The Fall of the American
Empire (La chute de
l'empire américain)
(Canada, 128)
Written and directed by Denys Arcand
Starring: Aléxandre Landry, Maripier Morin, Rémy
Girard, Louis Morissette, Maxim Roy, Pierre Curzi, Vincent Leclerc
Programme: Special Presentations (Toronto
Premiere)
 |
| TIFF |
Denys Arcand is back with a vengeance! The
Quebecois master returns with The Fall of the American Empire, a Robin
Hood fable for the Trump era that resonates strongly with the anxieties,
tensions, and unrest of the time. It's a perceptive punch in the face to
capitalism and a damning satire of these days of darkness.
Days of darkness are nothing new to Arcand -- that is literally the title of the 2007 film that Fall of the American Empire builds upon in the director's oeuvre. Festival buzz positions Fall as the third installment of the American Empire trilogy that began with 1986's The Decline of the American Empire and 2003's Academy Award winner The Barbarian Invasions even though the same angle was used for Days of Darkness. Perhaps Arcand and company would rather everyone forgot his 2007 misfire and perhaps it's best we all did. The new film is not a sequel to Arcand’s previous works except in a thematic sense, yet Fall is the fitting conclusion the series deserves.
Arcand critiques the ills of capitalism as greed
befalls his well-intentioned hero, Pierre-Paul (Aléxandre Landry), who decides
to rob from the rich and give the goods to the poor. Pierre-Paul, a Doctor of
Philosophy who earns his bread as a deliveryman, is in a predicament familiar
to many patrons of the liberal arts from his generation. He's wasted his life
in pursuit of knowledge that can and should change the world, but high
intelligence isn't a hot commodity in capitalist systems. School, really, is
just a scheme to keep poor schmucks like Pierre-Paul (and this reviewer) in
perpetual debt.
Luck comes Pierre-Paul's way when he makes a
delivery at the scene of a robbery gone awry. One of the two thieves at the
scene gets away, while the other one is fatally shot by a surprise assailant
before killing him in turn. Both thugs drop their bags, though, and P-P scoops
the cash. Let the police and everyone else assume that the other crook made off
with the score.
Pierre-Paul might be a genius, but he does
not have the smarts to pull off this cakewalk of a payday. He is a colossally
stupid criminal despite his high intelligence. He makes all sorts of rookie
mistakes, like approaching the accountant of a biker gang (Rémy Girard) for
advice on how to cook the books and pay off his student debts without getting
caught. His other seemingly terrible idea is to fall in love with a high-priced
escort, Aspasie (Maripier Morin), named for the Greek philosopher whose wisdom
is said to have influenced Socrates.
The relationship between Pierre-Paul and Aspasie
highlights how much the young man needs to learn about the world. When Fall
begins, Pierre-Paul is waxing philosophical with his then- girlfriend,
blathering on about "intelligence" and how capitalist society rewards
mediocrity and people who seek comfort and stability by tasking menial jobs
that help run the machine. His definition of intelligence, however, is
awfully narrow. He conflates intelligence with bookmarks and academic rigor.
Pull his nose out of a book, however, and Pierre-Paul knows diddly about life.
He has no practical experience or sense
of functioning outside a classroom or library.
Aspasie, however, has what Pierre-Paul lacks:
street smarts. Robin Hood's Maid Marion is reared from hard experience.
She knows that people are
not innately good and must lie, cheat, steal, and screw one one another to get
ahead in this world. Aspasie draws out the protagonist's naivete, although her
primary function in the film seems to bed eye candy, and the pair joins both
sides of the brain to get the score. If Pierre-Paul can change his way of
thinking, perhaps he can change the course for his future.
The Fall of the American
Empire unfolds as a fable as grand gestures and deep
dialogue positions Pierre-Paul’s plight into a timely parable about the
temptations of greed and the perverted value systems that throw the world off
balance. Landry is excellent as the wise yet naive Pierre-Paul and a who’s who
of Arcand regulars joins him in a top form ensemble with Girard stealing every
scene as the tough street-wise accountant who wants to go straight.
Fall is Arcand at his most cynical and perceptive. The film sees
Arcand in his element crafting deliciously literary characters well-versed in
philosophy and pop culture arcana. He's fearless in his critique not only of
Trump, whom the film colorfully and fairly dubs a "cretin,” but, as with
Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 11/9, Trump isn’t Arcand’s target. Both
filmmakers have their sights locked and load on the repugnant system of
capitalism that breeds social inequality and cultural divides.
Arcand situates the drama within the social
divides percolating invisibly in Canada while chaos South of the border
consumes the headlines. The coup that ties the caper within its real world
concerns is Arcand’s choice to emphasize the faces that have been failed by the
system. The homeless of Montreal figure prominently as Pierre-Paul constantly
acknowledges his comforts and donates his spare change to people on the street,
often stopping to offer the greater support of exchanging a few words to feed
their humanity. His efforts to volunteer in a local soup kitchen, moreover,
stresses the divides poverty creates and the bridges one can make to share wealth
and comfort. The faces of Montreal’s homeless gradually come to the forefront
of the film as Arcand inserts portraits of the poor who stare directly to the
camera and defy the audience not to feel hungry for change. The film is a
return to form for Arcand and a great political satire for our times.
