Paul(Romain Duris) can't live with or without Anna(Joana Preiss). Jonathan(Louis Garrel) broke the fourth wall in the opening moments of "Dans Paris" and announces that the movie won't have a narrator. He's not the main character; Paul is, according to Jonathan. The narrator is lying. Jonathan's the main character because "Dans Paris" is about narration. Like most films, "Dans Paris" will proceed with omniscient narration. Unlike most films, however, the audience isn't made aware of this given. There's a tacit agreement between the filmmaker and moviegoer that the film begins where the backstory leaves off. But Jonathan speaks directly to the camera, forcing the viewer out of his passive stance. Jonathan isn't Paul's big brother, but he is "big brother" in the Orwellian sense of the word. Jonathan is literally, the omniscient narrator.
"Dans Paris" breaks down its story into two sections: Paul with Anna, and Paul without Anna. This compartmentalization extends to the mode of narration. When Paul and Anna are together, "Dans Paris" records their relationship in a non-linear fashion. When they're apart, the story becomes more sequential in its telling. The first part is told in non-sequential order because Jonathan picks and chooses what interests him the most; not surprisingly, most of the scenes feature Anna in a state of undress. Personal hygiene, or the lack of personal hygiene, is a subject that Anna broaches when Paul leaves their bed to take a shower. Anna believes Paul is leading by example. Paul's decision to lather up, Anna thinks, is tied in to the hope that she'll follow suit. Accused of being rank in a passive-aggressive fashion, Anna flips her lid. Since it's unlikely that Paul would share this moment with Jonathan, the viewer is led to believe that the younger brother is a filmic interloper, the camera's eye in the flesh. When Jonathan bumps into an old flame, this ex-lover cites personal hygiene for their break-up. In other words, "Dans Paris" has echoes. If Jonathan "controls the vertical and the horizontal", he controls the story of his life that's being narrated. Three women in one day, hmmm. We see it. But we see what he wants us to see.
A cursory glance at "Dans Paris" suggests that this neo-French New Waver is about a sad man who lost his girlfriend, but if you're attuned to the self-reflexive opening, you'll understand that it's really about narration.
"Dans Paris" breaks down its story into two sections: Paul with Anna, and Paul without Anna. This compartmentalization extends to the mode of narration. When Paul and Anna are together, "Dans Paris" records their relationship in a non-linear fashion. When they're apart, the story becomes more sequential in its telling. The first part is told in non-sequential order because Jonathan picks and chooses what interests him the most; not surprisingly, most of the scenes feature Anna in a state of undress. Personal hygiene, or the lack of personal hygiene, is a subject that Anna broaches when Paul leaves their bed to take a shower. Anna believes Paul is leading by example. Paul's decision to lather up, Anna thinks, is tied in to the hope that she'll follow suit. Accused of being rank in a passive-aggressive fashion, Anna flips her lid. Since it's unlikely that Paul would share this moment with Jonathan, the viewer is led to believe that the younger brother is a filmic interloper, the camera's eye in the flesh. When Jonathan bumps into an old flame, this ex-lover cites personal hygiene for their break-up. In other words, "Dans Paris" has echoes. If Jonathan "controls the vertical and the horizontal", he controls the story of his life that's being narrated. Three women in one day, hmmm. We see it. But we see what he wants us to see.
A cursory glance at "Dans Paris" suggests that this neo-French New Waver is about a sad man who lost his girlfriend, but if you're attuned to the self-reflexive opening, you'll understand that it's really about narration.