cumundun

COME UNDONE
2000 - France - 97 min. - Feature, Color
AKA - Presque Rien (Original Foreign title)
Director - Sebastien Lifshitz
Studio - MGM Home Entertainment

Genre/Type Drama, Coming-of-Age, Gay & Lesbian Films, Romantic Drama
Flags Adult Situations, Nudity, Sexual Situations, Not For Children
Keywords depression, homosexual, mother, sister, suicide-attempt, sexual-identity
Themes First Love, Vacation Romances
Tones Bittersweet, Reflective, Understated, Compassionate, Enigmatic, Intimate, Meditative
Color type Telcipro color
Sound by Dolby Digital
Produced by ARTE France Cinema / Lancelot Films / Man's Films / Radio Television Belge Francofone
Release Jun 7, 2000 (France) / Jun 29, 2001 (USA - Limited)
Released by Picture This! Entertainment
DVD Street Date Jan 8, 2002
Languages French
Subtitles English
Screen Formats Letterbox for TV
Sound Dolby Digital 5.1
Studio Picture This! Home Video
DVD Sides 1

Cast

J�r�mie Elka�m - Mathieu
Stephane Rideau - Cedric
Marie Matheron - Annick
Dominique Reymond - Mother
Laetitia Legrix - Sarah
Rejane Kerdaffrec - Psychiatrist

Plot Synopsis

The third collaboration between screenwriter Stephane Bouquet and writer/director Sebastien Lifshitz, Presque Rien is the story of a young French man coming to terms with his mother's depression, and his own homosexuality, during a summer holiday in France. Delicately handsome Mathieu (Jeremie Elkaim) has come to a seaside resort town with his sisters Annick (Marie Matheron) and Sarah (Laetitia Legrix) and his mother (Dominique Reymond), who has suffered from a crippling depression ever since her newborn baby died of cancer. One day while sunning himself on the beach with Sarah, Mathieu notices the attentions of Cedric (Stephane Rideau), a sturdy, handsome, slightly older youth. The two quickly develop an illicit romance, spending their days combing the beach and their evenings slipping off for passionate sex. Cedric, it turns out, has dropped out of school and, after a brief stint as a rent boy and a failed relationship with a boy named Pierre (Nils Ohlund), moved over one town and settled into a comfortable routine of blue-collar work. The sturdy, good-natured Cedric charms Mathieu's family, but the true nature of the youths' relationship soon becomes apparent, leading to conflict, especially with oldest sibling Annick. Mathieu's biggest problem, however, is his sense of powerlessness over his mother's illness and the death in the family. The scenes of his romance with Cedric are interspersed with scenes from two later time periods. In one setting, we witness Mathieu's recovery from a suicide attempt and subsequent refusal to accept Cedric's visits; in another, we see Mathieu return, alone, to the site of his sexual coming of age. Presque Rien received its American release under the title Come Undone; after premiering at the 2001 L.A. Outfest, a gay and lesbian film series, it received a limited art-house release. Rejane Kerdaffrec, who previously appeared in the Lifschitz/Bouquet film Les Corps Ouverts, appears in a small role as Mathieu's psychiatrist. � Brian J. Dillard

Reviews

Brian J. Dillard, AMG

The gay coming-of-age story seems to have an unshakable hold on the imaginations of novelists and filmmakers the world over, but this picturesque French effort doesn't add too much to the already well-defined genre except a mood of sun-dappled sensuality, a dose of inarticulate angst, and a formal playfulness that isn't as well-executed as it could be. The film's script, by director Sebastien Lifschitz and his writing partner Stephane Bouquet, attempts to mirror protagonist Mathieu's sexual and emotional confusion by leaving important plot points implied but not shown. The editing, by Yann Dedet, also jumps around indiscriminately in time, further jumbling the emotional development of the protagonists. These experimental efforts are admirable, but the results may leave audience members scratching their heads instead of honing in on the characters' inner lives. That said, Jeremie Elkaim brings an almost aristocratic self-possession to the role of the emotionally walled-off Mathieu, while Stephane Rideau � an up-and-coming alt-French sex symbol � imbues Cedric with an unself-conscious masculinity and a playful sense of self-deprecation that are as disarming as they are rare in this genre. One particularly effective torrid beachside love scene between the young men subverts stereotypes about active and passive gay sexual roles; in fact, the unself-consciousness with which these characters jump into bed � and love � with one another is refreshing given the politically correct hand wringing of many such films. Too often, however, the emotional drama of Presque Rien seems like a mere backdrop to the endless scenes of Mathieu and Cedric half-naked. Lifschitz and cinematographer Pascal Poucet know how to frame both landscapes and lithe young bodies beautifully, but ultimately the elliptical plot and beefcake trappings sabotage the film's emotional authority. Partially a sexy postcard book, partially an excavation of brooding adolescent fervor, Presque Rien dazzles the eyes even while it frustrates the mind.

Jodi Paper
Of The Examiner Staff

There's a certain, I don't know, je ne sais quoi to summer love stories. Despite San Francisco's foggy efforts to completely cancel summer (as I, a former East Coaster, once knew it), summery romantic films often save me from being completely left in the cold during these months. The summer romance, "Come Undone (Presque Rien)," by Sebastien Lifshitz, only left me in the dark, unable to make heads or tails of it.

    Mathieu is an 18-year-old boy spending his summer at his mother's home in Brittany. His father is absent. His mother is not well. His sister, Sarah, is spiteful. And no one can seem to get along with his mother's companion, Annick. Mathieu's summer has all the potential of, well, a wet mop.

    Enter Cedric, another 18-year-old, and a darn good-looking one at that. Their eyes meet, then Mathieu the first to shyly look away. But Cedric holds his gaze. And the rest, as they say...

    The story of Mathieu and his first homosexual love is intriguing. The excitement and confusion he feels at this discovery about himself create a beautiful, though inconsistent, wonderment that plays throughout most of the film.

    Unfortunately, part of that wonderment lies in the time structure of the movie. It just plain doesn't make sense. The use of flashbacks can be a tricky business. Luckily, the characters sport different hairstyles to help us differentiate between the various time periods, but these physical changes can only go so far as clues.

    After it becomes clear we are in a flashback -- or flash-forward -- it's still almost impossible to make sense of the story. One minute, Mathieu is on a train talking into a tape recorder a la Felicity. The next he is on the beach with his sister. Again, back on the train. Then in the hospital. It becomes a type of game, really. A logic puzzle of sorts... with no clear solution.

    Despite the incongruity in the structure of "Come Undone," after the first 30 minutes I couldn't take my eyes away from the screen. The story is heartfelt, as Mathieu both struggles and embraces the changes within and around him. But at the same time, I couldn't keep myself from checking my watch as my impatience with incoherent nature of the film grew.

    These days, a film that requires us to use our brains is a rare occurrence, and "Come Undone" is certainly thought-provoking. But it presents the viewer with numerous paths that have no destinations. We take the bait and get caught on a hook with no line, our heads as foggy as summertime in San Francisco.