Movie Review: Paris, Je t'aime

Love is a many splendored thing.
Love brings us up where we belong.
I'll be loving you...always.
All clichés, I'm fully aware of that. But the facts of the matter all are correct. See love is a very complicated topic. Very. For every artist I've seen capture a glimpse of this elusive emotion, great many fail. I'm stuck thinking of Whoopi Goldberg as Gianaan on Star Trek: TNG. After ensign Crusher lost his first love, he informed her that he'll love again. He insisted he'll never feel that way again.
She says he will, for, "every time you feel love, it will be different."
So this emotion, this thing that everyone feels at some point in their loves--sometimes multiple times with multiple forms--is as imperative to our lives on earth as breathing or eating.
And as complex as quantum physics.
But why is it so difficult to capture in poetry, lyric or film?
Because, like Whoopi said, “every time you feel love, it will be different."
I might love this movie or that--you might not, but such is the nature of this beast called love.
I bring this up because love is the definitive theme of my most recent movie, Paris, Je t'aime. I know of not the reason why urban locales play to our romantic sensibilities. There's "I Love New York," there's "I Love L.A." There's something about a city like Paris that invokes concepts of love in all of us, culturally.
Which is surprising, considering how rude the French are supposedly.
However, playing on that theme, a few filmmakers got together and decided to make several very short films about this grande dame of a city. An interesting film festival, each movie is no longer than ten minutes about the concept of love, in some form or another plays out--even if it's familial love, sexual love or comedic love. It's there, and the format, apparently works.
I guess we all know some kind of love.
The format is particular good in this ADD world of ours. When we can be sold a 46,000 dollar car in less than 30 seconds in an auto ad, I think an audience has what it takes to understand these quick tintypes.
Several years ago, a move was created to rid the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences of the short film division. They were tiny films, all under 45 minutes, made by college film students. You could vote on them by attending special screenings. Many voters would not go for whatever reason. Many felt that these movies were too tiny to notice. Why drive all the way out to see a movie of someone who might not be worth it next week?
They obviously did not rid themselves of the division--why? Because some of the greatest filmmakers in Hollywood history has gotten their teeth cut on such short movies. Martin Scorese and Steven Speilberg come to mind. So it's great that the medium lives on--like Picasso having to go back to art school.
Paris has several incredible directors returning to their film school past and making a direct, short story movie.
The results are amazing. However, given this format in the first place--sometimes inconsistent. Some directors’ auteur sensibilities (Gus Van Sant, excellent at creating visual acuity of young, nubile men) shine through, but so do their faults (Alfonzo Cauron uses a long one shot to build tension of a man and woman speaking of a coming up meeting--but the payoff doesn't match the tension).
Because of this up and down of 18 short movies of love, it is difficult to say, this is good/this is bad. It does not work for a movie like this.
For myself? I found the lack of extravagance invigorating. The fact that these famous directors are willing to experiment further in their medium is terrific. Same with the performers. Because of so many, no one person's performance can be listed on the marquee. And since I love Paris already, I was good to go.
I am in love and have been in love before. I might not have agreed with what some of the artists were saying, but I could understand, merely by proxy. This is a wonderful little film (s) that I think should be seen by those, those who can understand the many facets of love, who would appreciate such an art.
I, for one, loved it.