rowmorg Benoit Jacquot helped to make a star out of Huppert, so that he had no trouble raising the funds for this utter turkey. Huppert's character (who has several names) acts as if, in the words of her lady friend in Sardinia (or wherever it is), she is on another planet. She seems repelled by the idea of heterosexual activity, and director Jacquot fails to depict an apparent lesbian love affair either. She's not interested in almost anything except the very big view from her shack on top of a mountain. The rest of the film is about her stripping herself of everything only to meet her long-lost father, who is interestingly depicted by Peter Arens. He suggests an entirely different route this movie could have taken, with interesting characters and a lively story, instead of the opposite. Huppert depicts a musician (classical piano) who makes frightful modernistic screechings (apparently composed and played by Huppert herself). We can only congratulate her for giving up her concert career, including the pretence that she is playing from musical notation. This picture essentially depicts an everyday fantasy: escaping from it all. And this is where it leads, to a purposeless, futile movie that wastes everyone's time. Don't bother with it.

writers_reign Apart from the fact that she is light years the better actor of the two Isabelle Huppert is in some ways the French Michael Caine in that neither appears capable of turning down any film offered to them no matter how unsuitable, mediocre, or down-and-out rubbish it actually is. As a result both actors have more dross than gold on their CVs although again Huppert has much more gold than Caine, who has arguably more dross on his own CV than any actor alive or dead with the possible exception of Alan Lake and Maxwell Reed. This time around Huppert is playing a certified ding-dong, a woman so out of touch with reality and real life that all it takes is the witnessing of one kiss - not foreplay, not heavy petting, merely a kiss - to make her decide there and then to abandon everything she has achieved in life, career, home, relationship, and get as far away from her life so far as she can. Huppert is, of course, a sublime actress and I for one am prepared to watch her in anything - I said 'prepared' rather than 'happy' advisedly. Villa Amalia is like a Rohmer movie in which we not only WATCH paint drying but THINK about watching paint dry. Any viewer who was frightened as a child by logic will suffer acute distress when, having wound up in Ischia more by luck than judgment and with only one person knowing her whereabouts, the father who abandoned her forty years before turns up out of the blue and immediately recognizes someone he saw last when she was barely more than an infant. This is only one example of the directors' contempt for the audience. Huppert is in every single scene and that's about the only positive thing we take away with us.

Siamois I was looking forward to seeing this story of a woman escaping her former life and creating a new one as it sounded brilliant and filled with potential, especially with Isabelle Huppert playing the lead role of Ann.Unfortunately, almost everything that could go wrong with the movie does. Let's start with the direction, which is self-indulgent and completely ineffective. There is some good cinematography here, but absolutely no purpose behind it. The use of music is inelegant, clashing with the scenes. We jump from one scene to the other with no sense of pacing or of a bigger picture, much like a bad artsy flick from the 70s. Isabelle Huppert, usually a solid actress, barely attempts to instill any emotion and seems content to go through the motions. The worse performance I have seen of her. Every other actor that appears in Villa Amalia is even worse, with the exception of Jean-Hughes Anglade, who breathes some life to Georges. Alas, the script doesn't give much to work with and with such poor direction, even Anglade is forgettable. The story absolutely goes nowhere, the dialogues appear more like rambling, even if we sense there is a point to it. Ann is replicating patterns of abandonment she herself suffered from her father, who felt the same need for detachment she now feels. But the screenplay is terribly inelegant when trying to drive that point. The movie's ending is much like its beginning; messy and pointless

incitatus-org One lonely night, Ann (Isabelle Huppert) follows Thomas to the house of another woman. She sees them passionately kiss on the doorstep before they go in. Ann is left standing outside, half hidden behind a tree in the front garden in a residential suburb of Paris. It all looks so homely and yet it is not hers. She knows she has to leave Thomas. And she realises it is perhaps time to leave everything. Thomas. Her home. Her career as a concert pianist. Her mother. Just leave.The tortured character of Ann, from Pascal Quignard's novel, is one who wants to run, to disappear rather than fight and rebuild. As we watch her erase the traces of her Parisian life with Thomas, we wonder who this woman is. She is so selfish, cruel and harsh. We wonder what her relationship with Thomas could have looked like. There is clearly not much left of their love, if they ever shared it, which is perhaps what pushed him to the other woman in the first place. Their own house is cold as if there was never any warmth or love there. By the time we meet her old mother in Brittany, we can suspect that she might just be condemned to unhappiness if she does not take some radical action. But is running the solution?We never really understand why she needs to erase all traces of her existence. Who does she think she needs to go into hiding for? Surely not for Thomas, I think he got the message when he was dumped. But then who? Her mother? She is no state to phone someone, let alone come searching for her. It can only be from one person - herself. By disappearing from the official radar, she expects to feel liberated. Liberated from a life she had grown into, because of herself, her parents and her brother's death. Freed from the feelings she held, the habits she had and the pressure of others.But when she discards her old skin and finds a breath-taking little corner of the world in which to retreat, traces of her old life remain. Music still calms her temperament, even if her preference goes out to a sharp estranging piano repertoire. And where first she used to swim madly to rinse herself of her life, once fled, she almost rinses herself out of existence to be reborn. She always had the tools she required to save herself, but they had never really served her. Fundamentally, she is a tragic character, throwing doubt even on her efforts.There is something of a farce in the whole reinvention process as it is portrayed. As she runs, taking trains, buses and boats through changing landscapes and switching clothes, we find ourselves in an escape presented as a thriller. But we know that is not the case, creating a friction between the tense music and imagery and the reality of the story. This is a weakness which does not do the story justice. With an actress as beautiful and as talented as Isabelle Huppert, she could have carried the movie on images alone. Expect to be somewhat depressed by the whole adventure, but also touched by voyage. For, besides the very first scene, seeing Thomas on that suburban doorstep kissing another, all the rest could have just played in her head. As one big daydream, a fantasy of running, of another life. Far away. It is a beautiful movie, for that, and a depressing one, for that. It is one of those movies which is perhaps best watched alone. But you will need a big screen...