The passage of time,

Switch to summer time: advancing collectively needles than an hour. Those who fail to do so are delaying. The passage of time, the fear that things are getting older and there is everything to lose them to hang, but also lucidity before the vertigo and violence that requires any real momentum amnesia, infidelity to his legacy is the topic that runs through the entire film Assayas, since his first film, Désordre, film Farewell to rock. Film cruel when one who refused to grow up (betray) was the only group to remain behind.

It is not contradictory that this Summer Time succeeds very rushed immediately to Hong Kong polar Boarding Gate. One poured into pure energy, the dynamo of another world, the Asia-art, the China carefree forward without turning, until amnesiac vertigo. The surprise of the Summer Time takes precisely what he looks back to this Asia, the new center of the world, but from France and, more importantly from a house where no bourgeois rodent more than death, memories, family and cultural heritage, beautiful, suffocating, bulky.

Children are great. One (it looks like Miou-Miou, but not, Juliette Binoche!) Makes the design for the Japanese, the youngest (Jeremie Renier) bump for a brand of sneakers relocated to China. Rest Berling, an economist in crisis, the only clan to want to keep beyond the death of his mother (the always brilliant Edith Scobb) tables and furniture masters who constitute the family, who came from a great-uncle painter post - Impressionist and end collector. As previously Belveaux in Désordre, Berling might be the hero of the film, it does not protect the scenario. Which leaves in the wound solitaire that betrays everybody to be able to move forward. Saying once again the direction of travel of the modern world, but deferred, since one of the places in the world (Paris) where the pace is the most ramollo, static is the way to divert Assayas up the command ' a film for the Musée d'Orsay. Almost want to make misuse here, the museum is still threatening to be a cemetery, where good conscience shows art in the indifference of tourists (one is actually not obliged to agree ). And it is no doubt from there his semi-artistic failure. The portrait of a middle cultivated, great family of France rancie in its own juices, muséographiée in its codes of age, could quite turn the game massacre squeaking way Bergman (to whom the film will continue to use), if the specifications of the order - added to a final avowed tenderness towards them-not hindered it. Contemplation - until complacency? -- Has been replaced by the coup label. The film opts for the in-between on the premise goal, taking every precaution in the world that does not favour.

Assayas gives, in fact, quite gaillardement stick to get beaten, especially in the first half-hour of the film, which is both the most exciting (to the exasperation of France, was burned distribute claques) and more interesting (because qu'insaisissable, ambiguous). Refusing to choose between the nostalgic éperdus (which are wrong to be right) and the monsters amnesia (which are right to be wrong), his gaze turns in the last instance to adolescents, those living in the present. The time is theirs. The season is theirs. Neither winter nor summer: spring. With them, Assayas runs away.