There is nothing sexy about Loving
Annabelle, based on the
1958 classic starring Romy Schneider, Mädchen in Uniform, based in turn on a 1931 film of the same
name. Yes, there is sex, and, yes, it's capably acted and prettily
photographed. But no sexiness. And there is a difference between sex and sexy.
While
a straight woman or man is not likely to find this film titillating either
(not enough nudity, not enough action), Annabelle
tries to at once update Mädchen
and retain its Eden-of-forbidden-fruits atmosphere. In the 1958 version's
Prussian all-girl school, everyone is a Von-something. In this third Mädchen
incarnation, the title
character Annabelle's mom is a senator; her crush, teacher Simone, was
given a beach house by her parents as a "graduation gift." Even with these
signs of exclusivity, it's still a world of round handwriting dotted with
smiley faces. Adolescence is a golden age where social differences are
flattened by hormones (nature) and banality (culture).
Erin
Kelly (Annabelle) is just too Disney Channel to be sexy. Hair highlighted
in neat stripes, when she plays guitar and sings, it's the words that spill
out of verses, not luscious flesh out of her red slip. Her chin is angled
in a permanent upward glare that'ss supposed to express defiance. (Hasn誸 anyone
told her that it only makes her look bull-necked?) Annabelle誷
assertiveness 行 her chief virtue 行 belongs to a generation raised on
strong Disney heroines (Pocahontas, Belle, Esmeralda, Jasmin) in far
slinkier packages. And Simone (played by Diane Gaidry), Annabelle誷 object of desire, is too Robin
Wright-Penn to be sexy. Her every line trembles with self-doubt as her
furrowed brow signals her constant suffering. (Just like Wright-Penn in Beowulf, she made me want to put her out of her
misery.) (Once a tenor friend of mine told me a secret: If you aren誸 sure
of what
emotion is called for in the libretto, just crease your forehead. The effect
is profondeur.)
Of
course, the luminous Schneider was both Empress Sissi and "Pussycat" to Peter O'Toole. And in the '58
M奷chen, the erotic build-up 行 manipulation of
audience expectation 行 begins immediately: Hothouse crushes is all the
girls talk about. In Annabelle,
however, much time is spent reassuring us that this is, despite the posh
factor, a lot like the high schools we know, complete with the familiar
characters 行 the insecure one, the wild one, etc. (Where誷 the clairvoyant
one?) The build-up of desire commences (drum roll, please) when Annabelle
answers Simone with a sexual interpretation of a poem in class (What is
this? Fame?). Hands
creeping on the lap, tearful confessions and breakdowns pass for a
follow-up. Except for revelations that their respective former lovers were
female, Annabelle and Simone could just be groping for a "connection, "
which could just as easily have been achieved on Facebook. The filmmakers
give us no clue, visual or aural, of physical attraction between the two,
and when they finally rip each other's clothes off and tumble into bed,
it誷 a surprise. That might work for guys, but it誷 a comedown in a film
about female sexuality.
Girl-school
and teacher-student loves are clichés like pearls on bare breasts in exotic
Thailand. Give us something new to chew on.
