Film Of The Week The Wild Pear Tree
When important filmmakers write novels, the results don’t necessarily set the world alight—ask David Cronenberg or Paolo Sorrentino. A surer approach, for any director with the ambition, is to write novels purely for the screen, using the language of film; and while the idea of a “novelistic” film might be unfashionable, such attempts open to the charge of being literary rather than properly cinematic, some succeed beautifully. My favorite cine-novel in Cannes this year, although it was a work of lightness rather than necessarily depth, was Christophe Honoré’s blithe, tender Sorry Angel; my least favorite, a work of lugubrious pomposity and prolixity, mundanely morbid under the guise of satanic provocation, was Lars von Trier’s The House That Jack Built, an edifice creaking under the weight of its self-conscious metaphoric architecture....