Losing More Ozon?

There's nothing worse than falling in love with something/someone only to find you're increasingly disappointed with each subsequent encounter. You know what the potential is, but nothing equals those first few encounters. And even though he's not yet 40, you start to wonder if he's lost "it." Whatever it was that first captured you in the oh so recent past.

No, I'm not talking about Saturday night but last night and watching François Ozon's Le Temps qui reste. One might think he'd be the perfect person to present the story of a cranky gay Frenchman in his early 30s with little respect for himself, friends or family. I was all ready for the nastiness of, say, Fox and His Friends. After initially being called "the French Fassbinder," he proved to be his own rising star, and I watched each of his early to mid-films with increasing glee with it peaking with Swimming Pool. I even enjoyed 8 Femmes. (Quick, name how many other actresses other then Deneuve have starreed in musicals with Gene Kelly, Bjork and Fanny Ardant).

2 x 5 was tolerable, but he just seems to be getting blander and less and less engaging. The only engaging thing in Le Temps qui reste Jeanne Morreau, but then she'd be engaging if she were to do a cameo in Men in Black XXII, God forbid it's ever made. Tantalizing as the news of him reuniting with Charlotte Rampling in Angel, reviews to date suggest this English-language outing is a huge misstep.

Alas, François, I've not given up on you yet, but perhaps cranking out a film or more a year is not a good idea. Fassbinder managed to do it, but look at how he ended up. If you'd like to take a few months off, you're welcome to come stay with me for a while.