Tragedy evolves slowly

Press, 27 February 1989, Page 4

Tragedy evolves slowly

at the cinema

hans petrovic

MANON OF THE SPRING Directed by Claude Berri Screenplay by Claude Berri and Gerard Brach “Manon of the Spring” (Regent), the eagerly awaited sequel to that wonderful French tragedy, “Jean de Florette,” satisfyingly ties together all the loose ends and metes out justice where it is due.

Although both films are complete in themselves, there will be few people who saw the first part that will not be waiting to see “Manon” — if only because revenge can be so sweet.

For those who have not yet seen the first part, a brief recapitulation may be necessary: Jean de Florette is a kind and naive, almost saintly, man who brings his wife and young daughter from the city to a farm he has inherited in Provence, southern France.

Papet (Yves Montand) is an ageing, wealthy neighbour who covets Jean’s farm because it contains a spring. With his simpleton nephew, Ugolin (Daniel Auteuil), he contrives to make life as difficult as possible for Jean, including blocking the spring.

Through one dreadful summer of drought, Jean labours to cultivate his rundown farm, while Papet and Ugolin wait for him to fail. Jean is finally killed in an explosion while searching for

underground water. After Jean’s death, it is his daughter, Manon, who sees the evil neighbours unblock the spring on the land they have now bought from the bereaved widow.

“Manon of the Spring” takes up the story 10 years later, with the daughter having grown into a beautiful young girl, who lives a feral life as a goatherd in the same vicinity. Although her mother has gone back to the city, she chooses to stay, biding her time to avenge her father’s death. Following the format of Greek tragedy, like “the city which was struck by plague for crimes committed by its king,” the water supply runs out for the local village — and that is only the beginning of misfortunes.

The tragedy evolves at its own, earthy, slow pace, reflecting the rustic attitudes and lifestyle of the local people, while Manon (Emmanuelle Beart) watches through her beautiful, knowing eyes. There are many ironic twists, contrived yet completely satisfying.

As in the first part, the rural way of life of early this century is captured beautifully, set in the rugged countryside which does not easily forgive indiscretions.

The performances by Montand, as the formidable and scheming patriarch, and Auteuil as the cunning co-conspirator, are as finely etched as in the first part; while Beart adds a striking presence as the avenging angel.

Montand sums up Claude Bern’s adaptation of Marcel Pagnol’s novel: “The dialogue is so rich, with the kinds of sentences that you can taste because it’s so close to the truth, so far from artifice. This film shows the grandeur of France, but the real France, not the pretentious, self-satisfied one.” For those who have not yet seen “Jean de Florette,” it is screening daily at 5.45 p.m., while “Manon of the Spring” can be seen at 2.15 and 8.15 p.m. RITA, SUE AND 808 TOO Directed by Alan Clark Screenplay by Angela Dunbar “Rita, Sue and Bob Too” (Metro) presents an incredible mixture of raunchy sex and social comedy in the drab world of limited expectations on a Northern England council estate.

Demoralised living on the dole, with only alcohol, sex and racism as diversions from a future-

less existence is the order of the day, yet even here, two likely lasses manage to bounce from one depressing escapade to another with rude, but unquenchable, vivacity. Rita and Sue (Siobhan Finneran and Michelle Holmes) are two schoolgirls, almost at leaving age, who babysit for a couple with marital problems. The action starts when the husband, Bob (George Costigan), takes them for a drive on the moors one night in his flash car — and then hardly lets up for the rest of the film.

Rarely have I seen the randy theme of a film set so early and explicitly as in “Rita, Sue and Bob Too,” as Bob takes his pleasure- with the two girls in turn, while the other waits outside the car making caustic comments.

The film keeps up this shamelessly entertaining spectacle throughout, throwing to the wind any bourgeois ideas of decorum or shame.

What is amazing is that in spite of its vulgarity, “Rita, Sue and Bob Too” is never offensivie, presenting the girls’ behaviour within the context of their social milieu, thereby making acceptable flagrantly scandalous carryings-on that could only be condemned in any other setting. Helping achieve this are the two astonishingly believable performances by Finnernan and

Holmes, who look as though they must have been discovered in a condemned council flat. The director, Alan Clark, uses a flat, almost documentary, style to depict the social decay, sterility and hopelessness of the depressed industrial north, yet manages to inject the funny side of what is essentially a sad story. The writer, Andrea Dunbar, based the film’s situation on first-hand experience, which she had already turned into two successful plays. Today aged 26, Dunbar still lives in the Bradford estate where the film was made, in a flat without a telephone, and using the local pub as her office. “This is life, the facts are there. The guardians of morals can stand back and gasp, but these things go on — maybe not in their circles, but certainly in mine,” Dunbar says. If you are shocked by the film, it should not be by the licentiousness of the main characters, but by the conditions they live under. A world where every male seems emasculated by hopelessness and alcohol, and a callow fool like Bob, with his nice suit and car, seems like a knight in shining armour. The girls just want to get out, and use any means they can find to achieve their release.

Sexy, sad and funny, “Rita, Sue and Bob Too,” is not to be seen as a light-porn film, but as a disturbing commentary on life in Britain today.