Clouds of Sils Maria

Talky and layered, French auteur Olivier Assayas' Clouds of Sils Maria is the sort of intellectual exercise that people who view the movies as a vehicle of painless escape might dismiss as pretentious, given that it is set in a recognizable if rarefied reality. If most movies are like pop songs in that we anticipate their familiar beats and predictable rhymes, Clouds of Sils Maria is more like a piece of chamber music, precise and balanced as a Swiss watch. It's not loud, but if you listen you can become lost in its echoing motifs.

It is a superbly acted movie about an almost universal problem: how do we reconcile our belief in ourselves as creatures of potential with the realization we've become settled and defined? It grazes dozens of other intriguing questions about the nature of female friendship and competitiveness (Assayas gleefully subverts the familiar tropes of backstage melodrama), about the fool's gold of celebrity and the disruptive force of the Internet. Despite its glamorous settings and pretty people, Clouds of Sils Maria is a Trollopian movie about the way we live now.

Maria Enders (Juliette Binoche) is an actress who has reached the point in her career where she can play only icons and matrons, where she's transitioning into character roles. It was only 20 years before that she was an ingenue ushered into stardom by a genius playwright and filmmaker, Wilhelm Melchior, who cast her as a predatory young woman who becomes involved with an older woman in his film and play Maloja Snake.

Now Maria is on a train to Zurich, headed to accept a lifetime achievement award on Melchior's behalf. She's trying to write her speech honoring the old master, while her assistant Valentine (Kristen Stewart) juggles her schedules, trying to balance Maria's personal life -- she's trying to force the sale of the Paris apartment she owns with her soon-to-be ex-husband -- with her professional obligations.

We immediately understand that Valentine is essential to Maria. She serves as an all-purpose portal between the star and the rest of the universe. Valentine is Maria's Google and Wikipedia, her bodyguard and best friend, and even an extension of her conscience and taste. It is Valentine's duty to present Maria with options -- such as the chance to play a Mother Superior in a gory movie in which "there are werewolves involved for whatever reason" -- while insulating her from rougher realities.

Yet Valentine can't protect Maria from everything. While in transit, they get word that Melchior has died, which turns the celebratory tribute into a memorial. And another offer comes in, a chance to play the older woman in a new version of Maloja Snake, directed by a young director who has his own ideas on the play: he wants to cast a scandalous young actress (think Miley Cyrus crossed with, well, Kristen Stewart) named Jo-Ann Ellis (Chloe Grace Moretz) in the role Maria originated.

Maria is ambivalent about taking the role, but Valentine is enthusiastic. She's a Jo-Ann fan, seeing in the young star something vigorous and authentic. Where Maria is possessive of the role she has aged out of, Valentine sees the part as a chance to do something courageous and invigorating. She runs lines with Maria, flatly intoning while Maria kicks back sparks. (On one level, this is a master class in acting, as Stewart plays a nonactor gamely sparring with a pro -- when we start to think Val should be wearing headgear and a flak vest, we're really watching Stewart soar.)

Obviously there's a lot to unpack here. Assayas has set up a dynamic in which all three of the film's main actresses represent aspects of the "younger woman" in the play within the movie; Jo Ann's character has a lot in common with the real-life Kristen Stewart -- she's best known for a string of "horrible" vampire movies, she has been battered by tabloids and, at bottom, she's actually a pretty good actor. (I've been impressed by her work since 2007's The Cake Eaters.)

But that's just texture, really. Assayas has crafted a challenging and deeply engaging film that's remarkably beautiful and grounded in universal experience. Clouds of Sils Maria is a story that emerges from everyday conversation and conventions, a rich consideration of character and mortality that feels completely organic despite a rather formal structure. (The film moves from the train to Zurich and on to Melchior's home in Sils Maria, an area in the Swiss Alps known for the eerie cloud formations that provide the movie and the play/movie within the movie their titles. It ends up, in what's really an extended coda, in London.)

To be sure, Clouds of Sils Maria will feel like a foreign film to most audiences. And it is, although it's mostly conducted in English. (It was nominated for six French Cesar Awards and won three -- Binoche for Best Actress, Stewart for Best Supporting Actress, and Assayas for Best Screenplay.)

It's not perfect -- the final section in London feels at least overlong and possibly unnecessary, and there are a couple of speeches that feel over-expository, as though Assayas was at a loss at how to otherwise impart the necessary information. (And it's just a quibble, but the math is off -- Binoche is lovely, but she's at least 10 years older than her character would be.)

MovieStyle on 05/08/2015