‘A Ghost Story,’ ‘Lost in Paris’
‘A Ghost Story’
★★★
Cast: Rooney Mara, Casey Affleck, Will Oldham (R), 1:27 Though inspired by Peter Straub’s 1979 horror novel “Ghost Story” — the latest movie from writer-director David Lowery (“Pete’s Dragon”) — isn’t a horror film exactly, unless you count the horror of solitude. As spare and precise in its effects as Straub’s novel was lurid and extravagant, it opens in domestic contentment, and proceeds to tell a wrenching story of love and loss that pries open a window onto eternity. Much of the story unfolds in the rural Texas home of a young unidentified couple, invested with warmth and sensitivity by Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara. One night the couple’s slumber is disturbed by the banging of keys on the piano in their living room, though a subsequent search reveals no sign of an intruder. Still, despite the reassuring tenderness of the scene that follows — a nearly five-minute shot of husband and wife back in bed, wrapped in a sleepy embrace — something vaguely sinister lingers. Within moments of that scene the man is dead, killed in an off-screen car accident — which gets an absurdist spin when he returns as a silent, slow-moving figure wearing a thick white sheet with two small eye-holes, a conceit that plays here as both disarming and briefly amusing. Ultimately, though, “A Ghost Story” is too idiosyncratic to seem anything but sincere. We follow this costume-shop apparition as he roams the grounds of his old home, bearing solemn witness to his partner’s sorrow. Although separated by death, husband and wife remain united by the extremity of their anguish. But before long the woman leaves, and her husband is forced to look on helplessly as she is replaced by a steady stream of new occupants in the house. Lowery seems less interested in exploiting the trappings of horror than using them to heighten his characters’ isolation. The house’s new occupants — including a party guest (Will Oldham), whose soliloquy accounts for nearly half the movie’s dialogue — remind us that we are all, in the end, just passing through. The astonishing narrative free-fall of the third act is best left for the viewer to discover. Suffice to say that time turns weirdly elastic. These scenes are a warning to look closer and listen carefully to the deeper meaning of moments that might otherwise seem insignificant. — Justin Chang, Los Angeles Times
‘Lost in Paris’
★★
Cast: Dominique Abel, Fiona Gordon, Emmanuelle Riva, (Unrated) 1:23 In this film about eccentrics running around the City of Lights, it’s only a matter of time until someone falls into the Seine. That someone turns out to be Canadian tourist Fiona (Fiona Gordon), who asks a runner to take her photo. As she smiles and jogs in place while he shoots, gravity does the rest. What stays with you isn’t just the precision of the acrobatics; it’s the sympathetic expression on the face of the runner, who dashes after her even as she’s swept downriver. Mishaps may be this movie’s raison d’être, but they are softened at every turn by the humanity of the city’s inhabitants. Everything does turn out fine, and so does “Lost in Paris,” the fourth feature showcase for the Brusselsbased husband-and-wife burlesque performers Gordon and Dominique Abel. Their latest is a brightly hued, cleverly orchestrated bit of nonsense that begins in a snowy Canadian hamlet where Fiona, a librarian, receives a letter from her aunt Martha (Emmanuelle Riva), who moved to Paris long ago. Now 88, Martha asks Fiona to come for a visit her to keep her from being packed off to a retirement home. Within hours of her arrival, Fiona has taken that tumble into the Seine and lost her bag and her passport, which wind up in the hands of Dom (Abel), a homeless drifter. Dom and Fiona turn out to be improbable soul mates from the moment Dom whisks her out of her seat at a dance and twirls her around the floor. Though rife with pratfalls, nearmisses, crazy coincidences and mistaken identities, “Lost in Paris” is a whirligig contraption that delivers a soothing dose of whimsy and a fond farewell to Riva, who died earlier this year. — Justin Chang, Los Angeles Times