102 Boulevard Haussmann

A terrific, performance by Alan Bates and strong supporting ones by Janet McTeer and Paul Rhys anchor this quiet, understated study of a few months in the life of writer Marcel Proust during WW I.

This Proust is fragile and eccentric, ironically seemingly blithely disconnected from the sufferings of those around him, while at the same time writing his works of insight into the human mind and heart. Yet, as the film goes on, we become more aware that Proust's seeming lack of empathy is as much a defense mechanism against his own sadness and loneliness as they are an unintentional cruel streak.

The piece is by nature a bit chilly, and the emotions to be found are of the quiet, subtle variety. Yet there is also something haunting about it in the end. It's one of those pieces that's lingered in my mind more strongly and positively than I would have expected based on my more mixed reaction while watching it.

For Screen Two, Alan Bennett has written a fictional film with some basis in reality. After 1907 Marcel Proust did little else but think and write. He was an invalid and asthmatic tucked up in bed looking rather pasty faced which Alan Bates captures so well. The film is set in 1916 with the Great war as a backdrop as men in the front are dropping like flies.

Proust had a maid, Celeste (Janet McTeer) whose cloistered relationship which forms the basis of this film. He makes demands from her even when her husband is on leave from the army. Proust has also taken a fancy to a young viola player (Paul Rhys) and he lures the quartet to his apartment to perform for him personally and helps the invalid Rhys not to return to the front.

Celeste tries to look out for Proust, she might even be possessive of him, in fact both are possessive of each other and certainly inspires him to write in a world that is in conflict yet Proust is holed up in his room.

A slight work but excellent performances from Bates and McTeer.