But outside of this one sequence in The Illusionist, Tatischeff (as his name underscores) is not meant to invoke the character of Hulot, as much as he is meant to recall the artist who assumed the name, Jacques Tati. (For Playtime, Tati built a virtual city with its own power plant at great expense to him both financially and in terms of his cinematic career.) Like the director, Tatischeff is a man who patiently sets up acts involving sleight of hand, appreciated by a rare few (as represented by Alice), but is fighting a losing battle in a world growing ever faster in its pace, its technological development and its disdain for artists who aren’t simply pretty tabulas rasa; a running joke in the film involves Tatischeff repeatedly encountering a boy band that acts masculine in front of their screaming female fans while relaxing into effeminacy backstage.CONTINUE READING AT NOMAD EDITIONS: WIDE SCREEN
God bless Criterion for reissuing Playtime on Blu-ray. This visual Where's Waldo? for movie watchers depends on the clarity that only Blu can offer, due to French director Jacques Tati's decision to shoot in 70mm and avoid anything but wide-angle shots. The third in the series of films starring Monsieur Hulot, a forerunner of the far inferior but better known Mr. Bean (Rowan Atkinson), starts to minimize the character's footprint on the story, allowing other characters to initiate the gags in a virtual cityscape constructed by the production solely for use in the film. For director Tati (who also plays Hulot), Playtime is also a natural progression from his previous movies in that they all have a preoccupation with the effect of encroaching modernity on a romanticized past.
This isn't immediately apparent in his earlier films, but even in L'ecole des facteurs (1947), there is the implied pressure of speed on the country postman Tati plays due to the conceptual invasion of air mail into his territory. By the time Hulot is introduced, as an agent of chaos in Les vacances de Monsieur Hulot (1953), the idea of technology disturbing the serenity of nature (in this case, a secluded beach) is brought closer to the foreground. In the next Hulot film, the charming Mon Oncle (1958), the incongruity between the modern Parisian suburbs and the quaint Old World Paris is the basis of the central plot, where by the end of the film one is a spectator to the demolishment of Hulot's enchanting neighborhood.
In Playtime, the complete takeover of any recognizable Paris has already occurred. As the near plotless movie begins, a group of American tourists are by turns impressed with and disappointed by the modernization of Paris. All that's left is one little old flower lady to evoke the Paris of postcards, as even a famous landmark like the Eiffel Tower is reduced to a cameo in a reflection on a building's glass door. This time, even the comical Hulot is being crowded out to the sidelines, spending most of the film looking for his new employer in a maze of architecture that constitutes his new workplace.
Tati utilized the film's scope and depth of field to pack each shot with so many visual gags (his films have very little dialogue) that it is impossible to catch them in one viewing. The Blu-ray enhances the possibility of being able to appreciate it fully in the best way one can short of seeing it the way Tati originally intended. And though this is a reissue from Criterion, 
Tatia Rosenthal's thoughtful debut feature, $9.99, is a stop-motion animated collection of interconnected stories based on the work of Israeli author Etgar Keret. The title refers to the price of a mail-order book that Dave Peck (Samuel Johnson) purchases called The Meaning of Life. And through Dave, his family, and his neighbors in an apartment building in an unnamed city, the film does indeed reflect on both the major and the minor details that give life its significance.
The movie begins with an arresting incident. Take a look:
Recognize the voices? The homeless man is voiced by Geoffrey Rush (Shine), and the other man is Jim, Dave's father, voiced by Anthony LaPaglia (TV's Without a Trace). This shocking incident propels Jim, his sons, and everyone whose lives they touch on an introspective journey that is often humorous, mostly quiet, and occasionally revelatory.
The animation does have a distancing effect, allowing one to experience the movie as a detached observer more than an engaged participant. This is not entirely unwelcome given the ruminations sparked by the story.
In some respects, $9.99 is reminiscent of Wayne Wang and Paul Auster's Smoke (1995), an indie set in a Brooklyn tobacco shop that also followed the daily travails of the store's manager (Harvey Keitel) and patrons (William Hurt, Forest Whitaker, and more). Like that film , its insights are subtle. Its points are argued gently. And one only feels the greater impact of its revelations upon reflection later, much like the characters onscreen.
$9.99 is in limited release, and opens locally tomorrow at the Landmark Midtown Art Cinema, 931 Monroe Drive NE, Atlanta, GA 30308, (678) 495-1424.
Still and video clip courtesy of Regent Releasing.
