The cinematic year of 1994 might carry varying degrees of weight a quarter of a century later. The visceral landscape, our resonating view of film, may or may not have aged rather well looking back. But, oh, how we wish we could just look at the movies without idiosyncratic revelations and social discourse steaming up our glasses. We can’t just appreciate the art. Loving cinema just can’t be that easy any more.
In 1994, just a year prior to winning his first of two acting prizes at the Academy Awards, The Usual Suspects victor, Kevin Spacey, was having a blinding year. Appearances in Iron Will, The Ref and Swimming with Sharks continued to align him on our radars.
Someone to watch. Someone to admire. Someone who would make many a ‘my favourite actor’ lists over the ensuing decades. That name on those very lists has dwindled in the last couple of years as his own career dismissed itself in the wind like a falling house of cards.
1994 was also a fine filmic year for the well-established writer-director Woody Allen. As well as a TV venture with Don’t Drink the Water, the native New Yorker made Bullets over Broadway. A successful period comedy that more than fluttered the self-appreciation of the filmmaker in its depiction of struggling artists.
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Bullets Over Broadway also cast limited shadows of infidelity and headstrong women. Silhouettes that had to linger during a turbulent time in the 58 year-old’s personal life. Two years prior, there was a sexual misconduct allegation from a 7 year-old, and those nude photos of a young woman 35 years his junior. Both adoptive daughters of his now former partner. Feel like watching Manhattan?
Okay, well 1994 was a flourishing year for film director Roman Polanski. Making Gross Fatigue, and acting in the compelling Giuseppe Tornatore thriller, A Pure Formality.
The Polish fugitive was still making films from afar, unable to return to the United States of course, since Jack Nicholson lent him his house keys in 1978. Polanski wasn’t even allowed to attend the Academy Awards in 2003 when the majority honoured him with the Best Director prize for The Pianist.
Remember when the forceful Harvey Weinstein went with the child rapist marketing to try and prevent that? Talk about the oafish pot calling the disgraced kettle black.
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Meanwhile, in France, Luc Besson was propelled into the movie mainstream for many with Léon: The Professional in 1994. A slick, stylish, sumptuous work of art. Good, we’re appreciating cinema again. Léon was the cornerstone of a filmmaker finely tuned in the technical aesthetic of movies. And any like me, who were enamored by this frenetic director following Subway, The Big Blue and La Femme Nikita, this was an exciting time.
Those music cues, with the film scored by Eric Serra, displayed a bubbling rhythm throughout. The bong-bong-cling of the exhilarating intro to this “serious” enigmatic hitman. Or the melodic lullaby-esque tones as we are introduced to Mathilda, smoking a cigarette no less. And the film’s familiar orchestral and melancholic theme, that often signals ensuing danger. Those subtly swirling, stirring strings as Mathilda ambles beyond her former home and massacred family to her only salvation – Léon.
Léon, truth be told, is still a movie full to the brim with memorable, mesmerising moments. The shift of sound design as Léon brings the knife to a guy’s throat, and returns when he disappears back into the darkness. His conscience kicking in as the music hum halts, before he can instinctively follow through with his compel to shoot Mathilda in her sleep. That Russian roulette scene is particularly tense too.
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There are perfectly cued comic moments (as a haphazard crook shoots the glass behind the hunched over old lady taking objections to neighborly disturbance). But it is the more endearing moments that stand out amidst the thrills and suspense. Mathilda trying to impress pop culture on the bemused Léon by impersonating the likes of Charlie Chaplin or, mercifully, Gene Kelly. And that pig oven mitt is clearly a crowd-pleaser.
As their relationship blossoms – can we say blossoms? – the contrasting worlds are both hard to imagine as well as ignore. We’ve all heard of the tales Pygmalion and Lolita, and both are echoed here. Perhaps depending on where you stand.
Mathilda has nobody in the world following the violent demise of her familial clan. And the finely-tuned, but socially awkward, Léon has little concept of companionship. His protective urges when she is talking to a youth on the street, or her wanting to play ‘shooting people’ with him, reflect a troubled yearning no matter how you spin the coin.
But you kind of have to wonder if there is any correlation between, say, fictionally executing a potential child burden and the inability in real life to wipe a personal relationship with a 12 year-old from your memory. Or how fine is that line between the over-bearing father figure and the green-eyed monster of a much older lover? Can we just appreciate the cinematic embrace of a girl dressing as Marilyn Monroe and Madonna, or are we all too preoccupied with how we’re sexualising children?
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Art imitating life has become a household reminder of the link between directors and predators. And I just want to enjoy Léon like I used to. Like we all did. It’s understandable that Natalie Portman’s mother insisted that Luc Besson alter parts of the screenplay because of the sexual implications. Personally, I wouldn’t want either of my little children firing a gun, hanging out with a professional killer, cursing or talking frankly about wanting to kill herself.
The character of Mathidla is trouble, no denying that. But generally she does as she is told. Which is quite an achievement for Léon, who knows little about it, given the turbulent parenting she previously received.
When she claims she is falling in love with him, the poor man is out of his depth. The talk of love is not heavily romantic in the adult sense, rather a new sensation for a child who has hardly felt the greatest emotion in her rough upbringing. And for a grown man who has trained himself to be devoid of feelings of that kind. That those inescapable human emotions creeping up on you ought to be a glorious one, even if it is a comparably terrifying one for our protagonists. Or most of us.
