By Jake Howell jake.howell@utoronto.ca

Countdown To Cannes: Roman Polanski

ROMAN POLANSKI

Background: Polish-French; born Paris, France, 1933.

Known for / style: Rosemary’s Baby (1968), Chinatown (1974), The Pianist (2002), The Ghost Writer (2010); directing both for film and stage; adapting plays for the screen; acting in addition to directing; experimenting with informal trilogies (notably the “apartment trilogy”); films with ambiguous endings; depicting the human psyche as both complex and unstable; themes of violence and paranoia.

Notable accolades: In his many decades as a filmmaker, Polanski has earned some of the top prizes in the industry. High on the list is his Academy Award for Best Director (The Pianist, nominated for Best Picture as well in 2003), his Palme d’Or (The Pianist, 2002), his three BAFTA Awards (The Pianist taking Best Film and the David Lean Award for Direction; Chinatown for Best Direction), his Berlin Bears (Gold for 1966’s Cul-de-sac, Silver for 1965’s Repulsion and 2010’s The Ghost Writer), and his Venice Little Golden Lion (Carnage, 2011). In 1993, Venice gave Polanski a Career Golden Lion, while in 2004, Karlovy Vary gave him a Special Prize for Outstanding Contribution to World Cinema.

Previous Cannes appearances: Coming to Cannes since the early 1970s, Polanski has debuted two films in Competition: The Tenant (1976) and The Pianist (2002), the latter winning the Palme d’Or. Outside the Palme race, however, Polanski has done it all: 1972’s Macbeth and 1986’s Pirates played out of Competition, and in 1994, Polanski acted in Giuseppe Tornatore Competition film A Pure Formality. Furthermore, in 2007, Polanski participated in anthology film To Each His Own Cinema, which was programmed out of Competition, while in 2012, Polanski’s Tess (1979) played in the Cannes Classics sidebar. Also last year was Laurent Bouzereau’s Roman Polanski: A Film Memoir, a Special Screening selection. Finally, Polanski has been on the Competition jury twice: once in 1968 as a general member, and once in 1991 as the President.

Film he’s bringing to Cannes: La Vénus à la fourrure (Venus in Fur), an adaptation of the David Ives play of the same name (which was inspired by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s 1870 novella Venus in Furs). The French-language drama follows stage director Thomas (Mathieu Amalric, also in Arnaud Desplechin’s Competition title Jimmy P.) who is desperate to cast a lead actress in his newest play, entirely dissatisfied with the day’s tryouts. But Thomas allows one more audition: the enigmatic and erotic Vanda (Emmanuelle Seigner, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly) who nails the part and beguiles Thomas with sexual attraction. The audition gains steam, and Thomas becomes obsessed…

Could it win the Palme? Welcome to the trickiest film of the festival. First things first: with the excellent Carnage behind him, Polanski’s latest stage adaptation should be something worth writing about. But in terms of the Palme d’Or and its awards potential, the situation gets hazier: following his September 2009 arrest in Zurich, Polanski has been the subject of renewed scrutiny of his 1977 crime. The topic has been covered in not one, but two recent documentaries by Marina Zenovich (Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired and Roman Polanski: Odd Man Out), and since 1978, Polanski has been unable to enter the United States or any countries that may extradite him to Los Angeles (he fled the States hours before his sentencing). Here’s where things get weird, though: we already know Polanski won the Palme d’Or for The Pianist, but then again, 2002 was the year David Lynch was the President of the jury—and in 2009, Lynch signed a “Free Polanski” petition alongside other prominent Hollywood types, including Woody Allen and Martin Scorsese. In other words, Lynch had no qualms giving him the prize; indeed, he is a vocal champion of Polanski. However, conspicuously missing from the 2009 petition was Steven Spielberg, a man who once offered Polanski the directing gig for Schindler’s List. So the question remains: when it comes time to name a Palme winner, is Polanski’s name too muddied for Spielberg to associate himself with? And how will the rest of his jury feel, with none having signed the Free Polanski petition? Let us not forget, too, that Polanski’s curmudgeonly behaviour at a Cannes 2007 press conference alongside dozens of his fellow directors—leaving pre-emptively on account of boredom—has not done him any favors.

Why you should care: While the optics aren’t good for a Venus in Fur Palme win, Polanski is still a renowned filmmaker. On a strictly artistic basis—if you remove the film from the filmmaker—a quality film remains a quality film.

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It shows how out of it I was in trying to be in it, acknowledging that I was out of it to myself, and then thinking, “Okay, how do I stop being out of it? Well, I get some legitimate illogical narrative ideas” — some novel, you know?

So I decided on three writers that I might be able to option their material and get some producer, or myself as producer, and then get some writer to do a screenplay on it, and maybe make a movie.

And so the three projects were “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep,” “Naked Lunch” and a collection of Bukowski. Which, in 1975, forget it — I mean, that was nuts. Hollywood would not touch any of that, but I was looking for something commercial, and I thought that all of these things were coming.

There would be no Blade Runner if there was no Ray Bradbury. I couldn’t find Philip K. Dick. His agent didn’t even know where he was. And so I gave up.

I was walking down the street and I ran into Bradbury — he directed a play that I was going to do as an actor, so we know each other, but he yelled “hi” — and I’d forgot who he was.

So at my girlfriend Barbara Hershey’s urging — I was with her at that moment — she said, “Talk to him! That guy really wants to talk to you,” and I said “No, fuck him,” and keep walking.

But then I did, and then I realized who it was, and I thought, “Wait, he’s in that realm, maybe he knows Philip K. Dick.” I said, “You know a guy named—” “Yeah, sure — you want his phone number?”

My friend paid my rent for a year while I wrote, because it turned out we couldn’t get a writer. My friends kept on me about, well, if you can’t get a writer, then you write.”
~ Hampton Fancher

“That was the most disappointing thing to me in how this thing was played. Is that I’m on the phone with you now, after all that’s been said, and the fundamental distinction between what James is dealing with in these other cases is not actually brought to the fore. The fundamental difference is that James Franco didn’t seek to use his position to have sex with anyone. There’s not a case of that. He wasn’t using his position or status to try to solicit a sexual favor from anyone. If he had — if that were what the accusation involved — the show would not have gone on. We would have folded up shop and we would have not completed the show. Because then it would have been the same as Harvey Weinstein, or Les Moonves, or any of these cases that are fundamental to this new paradigm. Did you not notice that? Why did you not notice that? Is that not something notable to say, journalistically? Because nobody could find the voice to say it. I’m not just being rhetorical. Why is it that you and the other critics, none of you could find the voice to say, “You know, it’s not this, it’s that”? Because — let me go on and speak further to this. If you go back to the L.A. Times piece, that’s what it lacked. That’s what they were not able to deliver. The one example in the five that involved an issue of a sexual act was between James and a woman he was dating, who he was not working with. There was no professional dynamic in any capacity.

~ David Simon