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Swimming Pool
Francois Ozon's Swimming Pool, a haunting new erotic thriller, tells the story of a successful but frustrated pulp novelist, liberated through a vicarious attachment to a sensual and mysterious younger woman. It's a tantalizing film that draws you in to its eerie world with a subtle series of small surprises that manage to create a film of real depth and character, with something maybe even profound up its sleeve about unlocking the sparks that fuel art and ignite the dark sides of passion.
Sarah Morton (Charlotte Rampling) is a popular British mystery novelist who fears her creativity has dried up. Bored with London and acting on a tip from her editor (Charles Dance), she accepts his offer to get away to his empty home in the South of France. There's no one else to distract her, and she finds the lazy summer pace and casual French seaside to be just the antidote. The unexpected arrival of his sexually promiscuous, lazy and invasive daughter Julie (Ludivine Sagnier) is an initial irritation and subsequently a catalyst for Sarah's pent-up creative process. The two women develop an unsettling bond that leads to possible murder and surprising, unforseen revelations.
When measured against the best of the Ozon cannon, Swimming Pool comes up a bit shallow, particularly juxtaposed against the sublime Under the Sand, which also starred the aging-glam Rampling as a woman unwilling to accept her husband's mysterious disappearance and probable death.
And if Swimming Pool doesn't quite reach the depths of that near-masterpiece, it does prove an elegant and mysterious vehicle for its two actresses, who enjoyably languish in Ozon's signature seaside, summer idyll infused with uncomfortable eroticism and danger. There's no one like Ozon when it comes to creating a mood of near-sinister sun-baked unease, and both of the women work the mystery for all it's worth.
Initially repelled by each other, Sarah and Julie are gradually drawn closer to each other through a series of sexual and emotional one-ups, and part of the fun in Swimming Pool lies in just how much sincerity the two women actually have for each other, and how much is forced goodwill harboring ulterior, darker motives.
One of Ozon's great strengths here is the poker-faced ability to keep the meaning of the entire story away from us until the film's final two scenes. Swimming Pool is one of those exciting film experiences where we think we've seen a perfectly capable thriller - and then we realize the story's true meaning has been right before our eyes the whole time, in a place where we didn't think to look. There are provocative and original surprises at work here, and though they initially may not feel like much in the age of high-concept, Hollywood triple-reverse endings, they deepen the story and suggest rich dimensions to both characters we didn't quite see at first glance.
The titular swimming pool is a foreboding enigma, which provides a rather obvious metaphor, as the lascivious Julie immerses herself beneath its spell, opening a wellspring of creativity in bottled-up Sarah. It's an effective prop that figures in much of the film's liberated second act, a cork that springs open, letting forth a flood of sensuality and violence. This is never more effective than in a late scene where Sarah nearly goes off the deep end at the suspicion of just what might lie beneath the pool's ragged cover. Ozon ratchets up the tension in that scene, and by the time a discovery is made, it's nearly unbearable.
Ultimately, the movie is a showcase for two actresses working together in peak form. Fifty-eight-year-old Charlotte Rampling, effectively understated and initially suggesting a pallid, empty soul, shows off considerable and alternate reserves of strength, emptiness and later, manipulation. She pulls off a seduction, late in the film, with aplomb, revealing a nude, perfect body for which most women (of any age) would sell their soul. She's a near-regal presence here, the kind of actress who shows up, looks at the camera and automatically suggests depth and life experience. It's obvious why Ozon loves her - in both Swimming Pool and Under the Sand, she's the perfect minimalist muse for his deliberate psychological obscurity and heady, cool eroticism.
And now to Ludivine Sagnier, a remarkably comfortable young actress who seems perfectly at home as a de-glamorized tomboy (Ozon's 8 Women), a wet-behind-the-ears, sweet young adult (My Wife is an Actress) or a titillating teenaged dream (Ozon's Water Drops on Burning Rocks and Swimming Pool). She's worked with Ozon more than any other actor, primarily in his more comedic work, the antithesis to the types of projects Rampling and Ozon are known for. And so the merging of these two women is fascinating from a narrative as well as cinematic perspective.
Rampling, by virtue of age and gravitas, is deeper, darker, reserved. Sagnier is lighter, buoyant, reckless. They will change places by the end of the film, and the process is immensely gratifying, as they dance around each other, observe, test each other's waters, snoop through each other's personal effects, and almost - but not quite - become confidantes, on the way to something stranger.
There's a more than daring quality to the acting here, notably Ms. Sagnier, in her physical abandon and fresh emotional openness. With her extensive full nudity, explicitly sensual demeanor and ability to suggest the striking fractured psychology of a grown-up whore/frightened little girl, she confidently dives into risky territory that would never, ever be charted by a young American actress on the same career track. Never. For much of the film she serves as a teasing physical presence, but later she emerges from the broadness of that description to deliver a detailed scene of a nervous breakdown that's as raw as any sexual moment we've seen in the film thus far.
Watching her brimming over with what can only be described as appropriately overheated dark sensuality, I was reminded of several recent European performances that sit in the same category, including Stephane Rideau in Sebastian Lifshitz's Come Undone, Monica Bellucci and Vincent Cassell in Gaspar Noe's Irreversible, and Isabelle Huppert in Michael Haeneke's The Piano Teacher. These fearless actors and their respective directors exist in a realm far removed from their career and business-minded American counterparts, and the world of contemporary European cinema must be thankful.
I know I am.
100 Minutes
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In English and French
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Not Rated
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Nudity, strong sexuality, violence, profanity
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