QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM THE RED SEA
French super actress Juliette Binoche had never danced in her life, while British choreographer Akram Khan had never acted. So the former challenges the latter to create a performance together, entirely based on their skills and their intuition. Binoche is visibly at ease, forcefully thrusting herself onto the dancer, in more ways the one. She screams to Khan: “I’m exposing myself to you”, with her legs open spread-eagle across the floor. The male confesses that he feels uncomfortable with the sexual energy. Yet it isn’t his libido Binoche is seeking to provoke, but instead his artistic instinct. Her tactics pay off.
This is the plain register of the thunderous encounter of a film star and a dance diva. This is achieved without pretence: nobody though this would be turned into a film when the images were captured 15 years ago. The action was registered by the hands of the director’s unsuspecting sister Marion Stalens (who is not a cinematographer) The settings are extremely austere (a reflection of Anish Kapoor’s minimalistic steak), and so is the camerawork. Philip Sheppard’s score is simple and non-intrusive, It is fascinating to watch the then 46-year-old actress guffaw, sweat profusely, and briefly panic as the saddle keeping her attached to the wall mercilessly punishes her bladder.
Roughly the first half of the film consists of rehearsals, and this is when both Binoche and Khan are at their most unguarded, and the most spontaneous, hilarious and absurd interactions take place. Khan chastises himself: “this is not therapy”, only for an affable Binoche to interject with a comforting remark: “its actually is”. Formidable acting coach Susan Batson prods the duo into action. Her elicitation technique is often intimidating, causing the more timid Khan to retract inside his shell. Her orders for the two to “penetrate” each other’s space are both unexpected and funny. Batson is a character just as fascinating as the two leads.
Gradually, the vague story of two feuding lovers comes to life, in a performance that has echoes of Pina Bausch, and resists easy categorisation. We watch the actual delivery of the spectacle in the second half of the film. Mime meets tango meets Gershwin, to delicious results. Binoche forgets the lyrics of The Man I Love. Perhaps she doesn’t love her man that much after all? Meanwhile, Khan tries to tame his imaginary racist father, who is outraged that his son should date a kafir (an “infidel”). This is neither a dance show nor a play. And In-I in Motion is barely a film. This observation may come as a disappointment to purists, however it does not have a negative impact on this humble verdict piece.
Pared down from an earlier cut half an hour longer (which premiered at San Sebastian earlier this year), In-I in Motion still feels a little long at 127 minutes. The spectacle itself becomes a little monotonous, particularly after many scenes were seen during the rehearsal. And while this is not a major directorial effort (but rather a rehash of archive footage), La Binoche deserves credit for “exposing herself” (read: exhibiting her needs and anxieties) in such an unapologetic way.
In-I in Motion just showed at the 5th Red Sea International Film Festival. Binoche is present at the event in order to receive a Lifetime Achievement Award (the prize qwas given out during the event’s opening, when the very teary actress-turned-directors thanked her Arab hosts for the recognition.
