Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench

Reviewed by J. Lunden on May 24, 2011

I am aware that I have a tendency to eviscerate a film and then claim, somewhat paradoxically, that I didn’t hate it. This is a consequence of being at war with myself over the parts and the whole. Such is the case with Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench. Writer, director and cinematographer Damien Chazelle’s film has moments of great tenderness, jazzy dalliances that are certainly charming and inklings of greater depth beyond its style. But these parts belong to a whole whose vibe I simply didn’t feel. In fact, I found the majority of Chazelle’s mise-en-scène shoddy and often gratuitously cute.

The film is about the time period following a failed relationship between Guy (a jazz trumpeter) and Madeline (a grad student). Guy (Jason Palmer) is stoic, married to his music and emotionally distant from his lovers. He doesn’t consciously begin to miss Madeline until near the film’s end. Madeline (Desiree Garcia) lives with the aftermath immediately. A sort of triangle is made with the introduction of Elena (Sandha Khin) who acts as Guy’s rebound. (Elena also features into a few of Chazelle’s narrative drifts.) Chazelle tells his love story with somewhat of a cinematic contradiction, beginning with the opening scene where we’re presented with a gritty, 16mm black and white image and an overture that announces itself with the energy of a classic MGM musical. The narrative itself is loose, like one of Guy’s jazz riffs, with little to no leading dialogue or dramatic sequences. Scenes of high emotion or revelation play out in modest musical numbers and even a bit of that old soft-shoe (taps are added in post).

Some will undoubtedly find Chazelle’s gimmick of cross-pollinating Rodgers & Hammerstein with cinéma vérité stylings delightful. I found it uninspired and almost entirely without purpose. Chazelle’s amalgamation lacks the essential soul and rhythm of his obvious influences, be it the genre play of Jean-Luc Godard or the grace of Gene Kelly. It seems Chazelle focused on the form of these ideas rather than their function. When Anna Karina, Claude Brasseu and Sami Frey turned a diner into a dance floor in Bande à Part, we were seeing lightning in a bottle, characters and creators dancing to the their perspectives. Chazelle’s numbers play like whimsy for the sake of concocted whimsy. In a classic musical, a person needed no more reason than the promise of a kiss to burst into song, but they could never be mistaken for real people. We love them because they’re the personification of the emotions we feel we must keep guarded and silent. Chazelle’s characters are presented and shot as real and vulnerable, so when they break out into clumsy song and dance routines, I felt distanced and a little embarrassed, as if I were watching a friend sing an ill-advised cover song to a cruel high school talent show audience. And I couldn’t help but wonder why, even in their fantasies, is their world still devoid of color and true grace. Who dreams of being a grounded Superman?

Chazelle shot most of the film in smothering close-ups so he could open up the composition (within the standard 1.33:1 aspect ratio) during the musical numbers. As such, the musical scenes felt like being brought up for air, which is not a compliment. This claustrophobic hovering reeked of a filmmaker attempting to counterfeit the intimacy and emotion that his narrative contrivances repeatedly rendered flaccid.

There are moments, however, in Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench that I found (here it comes) worthwhile, and I do appreciate the idea behind the conceit even if the execution is flawed. On the rare occasion that Chazelle removed the camera from his actors’ throats, the film produces moments of poignancy and tact, like the scene in which Madeline lies on her bed, lost in her headphones, replaying the remnants of the relationship. It’s a good, subtly suggestive scene. Unfortunately, these scenes also reminded me of better films, like John Carney’s Once, that bring the idea of modern musicals down to earth gently and with greater understanding.

Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench comes to DVD in its original standard aspect ratio of 1.33:1. The disc is dual-layered, progressive and has an average video bitrate of 6.49Mbps.

While I may not have enjoyed the film’s cinematography, I greatly enjoyed the lovely 16mm textures of Cinema Guild’s transfer. In fact, I really have no complaints. It’s a surprisingly strong image for standard definition, with excellent black levels, solid contrast and a wonderfully intact grain structure.

Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench is presented here with an English Dolby Digital 2.0 track at 448Kbps.

This is a modest 2-channel presentation that I believe perfectly mirrors the film’s low budget production. Some hiss is audible, but dialogue is almost always clear. The music doesn’t exactly fill the sound stage, but it’s presented as well as can be expected. As with the video, I really have no complaints.

Commentary:
This track features writer/director Damien Chazelle and composer Justin Hurwitz. They passionately discuss nearly all aspects of their process, including writing the songs and casting their leads (who had no previous acting experience). It’s an enjoyable and informative track.

Behind-the-Scenes (19min):
Here we have a pleasantly intimate behind-the-scenes featurette with some insight into the filmmakers’ on-set process .

Making a Song (8min):
This is a cool feature. We get to see footage and notes and hear alternate versions of the film’s songs.

Deleted Scenes (27min):
Here we have nearly 30 minutes of deleted scenes, which makes sense given the film’s two-year shoot.

Theatrical Trailer:
The film’s theatrical trailer.

Booklet:
The DVD comes with a 2-page insert featuring an essay by Amy Taubin.

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