Film: Death of a tail man

The Barbarian Invasions charts the demise of a randy academic

By Robert Chancey

Intellectuals do not merely die; their ideas are washed away by the encroaching tide of mediocrity. Canadian writer-director Denys Arcand understands this and has toiled in the shadow of this dilemma.

More than 10 years ago, Arcand made two masterful films that were embraced and revered by the 1 percent of the filmgoing population that actually savors subtitles. Those two movies--1986's The Decline of the American Empire and 1989's Jesus of Montreal--were uproariously funny and painfully serious films about the profanity of the soul and the divinity of the flesh.

Like his role model, Czech novelist Milan Kundera, Arcand blended a sensual roundelay with profound ideas about the problematic mingling of men and women and the uncomfortable marriage of the body and the soul. Audiences and critics both howled at his witty, erudite dialogue and wept at the tragic conclusions--these were comedies enamored with sex but betrothed to death.

Unfortunately, like Kundera, Arcand enjoyed a brief moment of international acclaim but failed to capitalize on his insurgent celebrity. He made one disappointing English language film--1995's Love and Human Remains--and his two gems were forsaken by the digital revolution.

Thankfully, Arcand's talents are being rediscovered. Jesus of Montreal has been released on DVD (in French only, sans subtitles; the English translation is available only on the VHS version), and his sequel to Decline, The Barbarian Invasions, has been greeted with glee by people who barely remember or are unfamiliar with the director's previous work.

The acclaim is justified. Though not a cerebral masterpiece, Barbarian Invasions is a sophisticated and poignant film about the death of the shameless Lothario, Rémy (Rémy Girard), and his uncertain reconciliation with those damaged by his impulsive carnality. Witty and dramatically satisfying, it simply lacks the bawdy monologues and the compulsion to court matrimonial danger of its 17-year-old predecessor.

The first major film to employ the horrific events of 9/11 as subtext, Barbarian Invasions takes its title from the words of a Canadian historian seen on television: The zealous hordes actually breached the borders of the American Empire on that fateful day. Were this the sole reason for Arcand's discourse on unwelcome mortality, the film would be a cheap, histrionic rant about the trivial intrusion of a cruel destiny.

But Arcand's title and screenplay are pregnant with meaning--the film is rife with unexpected arrivals and unwanted confrontations. Rémy's once-fertile mind is overtaken by an inoperable tumor (an apt, toxic metaphor for the demise of intelligence in a post-literate world), and his life is overrun by intimates who have become strangers: his ex-wife Louise (Dorothée Berryman), his prodigal son Sébastien (Stéphane Rousseau) and his former colleagues Dominique (Dominique Michel), Pierre (Pierre Curzi), Claude (Yves Jacques) and Diane (Louise Portal).

Dismayed by Rémy's terminal diagnosis, these combatants and allies gather at the same lakeside cottage where their lives careened out of control 17 years before. It was there that Louise discovered Rémy's innumerable infidelities and it has now become a purgatorial palace of recollection and atonement. Rémy must bid his family farewell, hope that his unpardonable transgressions can be forgiven and all his loved ones must celebrate a vigorous life eclipsed by the haughty specter of the unknown.

Not surprisingly, the conclusion will inspire tears, but also a sprinkling of hope. As in Arcand's earlier films, life refuses to obey the confines of a dramatic arc--humanity will persevere because the world has not ground to a halt. Death's quiet grimace may silence the orgasmic howl of an epicurean voluptuary, but his friends and family will keep his memory alive. And remembering may be the most defiant act of our species--it denies the allure of despair and it allows us to retrieve and reanimate the people and places we cherish.