Auteursday: Almayer’s Folly (2011)
Cast: Stanislas Merhar, Marc Barbé, Aurora Marion
Director: Chantal Akerman
Country: Belgium | France
Genre: Drama
Official Trailer: Here
Editor’s Notes: The following review of Almayer’s Folly is a part of Jose Gallegos’ weekly series Auteursday.
Belgian director Chantal Akerman has etched out her own style, one that depends primarily on hyperrealism and minimalism. Initially drawing influence from Jean-Luc Godard’s Pierrot le fou (1965), she set out to create a cinema just as dynamic and subversive. However, a trip to New York and a chance viewing of the film of Michael Snow and Andy Warhol proved to leave a greater impression on her than the New Wave iconoclast. She created her masterpieces in 1974, with Je, Tu, Il, Elle, and in 1975, with the fantastic Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, firmly establishing herself as a minimalist director. Yet as with any artist or director, time evolves and, in some cases, completely alters a person’s style. Looking at Akerman’s most recent endeavor, La Folie Almayer (2011), it is evident that Akerman is not the same director she once was. Her style is not the same, and if anything, her adherence to cinematic conventions and clichés has prevented her from exploring the issues and characters that made her the subject of feminist film studies. Akerman’s style is a ghost of what it once was, showing traces of the greatness that she once had, but will most likely never duplicate.
Akerman’s style is a ghost of what it once was, showing traces of the greatness that she once had, but will most likely never duplicate.
Based (loosely) on the novel by Joseph Conrad, La Folie Almayer takes place in 1950s Malaysia where Kaspar Almayer (Stanislas Merhar) has settled in order to search for gold mines. Trapped in a loveless marriage to a Malaysian woman named Zahira (Sakhna Oum), the only joy in Almayer’s life is his mixed daughter, Nina (later played by Aurora Marion). Almayer’s partner/confidant, Captain Lingard (Marc Barbé) forces Almayer into placing his daughter in a boarding school where she will receive a “white” education. Almayer reluctantly obliges, unknowingly transforming his daughter from a happy and hopeful child into a bitter and emotionless woman.
The film’s central character, Nina, displays the qualities of Akerman’s typical heroine: despondent, detached, and lacking in emotion. However, unlike the performances given by Akerman herself (in Je, Tu, Il, Elle) and Delphine Seyrig (in Jeanne Dielman), Marion never truly astounds with her acting potential. In certain scenes, such as Nina’s opening song directed to the audience, the character of Nina is a sight to behold. However, these moments are few and far between, and because Akerman lacks the finesse with which she created her aforementioned masterpieces, the character of Nina becomes predictable and less dynamic as the film proceeds.
The film is fragmented and jagged, altering between moments of melodrama and moments of Akerman’s signature hyperreality. The film never heads in one direction, but finds itself torn down two conflicting paths.
The film itself becomes just as predictable and lackluster, primarily due to Akerman’s conventional style. In adapting Conrad’s novel, Akerman decided to take a more conventional approach, only referencing her bare bones style every once in awhile to give the film flavor. The film is fragmented and jagged, altering between moments of melodrama and moments of Akerman’s signature hyperreality. The film never heads in one direction, but finds itself torn down two conflicting paths. The result of directionless film: a so-so adaptation that could have been created by any filmmaker other than Akerman. There is nothing truly “Akerman” about this film, and that is the disappointing reality.
Although it is difficult to put a final verdict on the film (it is neither terrible, nor great), the one aspect on which any Akerman devotee can agree is that this film is nowhere near any of her masterworks. In the context of her film canon, this film is a pastiche, one that is conventional, yet sporadically nods to Akerman’s former glory. Clearly Akerman’s minimalist style was etched out in sand, and the waves of time washed away her finesse and perfection. Unfortunately, one can only hope that Akerman returns to her former glory, as these sporadic minimalist moments are all that we have to cling on to.
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