Wild Grass | DVD Review

Like a patch of troublesome weeds, this film by Alain Resnais meanders in many narrative directions – some amusing, some painfully jarring – but all of them strangely interesting and deeply personal. We meet a middle-aged house husband (Andre Dussolllier) with a shadowy past who one day finds the lost wallet of a neurotic, fiery haired dentist (Sabine Azema), unleashing a bizarre and baffling chain of events. A wide range of ingredients go into this thick and mysterious cinematic stew, as Resnais channels distinct elements of Hitchcock and Chabrol, as well as allusions to the lushly romantic cinema of the WWII era which, presumably, would have been the 88 year-old director’s most impressionable years.

Wild Grass begins in a logical and organic manner. Resnais introduces us to the world of the film through a lengthy series of medium close-ups – he employed a similar technique in Last Year at Marienbad – that drip with a quiet, lyrical beauty. Gradually the scope is widened and the film’s reflective, internal reverie is shattered by a sudden and random act of petty theft. The victim is Azema, and Resnais uses this incident to great effect by quickly establishing her character’s oblique and dreamy edges. Azema simply does not react the way people in movies are supposed to react and, while subtly reminding us of Janet Leigh in Psycho, here Resnais serves notice that the balance of the film will present numerous challenges to our expectations.

The story’s core revolves around the relationship between Azema and Dusollier, and here the dynamics of unrequited love are taken to counter-intuitive extremes. Presented as a ping-pong match of obsession and rejection, Resnais delicately constructs a world that vacillates between the romantic ideals of the past and the coarse, sex-driven aesthetic of the modern era. The sophisticated director displays a surprisingly loving homage to some corny filmmaking techniques as well – the shock zooms during the interrogation scene are intentionally ham-fisted – but in general these moments serve to further immerse the audience in the film’s tricky surreal balancing act. Resnais scores big with his process driving shots; their superimposed close-ups and garishly colored backgrounds give us a rare clarity into his characters’ deteriorating mental states.

The film’s chief weakness is the same one that has afflicted many French movies of late. With the graying of France’s most internationally bankable stars, we are seeing preposterous age differentials in recent films. Here, Dussollier is supposed to be about 50; however his handsome face shows every crease of his 64 years. His wife in the film, perky Anne Cosigny, would have been much more believable as a daughter. We are seeing this phenomenon more and more: The Girl from the Train asked us to believe that Catherine Deneuve was the mother of a teenager while Home presented Isabelle Huppert as having kids in middle school. These inconsistencies are distracting and can present insurmountable barriers to credibility. It is high time auteurs began creating age appropriate roles for these remarkable and eminently watchable talents.

In the final reel, Wild Grass loses some of its trance-like introspection, as well as a measure of coherence, as Resnais begins to toss in huge chunks of narrative turf from left field. And while many will find the coda a bit outlandish for such a carefully constructed film, it does advance the director’s vision of vividly crafted dreaminess. The audience’s final release from the film’s hypnotic web is both abrupt and disorienting. While we may not fully agree with his ultimate methodology, Resnais has created a mesmerizing field guide to the symbiotic relationship of cinema, dreams and human consciousness.

Wild Grass is a beautiful film to look at. The anamorphic transfer is first rate, capturing cinematographer Eric Gauthier’s color rich vision in all its subtle detail. The scenes involving policeman Matthieu Amalric have an icy blue patina that contrasts nicely with the bright sunny exteriors. The large set pieces, filmed as night exteriors, are rendered with crackling neon reds and greens. The disc was viewed upscaled to 1080p and frankly it’s difficult to imagine a blu-ray version looking a whole lot better.

5.1 is the only audio mix available, which is fine since the French generally don’t abuse the format unlike their American counterparts. We really don’t need the sound of car engines whooshing behind our heads to appreciate the film’s recondite observations. The score by Mark Snow is a vital dramatic component, particularly the moody jazz that accompanies the night exteriors, and the music swells but never stomps. Particularly arresting is the high register percussion which punches through with vigor.

The disc doesn’t get high marks for extras. An interview with Resnais is sadly lacking. Generally, hearing directors pontificate on their own works can be quite dull, but with a film as obtuse as Wild Grass, such commentary would have been illuminating.

The Portrait of Production Designer Jacques Saulnier:

This pleasant 6 ½ minute vignette features the long time Resnais collaborator as he attempts to build a large street front cinema façade that will serve as the setting for one of the film’s pivotal scenes. There’s some cursory insight into the tricks of the set designer’s trade, such as playing with scale and creating the illusion of great depth and distance. As for the meaning of the film itself, Saulnier appears to be as much in the dark as the rest of us.

Theatrical Trailer:

Interesting for its ability to capture the film’s sense of mystery, without making you feel that you’ve already seen it.

French directors of a certain age like Resnais, Godard and the recently deceased Rohmer and Chabrol, have managed to remain creative and vital in a very tough business. While Wild Grass certainly has its weaknesses, it’s also a haunting and compelling piece of cinema. There are those who will dismiss its arty textures without probing its deep and delicate pleasures. And that’s a shame, for the perceptions of a filmmaker approaching the age of 90 are rare, and they can be savored and appreciated without being fully understood.

Movie rating – 3.5

Disc Rating – 3