Those Who Love Me Can Take the Train

Picture a dream ride to Logan -- air-conditioned limo, a loquacious driver who actually tells interesting stories, and no Big Dig. Then you get there and every plane out has been cancelled. That's the thudding effect of watching Patrice Chéreau's half-wonderful, half-terrible drama. The memorable title refers to the last wishes of the mercurial painter Jean-Baptiste, who insists on being buried in his provincial home town, a long train ride from Paris. Chéreau brilliantly choreographs the tangle of family, friends, lovers, ex-lovers, and protégés who meet aboard the train to join the body at its final rest. Shooting with a hand-held camera aboard an actual rail line, the director and his daring cinematographer, Eric Gautier, up the emotional ante with every bump and jostle. The film's many stories unfold with the deftness of Short Cuts and the energy of Speed. Then the train arrives, and, oh, does the high drama begin. The mourners debate art, love, and fidelity; the film lurches to a ponderous halt. Chéreau again features many of the rising French stars he used in Queen Margot, including Pascal Greggory and Dominique Blanc, and most of the performances are top-notch. But the ridiculous introduction of Margot heartthrob Vincent Perez, here as a transsexual named Viviane, stops this Train in its tracks.

-- Scott Heller