Venice

The Intruder

L'Intrus (France)

By JAY WEISSBERG

An OGNON Pictures/ARTE France co-production, with the participation of the Centre National de la Cinematographie. (International sales: Pyramide Intl., Paris.) Produced by Humbert Balsan. Directed by Claire Denis. Screenplay, Denis, Jean Pol Fargeau.
 
With: Michel Subor, Gregoire Colin, Katia Golubeva, Bambou, Florence Loiret-Caille, Lolita Chammah, Beatrice Dalle, Alex Descas, Kim Dong-ho, Chang Se-tak, Park Hong-suk, Edwin Alin, Henri tetu Tetainanuarii, Jean-Marc Teriipaia, Anna Tetuaveroa.
(French, Russian, Korean, English and Tahitian dialogue.)
 

A fresh life with a new heart provides the starting point for Claire Denis' dense meditation on beginning again in "The Intruder." More opaque than her past works and unlikely to garner her new fans, Denis gives near equal weight to reality, dreams, nightmares and premonitions, resisting a traditional narrative in order to question the possibilities of escape within the modern world. A beautiful, complex work that challenges viewers to mentally sift interior and exterior journeys, pic has little hope outside specialized niche auds and DVD, though that's unfortunate as d.p. Agnes Godard's gorgeous lensing will lose scope on the small screen.

Denis' inspiration began with Jean-Luc Nancy's memoir of his heart transplant and what to do with a new lease on life; she then cast an eye on Robert Louis Stevenson's writings on the lure of the South Seas. She qualifies that siren call with a generous dose of Murnau's classic tragedy of Polynesia, "Tabu," in which an island paradise becomes irrevocably infected by modern life.

The intruder of the title, therefore, becomes more than just the new heart, as in Nancy's book: It does double duty as a description of the anti-hero in his chosen new world.

Returning to the Denis fold, Michel Subor plays Louis, a robust, mysterious loner living on the French-Swiss border. He displays the kind of tormented machismo that has long fascinated Denis, preferring his dogs to the occasional contact with his son (Gregoire Colin). Heart trouble forces him to leave his snow-covered wilderness to visit a bank vault in Geneva and withdraw enough cash to pay for a new heart on the black market.

Where the dough comes from is never explained. Following the operation he flies to Korea, where he discusses blueprints for a ship he wants built. He continues to Tahiti, where he searches for a son he fathered years before (shades of Marlon Brando) and moves into a hut just as heart trouble returns.

This basic skeleton is then fleshed out by deliberately subjective -- at times confusing -- visions blending past with future and hypothetical future. Words have always been of lesser importance to Denis, whose focus is on symbols and visual metaphors juxtaposed to maximize inner emotional conflict.

As an impressionistic director, she favors strong characters who exude complicated personalities without the need to offer up an ABC of their lives. Here she casts two of her muses, the swaggering Beatrice Dalle, and Subor, again limning an anti-hero of tremendous complexity.

Godard's camera work, with her eye for ravishing colors, can always be depended on for glorious, thoughtful images. As usual with Denis, the music is a perfect complement.

Camera (color, Cinemascope), Agnes Godard; editor, Nelly Quettier; music, S.A. Staples; production designer, Arnaud de Moleron; costume designer, Judy Shrewsbury; sound (Dolby Digital), Jean-Louis Ughetto; sound designer, Christophe Winding; assistant director, Jean-Paul Allegre. Reviewed at Venice Film Festival (competing), Sept. 9, 2004. (Also in Toronto Film Festival -- Visions.) Running time: 129 MIN.