The film, Léon: The Professional, we all know is a story of a damaged 12-year-old girl and the introverted Italian hitman (played by Jean Reno). A renegade, proficient fighting force that Besson dappled with both prior (Nikita) and beyond (Lucy). Both Mathilda and Léon have that survival instinct and have walked seemingly barefoot over a gritty road.
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Of course, the film has evolved problematically given that the young girl is apparently in love with the older man. Inspired in many ways by Besson’s own relationship with actress and film director, Maïwenn – and she has openly spoke of it.
Maïwenn was pretty well-known in France when she acted as a child and into her teen years. She also was forthcoming about the somewhat controlled environment from her fame-hungry mother.
It has to be said, and without attempting to defend what has gone before, that the romantic relationship between Maïwenn and Luc Besson didn’t transpire until she was 15. The European variations on spouse laws, though, might be neither here nor there when you have to account for the fact that Besson was 32. At 16 years-old, Maïwenn gave birth to their daughter. Léon didn’t exactly get Mathilda pregnant, but still.
Besson didn’t regain back any of his former glory by later leaving Maïwenn for another young actress, Milla Jovovich (then dipping her toes in her 20s). Those snippets of Maïwenn (the operatic blue alien) cut from The Fifth Element (1997) overlapping Leelo (Jovovich) kicking ass may or may not be significant in those turn of events.
Luc Besson had another actress lined up to play the singer for The Fifth Element, but they vanished and Maïwenn stepped in. She had said she simply didn’t want to mix business and pleasure – that is, preferred not to work with Besson while they were personally involved. A problem that would resolve itself, then. No way Léon drops Mathilda for another assistant.
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Léon: The Professional, back in 1994, was about as good as it got for Luc Besson, and his fans. And in the real world, the French filmmaker would face sexual assault allegations. Most notably from actress, Sand Van Roy, who featured in the latest Besson efforts, Anna and Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets. Harassment accusations came from more than just Van Roy though – eight other women are on record.
Meanwhile, Maïwenn always had high praise for the talent of the man behind the camera. That he was methodical and had contempt for actors. Even how they parted, and his opposing her putting her own money into what would be a feature film debut. He said she was crazy. She said he was supportive. Right.
Maïwenn’s Pardonnez-moi (2006) turned out rather successful, including a couple of César Awards nominations. Being recognised for Most Promising Actress and Best First Film doesn’t make you crazy. The woman with a camera is a powerful image, though.
Maïwenn’s biggest film as a director came in 2011 with Polisse – this time 13 César nods and a Jury Prize win at the Cannes Film Festival. The actress played a photographer embroiled with the Paris Child Protection Unit of the police force. An edgy, documentary-style film, Polisse investigated social decay, emotion strains of work and the interrogation of suspected child abusers.
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In a brief cameo as a hooker, Maïwenn had also appeared in Léon: The Professional. Back when we knew little of the behind the scenes relations. Or indeed what would follow. Somewhere out there with the aid of hindsight, the slick, stylish 1994 film was referred to as Léon: The Peadophile. Or maybe they mean Luc.
Are we even allowed to hail Léon as one of the very great movies of the 1990s? Can we say, without doubt, that Luc Besson demonstrated a unique brand of adrenaline-fueled filmmaking? Do we even watch Léon now without our pure enjoyment being tainted by the real world? Are we to assume that if art reflects reality that Besson may also be a professional killer and can’t read too well? Why aren’t we embracing Mathilda’s perspective?
I can still love Léon: The Professional as much, if not more so, than I did when I first saw it. The viewing experience just comes with a certain discomfort in places. And not much that can be altered by switching seats or changing pants.
Claiming that Léon is somewhat child-like himself doesn’t shy away from the facts. But the character of Mathilda is far too complex and engaging to just pawn the whole thing of as perverted. There’s growth, there’s companionship, there’s welcoming affections with open arms.
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When Mathilda thinks Léon is cool (as we would too), this strikes him as some form of acceptance and recognition. From the perspective of pure human attention, Léon appears briefly gratified as someone who is not just a man paid rather well for taking clinical jobs.
Léon is full to the brim with emotive moments. Perhaps some pump from the heart, some from the gut. He does even ask her age in one scene. And though Mathilda is often clad in just a white vest and shorts, this does also give off the vibe of her already established boyishness – and even asexual.
Those alcohol-infused burps and giggles in the restaurant are adorable. And a telling reminder of Mathilda’s true developmental state. Sure, they share a bed at some point, but that allows her to discover that Léon has imperfections like the rest of us. And the fact he snores also shows a personal growth. That he can now sleep on his back in a bed instead of being propped up in a chair all night long.
One of the Léon‘s very finest moments comes when the loner has to either choose to open the door and allow the sobbing Mathilda in, or leave her to be likely discovered and murdered with the rest of her family. But more significantly, Léon would begin the grand step of breaking down so many walls he has spent years and years assembling.
Let’s not forget Mathilda found an outlet for her frustrations, was given impetus for survival and formed an undeniable bond. Were he alive today, Léon would unequivocally say that Mathilda was the best thing that ever happened to him. We are so relieved Luc Besson allowed him to open that door. Or at least I am.
Léon: The Professional is available to stream now on Amazon.
