Paris

it would easy-and wrong-to dismiss cédric klapisch's paris over claire denis' 35 shots of rum. although they're opposite visions of contemporary parisian life-klapisch's mostly white middle class juxtaposes denis' black working class-both are rather wonderful. they complement each other.

klapisch, like denis, has also reached his filmmaking peak. this multi-character film contrasts life and death, love and work stories among an interconnected group with klapisch's usual breeziness (russian dolls, l'auberge espagnole, two of the slickest, most inconsequential comedies ever imported). but this time klapisch's characterizations are more adroit, his reach is wider, more ambitious: a young dancer, pierre (romain duris), awaits a heart transplant; his sister elise (juliette binoche) moves in to help him. their family tale overlaps a middle-aged professor roland (fabrice luchini) chafing at his middle-aged bachelorhood while his architect brother (françois cluzet) awaits fatherhood. meanwhile street vendor jean (albert dupontel) divorces and discovers a new love life and an african immigrant mourad (zinedine soualem) beckons his europe-dreaming brother from cameroon. these diverse tales live up to the vitality of the city-the civilization principle-klapisch salutes.

when mourad holds up a b and w picture postcard of montmarte to mail to his brother, the image reflects the everyday vistas that elise's schoolchildren take for granted, but it also iconizes the big-city/continental romance of paris. klapisch unfolds that romance while examining its particulars. he explores the same exuberant myth fred astaire, audrey hepburn and kay thompson sang about in funny face's "bonjour, paris" number while also accessing the same cultural authenticity of claire denis or even a jacques demy community fable.

as self-conscious as a french new wave master, klapisch lacks the personality of france's great directors, but he's clearly learned something from city tales like jacques rivette's l'amour par terre, alain resnais' private fears in public places and rohmer's rendezvous in paris. not cutesy like before, klapisch captures the bourgeois parisian's fight against spiritual fatigue. and his superb cast gives these glib roles depth. particularly impressive is luchini's scholar who is shocked at the big money made from being a tv-sellout and his own attraction to a much younger student (melanie laurent). "beauty really is disgusting," luchini says, suggesting a straight-faced rohmer parody-wonderfully complicated by the unashamed celebratory boogie he does to "land of a 1000 dances."

paris epitomizes those amazingly sophisticated urban comedies that the french perfect. a scene where fashion models spy on factory workers through a window at night is an audacious and visually voluptuous social critique. when these high-contrast workers-mannequin and grunt-meet in a kiss, klapisch pierces his own romanticism with interpersonal issues of character of experience. oh, the french.

keeping the african immigrant on the periphery of this story admits an unsettling social truth. yet klapisch shrewdly intercuts luchini's neurotic thirst with a third worlder's desert thirst-a worldiness far beyond the parochialism of american indies. paris is a minor film that feels luxurious, and it shames utterly inconsequential stuff like inglourious basterds, district 9 and is livelier cinema than beeswax and taking woodstock.

-- paris directed by cédric klapisch at ifc center runtime: 130 min.