“The Promise”

The thirty-eight year old Guatemalan-American actor, Oscar Isaac, can not do much wrong in this reviewer’s eyes. The camera loves him, too. But the one scene in “The Promise” that will stay with every viewer is the tear rolling down the cheek of that dark-eyed and heavily browed face of his. His face can master any emotion, and staring in the first American film to be  made about the 1915 Armenian genocide gives that face full play.

Filmed like the 1960’s epic ” Dr. Zivago”, he is our Omar Sharif, but with more conscience and a sweeter, cerebral passion. As Mikael Boghosian, a Turkish-Armenian apothecary, Isaac ‘s emotive eyes glint with medical ambition. He promises to marry a sweet village girl for a dowery of 400 gold coins. He will then have the funds to travel to Constantinople and study at The Imperical. His fiancée, Maral ( Angela Sarafyan ) and he will come to love each other.

Once we find Mikael in Constantinople at his uncle’s villa and see his visceral response to the worldly Algerian, Ana ( Charlotte Le Bon ), who teaches his young cousins dance and Parisian songs, we are ready for another love triangle, commensurate with the one in ” The Ottoman’s Lieutenant” ( reviewed here March 14, 2017 ). This Turkish funded film does not address the genocide of the Armenians, while ” The Promise” angerly asserts the inhumanity of Talaat Pasha, the Turkish minister. The grand visier of the Ottoman Empire is a war criminal in this film.

The cinematography of Javier Aquirresrobe with its unique manipulation of light from the close-ups of an emerald green money pouch to the reeds near a stream will enthrall. Narrow paths, donkey rides, and beautiful vistas are a respite from the scenes of carnage. His balanced eye and romantic flare serve ” The Promise” well. His overhead shots are amazingly beautiful.

One of the most harrowing scenes is Mikael’s escape on the roof of train cars carrying Armenian villagers to be exterminated. The Holocaust analogy is clearly made.

Director Terry George does equally well with a rather poor script. The dialogue oft seems out of era, for example, Ana’s ” I need to sort things out with Chris. ” Or Maral ‘s father’s ” After the wedding, you will head for the hills…” Likewise, Christian Bales seems a tad out of place as the American journalist. He does well with adventuresome and abrasive, but not so well with wooden dialogue like, ” I wish to go with the orphans to record this for prosperity.”

Secondary actors make a strong presence in ” The Promise”. Aaron Neil is a villainous Pasha; Marwan Kenzari, a friend for all ages. Shohreh Aghdashloo is moving and almost biblical as Mikael’s mother, Marta. Firelight confessions, vengeful thoughts, true friendship and shared loves all converge.

The beautiful score by Gabriel Yared merges with actual 1915 photos to pummel the viewers with epic emphasis. “There are no words”, only echoes.

Viewers will not forget Oscar Isaac’s horrendous grief scenes. Nor will they forget the lies. ” There is no war here. Merely, a reassignment to a safer region.” Even, the vizier’s blatant grab at his victim’s insurance money ring of modern evils. “The Promise” is a belated toast to Armenian survival at a little over two hours.

“Saint Laurent”

“Yves St. Laurent Slips Away” may have been the headline in Paris’s “Le Monde” in 1977, but in this 2014 biopic, it is St. Laurent’s character that slides. The self-destructive couturier and self-indulgent 33 year old is superbly played by actor Pierre Niney. Niney looks like YSL and has his mannerisms,as well as,actually dressing in his clothes and luxuriating in Yves St. Laurent’s apartments. We learn of St.Laurent’s work rituals like his wearing of white lab coats and his penchant for classical music. We also learn of his substance abuse and his passion for risky sex and chocolate mousse. The film makes it clear that he was the artistic genius who had no interest in the scheduling or in the business transactions. As his assistant prattles on about the day’s line-up of appointments,he rebuffs her with,”Let me listen to my music,please.” As he draws and sketches,selects fabrics and models,and attends fittings,his partner Pierre Berge (Guillaume Gallienne) runs the fashion house’s financial side. Laurent complains of Pierre to his girl pals Lou Lou and Betty,”You can vanish here–only power and money interest him,the monster!”

Berge was more than cooperative in getting the film “St. Laurent” made. He comes off as the stabilizing factor in Yves’ life. He puts up with temper tantrums,infidelity, boozy clubbing,and St. Laurent’s easy boredom. We,in turn, see Laurent locked in his quarters and managed like a child. Laurent’s own mother tells her son that he has”left the world” and can not change a light bulb. Pierre can and will was his response. It is Pierre that picks up Yves passed out and dumped body at a construction site. It is Pierre who tries to avert a scandal by halting an interview from being published. And it is Pierre Berge who amassed 350 million dollars after St. Laurent’s death. More than Michael Jackson’s or Elvis Presley’s estates earned by comparison.

One scene has a drug addled YSL pick up a Roman bust and attempt to smash Berge’s head in as he slept. Most of this drama stems from the real villain of the film,the debauched socialite,Jacques de Bascher. Introduced to St.Laurent by fashion rival Karl Langerfeld,Jacques (Xavier Lafitte)has no limits on kinky sex or on heavy acid dropping. His most yucky line is ,”why not step into the bushes?” With Jacques,fear and ugliness enter like the cobras YSL hallucinates. Still in this eighteen year relationship with Laurent,Berge begs “Don’t let him destroy us.” St. Laurent responded with,”I love bodies without souls.” Berge later gives St.Laurent a painting of Proust’s bedroom,staid and 19thc safe.

The film’s director Jalil Lespert uses flashbacks inordinately. Beginning in 1974 where YSL books a Parisian room under the name Mr.Swann (a toast to Proust, maybe) to the Algerian home where he dresses dolls for his sisters,the scenes and atmospheres jump back and forth.This is effective for the “untold story”, but not so much for the actual factual one. One really needs to already know that St. Laurent was the first living artist to have a solo exhibit at the Met. or that he ushered in “men’s clothing for women” in the form of tuxedos and trousers, and that he pushed the borders of couture  with the sheer blouse. That he was a protégée of Christian Dior or the that he retired in Marrakesh was not broached. What was shown was his love of music,Maria Callas in particular. His goals of art acquisitions like Matisse, Mondrian and Rothko;his wish to please his mother,his early hobby of collecting y- shaped sticks for good luck,his cameo collection in later life and his Buddha altar were all interesting.

I enjoyed seeing the actual seamstress work and appreciated the pressure they were often under. “Tell Mr. Laurent that I am not Houdini’s wife” was a telling line. How to keep satin-backed organza simple was refreshing, as was watching gigantic scissors slicing through patterns. The collections and the runway shows entranced. The scenes with girl pals Lou Lou and model Betty were fun. My favorite line being St. Laurent’s, “Let’s go in disguise and terrorize everyone” would have a different take today.

I did not enjoy the 1971 disco clubbing or the four year old French bulldog Moujik’s demise from spilled pills. The fancy granite headstone and box of white lilies hardly made up for the pet’s panting,drooling and suffering. I disliked the pseudo-frontal nudity and the genital jewelry. Somehow,”you dress the world” does not include these. The film left me feeling sad for YSL’s shallowness. His “fashion passes like a train” will be want I hope to remember.