Review of Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky (2009) by Nisa K — 04 May 2010

Kounen takes this gorgeously appointed "Robin's Nest" scenario terribly seriously; if nothing else, he's determined to prove he can make a film without a smirk on its face. The former action buff's suspicion of words aids his cause: with dialogue kept at a premium, there's none of that lounging around mouthing witty epithets on style that mars certain costume dramas, although the sequence in which Coco arrives upon the name of her signature perfume may yet rank alongside the invention of "Light My Fire" in Oliver Stone's "The Doors" for unintended biopic kitsch.

.. It almost goes without saying that Mouglalis's Coco is greatly more fascinating than Audrey Tautou's girly mannequin: lived-in, mournful, intrinsically alone, a wounded creature reaching out for affection, and lashing out when she finds she can't have it.

Worth remembering, though, that there were three people in this relationship, and Kounen generally avoids pointscoring or casting judgement: Mikkelsen offers a nicely cagey reading of a man who may be more conventional than he knows, or is willing to admit, and Morozova works wonders to humanise a character otherwise defined chiefly by the misplucking of her eyebrows - a style faux pas that Coco would surely have had down as a no-no.

A certain formal rigidity sets in - observed in the move towards straight-on or overhead shots - but I admired "Coco and Igor" for its reluctance to settle into cinematic convention; the ending owes a debt to "2001", of all films.

Kounen clenches his teeth and commits to a harsh, angular modernism, in morality as much as in design, and while the result may be tougher to swoon over than "Coco Before Chanel", it stands as a love triangle with spikes at the corners, instead of frills.