Paris 1919 @ LAC

So first off - it was a bit strange to have a mixture between original documentary footage spliced with century old photos, and then throw in paid actors playing Clemenceau, Wilson, Lloyd George, and the Italian PM who did dick, in addition to a smattering of other Europeans, Arabs, Jews, civil servants, and mapmakers who round off the cast. The director did as good a job with it as he could, but I always felt as if George Clemenceau's larger-than-life 'stache (see below) was always about to fall off his face because they didn't have it in the budget for the good facial hair adhesive.

Second of all, not only would it be near impossible to convey something of this scope and significance in any medium (save an HBO mini-series with $9 million an episode behind it), but Margaret MacMillan's book was already so near perfection that anything they did with it under her title would seem, somehow, less than what the book as able to accomplish. In addition, the director (who also wrote and produced it, I think) outlines for himself in a Globe and Mail article all the aspects of the film that he wanted to explore more of, but based on serious limitations (only 10 days shooting in Paris, the limited budget of an NFB co-production, etc) he achieved whatever he could with this movie that, apparently, has been in the works for nearly a decade.

Keeping that all in mind, what about the actual movie? I liked it, but it might have been because its about an era I find very fascinating, and because it was based on a fabulous book about a truly remarkable screw-up in human history, though there are, arguably, many to choose from. This one, unlike many of its competitors, still manages to have wide-reaching ramifications that we, in the 21st Century, still cannot shake ourselves of. This is our shame now as it was the post-war leaders' shame then. 

It all comes down to scale (spoken like a true geographer!), and the movie was not up to the task of representing something of this magnitude in such a small scale fashion. It was as if the film was conscious of its small size from the beginning: a boy in his father's clothes, convincing others that he can pull it off. And at moment's Paris: 1919 could, but it fell short of its overall objective of conveying the total magnitude of the events in question. Yet to be fair to the director, Paul Cohen, I dont know if he could have.

I could have stayed for the Q & A after the movie ended and asked him that myself, but as anyone who has been to a conference with me knows: I hate Q & A's. They are masturbatory circle-jerks, typically moreso for the audience participants than the director, and I have nothing to do with them. Call me rude, I dont care: point out that if I was the one at the podium I would feel a little differently, and I would tell you you're probably right - - but that at my core I know that if I was in the crowd, I'd be thinking about getting the hell out of Dodge myself. If I wanted to hear old people bleed on about how they feel and try and pose it like a question, I would visit old folk's homes and convince them I'm their lost grandchild, or attend City Council meetings.

But I dont - so I dont...

So on a scale of 1 (I Love You, Man) to 10 (Chinatown), Paris: 1919 gets a 6, unlike Courtney who is a 'solid 7!'