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Crappy film

A Major Disappointment

This movie was so-so. It had it's moments, but wasn't the greatest.

Story: It's very simple but honestly that is fine.

This film seems to be a litmus test of some kind. The majority of viewers, both prof. critics and laypeople, don't like. But a sizable minority, like me, are ga-ga over it. I find it funnier and more intelligent each time I watch it. I liked it the first, but it has gotten better each of the four times I have watched it since. Juliette Binoche is an absolute revelation as an actress. Watch her facial expressions change instantly as she responds to other people. She is marvelous. There is an incredibly funny dialogue between her and her French friend who lives in US, played by an actress, also very good, whose last name, i believe, is Buttle. Many of the commentators seem to believe that this dialogue shows the two women to be stupid, but I disagree. What the whole film slyly hints at is the stupidity of conventional, sectarian, ideologically driven psychoanalysis. These women, in their innocence of ideology, see thru the veil. As does Beatrice in her role as makeshift therapist. What makes her a wonderful therapist is her RESPONSIVENESS, as indicated above, to what is happening in the moment with each patient as an individual. Unhampered by rigid doctrine, she gives each what they need, not a load of ideology. I would love to see the actual script, but haven't been able to find it.

In Couch in New York, the first American film by acclaimed Belgian director Chantal Akerman, Dr. Henry Harriston (William Hurt) is a dour New York psychoanalyst who is close to exhaustion. He decides to place an ad in the Paris Herald Tribune offering to swap his New York apartment for a month. Henry ends up in the digs of a free-spirited dancer from Paris, Beatrice Saulnier (Juliet Binoche) and she takes over his swank New York penthouse. Obviously well to do, Henry's apartment is spacious, impeccably furnished, and meticulously cared for, while hers is messy, bohemian, and funky. In what Ms. Akerman describes as "what Hollywood calls a double fish out of water film", this film is something of a curiosity yet it's one of the best screwball romantic comedies I've seen. The premise is totally ludicrous of course and off the wall but that's what makes it so special. Of course, I'm particularly open to films that pop the bubble of the psychiatric establishment.Apparently Henry forgets to tell his patients he is going away and they come knocking on Ms. Saulnier's door and calling for appointments, hardly even noticing the change in doctors. Being a sweet and sympathetic soul and not wanting to turn people away, she listens to their stories for an hour and they pay her money for her advice (illegally of course). She learns quickly that all analysts have to say is "yeees" or "hmmmm" or "what comes to mind now?" and get paid big bucks. Of course, patients have the right to remain silent and sometimes nothing comes to mind (they can sometimes spend an hour in total silence and must still pay for the privilege). Ms. Saulnier is an understanding person and a good listener and, in quite a slap at the "professionals", achieves more success with Henry's patients (not to mention his dog Edgar) in one week than he apparently has in years.Beatrice decides to continue to pretend to be Dr. Harriston's assistant and studies up on her Freud. Meanwhile in Paris, Henry must contend with Beatrice's aggressive boy friends, messy rooms, leaky plumbing and the hammering of a roof being repaired. Fed up with the problems in Paris, he returns to New York to stay with an old friend in a down home part of Brooklyn. Conveniently for the plot, the good doctor stops off at his office and finds Beatrice playing psychoanalyst and his patients miraculously improved. Finding Ms. Saulnier intriguing and attractive, he goes along with her game, pretending to be her patient. This sets off a process of mutual discovery and self-awareness that is quite predictable but nonetheless amusing and enlightening.This was my first Akerman film and while I realize it is totally unlike her others, I really loved it and found both leads to be superb. Binoche never looked more alluring and Hurt is terrific in his role as the deadpan doctor. I don't know who's crazy, the majority of critics who trashed it or me, but I know for sure one of us is ready for the couch. I won't say any more about Couch in New York except that while it does unfold its magic at a very leisurely pace, the rewards are there for the patient (no pun intended). Since the ending left me with such a warm, fuzzy feeling, I'm thinking of calling Ms. Binoche and.well.on second thought.

This mess needed a Lubitsch touch if it was ever going to succeed, and Akerman is no Lubitsch. Bad script, poor acting (although it is amusing to hear Hurt's French--what is behind this trend for American actors in French roles?; cf Malkovich in Temps Retrouve). When the best scene is a dog swimming in Central Park lake, you've got trouble.

I'm totally biased. Not objective or dispassionate. Juliette Binoche is my favorite actress of all time and every time I see her do anything on screen it's captivating. And William Hurt is one of my favorite actors. And the idea for the film was a very good one, however I think the french writer must have been resposible for most of the dialogue because a lot of it is nonsensical/out of place.That said, nice little stories like these (not cheesy, just "light") are one of the resons why I love film. I think of Chacun Cherche son Chat for the epitome of what I'm talking about...I saw this with my gf (now wife) at the Kabuki in SF and we both had a great time.