Word: annaud
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...director Jean-Jacques Annaud does deprive the audience of emotional stimulation of any kind, whether from cinematography or character development, until Harrer reaches Tibet. In one tense mountain-climbing scene in the Himalayas (or "Himilias," as Pitt refers to them), we see no panorama and remarkably little scenery in frame. Annaud keeps only the climbers in shot, and instead of majestic mountainscapes, only the snow and gray, gravely rock for a backdrop...
When one of the climbers falls and hangs for his life by a rope, Annaud seems determined not to cash in on the moment's cliffhanger potential. There's no music to augment the tension, no exciting swooping pans--only matter-of-fact, straight-on shots of the climbers on both ends of the rope, accompanied by the sounds of scraping and strained breathing. Later, too, as the action proceeds through unavoidably beautiful terrain, Pitt and other characters are shown on uninspiring rocky stretches or in close-quartered caves, tents and villages...
...family and domestic associations. Pitt's gruff, distracted and distant demeanor, his clipped and uncompassionate manner, is convincing he is by no means likable. In fact, as the audience does not identify or sympathize with him on his pre-Tibet misadventures, the movie's first half seems aimless, and Annaud dangerously skirts the edge of alienating the audience by depriving them of something to latch onto...
...Annaud doesn't hit you over the head with anything, but he now allows prolonged glimpses of the beautiful Tibetan landscape, and almost on a dime, Pitt is inspired to treat people with some respect. Once Harrer reaches the city of Lhasa, the screen explodes with color as the Tibetan customs, artwork and religious traditions are presented. The stimulus-starved audience gains new focus immediately on a suddenly human Harrer and his attempt to assimilate to his new surroundings...
Perhaps that mirror is blurred by tropical humidity and nostalgie de la boue. Whatever the reason, the French view of Southeast Asia is less wide- and wild-eyed than Oliver Stone's version in Platoon and Born on the Fourth of July. The perspective in Jean-Jacques Annaud's The Lover is as cloistered in its 1920s Saigon love nest as the French were from awareness of the impending revolution. Pierre Schoendoerffer's Dien Bien Phu (yet to open in the U.S.) meticulously restages the climactic French defeat as if it were all about artillery and not national destinies...