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| Under The Sand |
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  (8/10)
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Runtime: 96 m |
| Public Rating: 10.00 (1 votes) |
Director: François Ozon |
MPAA Rating:  |
| Genre: Drama |
Year: 2000 |
| Writer(s): François Ozon, Emmanuelle Bernheim, Marcia Romano, Marina de V |
| Reviewed by: Vadim Rizov |
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As any film buff knows, explaining to your non film-buff friends what, exactly, you have been watching lately can be frustrating, especially when they ask "Why would anyone want to watch THAT?" This is why,
inevitably, you have to be cautious in the way you describe what you've been watching lately, because "A foreign film about death" doesn't cut it for many people; they beginning envisioning eternal long shots, long stretches without dialogue, and long stretches of Bergman-esque
dialogue, or what they think Bergman stands for (as the short Bergman parody The Dove says: "Soon it will be winter, and I will be dead." )
This is the perfect film to take those people to (provided, of course, that they can read subtitles). Under The Sand is far more accessible to those not interested in foreign films than you might expect. There are almost no lengthy long shots, the editing is fairly brisk and Ozon's choices often intriguing and surprising, and the symbolism is eminently decipharable. There's even - be still, my beating heart - some humor. It's a long way from here to Abbas Kiarostami, and that's a good thing, since the film that he and other make, excellent as they are, threaten to pigeonhole, in the USA, foreign films as the weighty endurance tests that never make any sense on a literal level. Ozon instead chooses to tell in a very straightforward way a tale with a lot of emotional ramifactions, some of them unsettling and disturbing.
Charlotte Rampling, who, with her starring role in The Night Porter kicked off the singularly awful Nazi sexploitation genre, has developed considerably as an actress since then, which means she gets to tackle a meaty role like this. She and husband Bruno Cremer (French TV's Maigret) toddle down to the beach for their annual vacation, and he disappears in the surf while she's taking a nap. Nobody can find any evidence to support or dispute the idea of death, but so much time goes by that everyone assumes he's dead. Not Rampling: she sees him round the house and buys him presents, and even with a brand-new lover in her life she considers herself to be cheating on him rather than moving on in her life.
In a refreshing change of pace, Ozon resolves things on a literal level as well as leaving his main character adrift by the end. It's not often enough that waves on the beach get photographed so satisfyingly and compellingly (even if he does toss in some gratuitous nudity just to shock you; it ain't workin', boy). The final shot is deeply disturbing, and the film is an all-around bummer. But it's fascinating and well-done, an original work rather than a rip-off from past masters. Ozon's technical skills are top-notch, and his musical choices are equally good. Destined to be one of the best films of the year, it also reportedly is Ozon's first non-callow film. Here's hoping for more.
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