Fina Torres has created a visually stimulating, but ultimately disappointing and vacuous urban fantasy that transplants the fairy tale of Cinderella to the hyperaestheticized, intellectually eclectic and multicultural setting of modern Paris. "Celestial Clockwork" bustles with so much energy and possibility and so many interesting faces that it comes as no surprise when it fails to sustain its own promise.
Sadly, it's a scatterbrained attempt at farce that only manages to drive a wedge between the audience and those characters with whom some empathy might exist.
The story begins when a young Venezuelan, Ana Mendoza, leaves her betrothed at the altar to pursue an opera career in Paris, inspired by her idol Maria Callas. She arrives in France, overwhelmed and exhilarated by her newfound freedom. Initially, Ana lives with a group of Venezuelan aliens and a sinister performance / video artist named Celeste (Arielle Dombasle).
To develop her heavenly voice and hone her operatic skills, Ana enlists the services of an ancient Russian named Grigorieff (Michel Bebrane). In addition, Ana's path crosses with those of a harried and neurotic Lacanian psychoanalyst named Alcanie (Evelyne Didi), and Toutou (Hidegar Barcia Madriz), a Bantu witch doctor.
Ana also discovers that the renowned film director Italo Medici (Lluis Homar) is searching for the lead in his slated film version of Rossini's "La Cenerentola." Of course, a comedy of errors ensues as Ana tries to get an audition with Medici and is continually thwarted, either by her cosmic bad luck or by the efforts of the none-too-subtly-named Celeste.
Torres does not juggle these volatile elements very well. She clearly has a fine understanding of the various milieus that serve as the objects of her derision: psychoanalytic practice, the film industry and the art world. The problem resides in the fact that her use of social satire cuts inconsistently deep.
For example, psychoanalysis is viciously satirized in the person of Alcanie, who consults with her clients over a video screen and balances her checkbook while they yammer on about their hang-ups and insecurities.
Then, there are characters, like Grigorieff, Ana and Armand (Frederic Longbois), with whom Torres seems to expect that we will connect on an emotional plane. Essentially, to unpack an old cliché, Torres can't have her cake and eat it too. She doesn't succeed in maintaining islands of authenticity in a swirling sea of satire.
Some of the satire is pretty good, though. One of the best characters is Celeste, who represents something of an amalgam of Warhol and Madonna. Her hallucinatory, self-indulgent art videos form an amusing visual contrast to the dew-fresh and unspoiled images of Ana. Dombasle turns on the sexual charm full throttle and provides an arresting performance.
Also amusing is Madriz as Toutou. He brings an authority and ease to his performance. In one of the film's best passages, Toutou and Alcanie swap therapies and methods, discovering that there's not much of a difference between psychoanalysis and voodoo.
As for the star, Gil isn't given much of a chance to shine, though she does radiate an appealing and ineffable warmth. All the same, most of my attention was drawn to the vociferous and colorful peripheral characters. One begins to lose interest in Ana's quest to be a great opera star, and we never get a feel her motivation or interior struggle.
It was recently reported that Disney has bought the English-language remake rights to "Celestial Clockwork." Apparently, Hollywood will not only remake quality films that come out of Europe ("La Femme Nikita" becomes "Point of No Return"), but they will even pick up Europe's refuse.