'When The Cat's Away...'

November 12, 1997

The best clue to this whimsical film's theme is found in an idiomatically accurate translation of its French title instead of the rather catchy English title given by its distributors. "Chacun cherche son chat"- each one (of the characters) looks for their cat - is a literal and figurative journey in a tale that laments the loss of community and withdrawal into individualism in La Bastille, the 10th 'arrondisement' (suburb) of Paris. Writer/director Cedric Klapisch takes a swipe at everything from the absurdity of meeting people to the personal columns to the egoism of postmodern society.

This is not the stereotypical tourist's Paris of lush boulevards and carefully manicured parks, but the Paris of its workers, immigrants, unemployed and the aged living on social benefits. The bulldozers stand by for 'urban renewal' - gentrifying the suburb for the bourgeois classes, here personified by the model agency boss of our protagonist Chloe (Garance Clavel), bored shitless by the monotony of adorning one more vacuous face.

Those looking for a story with twists and plot points all over the place will find themselves bored by this film in the neo-realist tradition as it is essentially a series of vignettes tied around the only real textual event: the search for Chloe's cat, Gris-Gris (gray-gray) after she leaves it with a cat lover, Madame Rene (Renee La Calm). Chloe and the rest of her menage go on vacation - daringly portrayed by Klapisch in a two-second wide shot of Chloe swimming in the ocean - and on her return, the cat has gone missing, much to the Madame's and Chloe's consternation. Chloe acquires the unsolicited help of Madame's elderly friends and a Moroccan neighbor - the simple Jamel (Zinedine Soualem) - who puppy dog's after Chloe despite her constant rejection of him.

What ensues is really about each person looking for their idiomatic cat. Why do we have these domestic animal companions? What is so lacking in our individual lives that the object of our affections becomes an animal? Klapisch's answer seems to be unequivocal; the cocooning of ourselves in our little apartments and irrelevant lives leaves a spiritual vacuum that we often fill with an easy object of our affection that responds to our needs as we want - it doesn't argue, talk back, walk out, or leave us stone cold feeling like shit after a one-night stand. Each of the characters here is really looking for human companionship and sharing, and the cat becomes the rallying point for that search.

I have lingering memories of the ironic, stark, peopleless urban landscapes that Klapisch keeps on returning to - so many people yet such little humanity. As an added bonus, the eclectic soundtrack that covers the multi-cultural gamut of what is modern day France is a marvel. Filled with naturalistic performances (from a cast of almost 50% amateurs) of quiet intensity, this is a film that will linger with you; something to be savoured and ruminated upon rather than consumed with take-away haste.

Peter Lewis
A true African-American, Peter has led a peripatetic lifestle, and after graduating from UCF with a film degree, he is pondering life as another wannabe, devoting his time to working on a novel, his thesis film, a suntan and the dubious benefits of Rogaine.