we ourselves also need so much help. To some extent, then, the film is a somewhat distorted mirror.

The soundtrack is an odd mix that doesn't quite fit the mood of the film or help set its scenes most often. The film is awkward enough and the soundtrack makes it more so, giving the alienation expressed more depth and more of an edge.

We can argue--we should argue--with the way the film gives more to men than to women and with the closing arguments made by the main character. Something more than a city is at stake here, although the film clearly loves Paris, and the film works against itself perhaps in reminding us that human alienation and tragedy have not yet surpassed the ability of people to act affirmatively and set matters right.