Arnaud Desplechin

Seasonal family gatherings are a prime cinematic arena for dramatic dysfunction. There's nothing like a holiday reunion, it seems, to get a fractious clan in the mood for bad behavior and heartwarming catharsis. On paper, Arnaud Desplechin's "A Christmas Tale" (2008) -- in which an extended middle-class French family comes together for a round robin of brusque confessions, drunken accusations and general acting out -- would seem to offer more of the same. But in fact -- and this is key, since the gifted Desplechin is nothing if not a maximalist -- it offers much, much more.

Seasonal family gatherings are a prime cinematic arena for dramatic dysfunction. There's nothing like a holiday reunion, it seems, to get a fractious clan in the mood for bad behavior and heartwarming catharsis. On paper, Arnaud Desplechin's "A Christmas Tale" (2008) -- in which an extended middle-class French family comes together for a round robin of brusque confessions, drunken accusations and general acting out -- would seem to offer more of the same. But in fact -- and this is key, since the gifted Desplechin is nothing if not a maximalist -- it offers much, much more.

When Nora Cotterelle (Emmanuelle Devos) first glides into view in Arnaud Desplechin's sprawling and exuberant "Kings and Queen," you almost feel as though she's wafted in on the strains of "Moon River," floating in the Parisian spring air like some flowery perfume. In fact, she's just stepped out of a taxi, and paused in front of the art gallery she runs to fill us in on the significant events in her life so far.

Nothing can sound more familiar, or more banal, than the subject of "A Christmas Tale," yet nothing could be more energizing, more captivating, more pure pleasure on screen than the passionate, evocative experience that has resulted. It is Christmas weekend in the French provincial town of Roubaix, and three generations of a family are gathering under one roof to, yes, celebrate the holiday and endure each other.

Although he prefers to conduct an interview outside to allow some tres francais cigarette smoking, writer and director Arnaud Desplechin does not come across as either enfant terrible or agent provocateur, the two default modes for branding Gallic filmmakers on these shores. His films are mix-tape concoctions of drama and comedy, blending with head-spinning ease such disconnected topics as family dynamics and arms dealing, or philosophy and philandering.

Nothing can sound more familiar, or more banal, than the subject of "A Christmas Tale," yet nothing could be more energizing, more captivating, more pure pleasure on screen than the passionate, evocative experience that has resulted. It is Christmas weekend in the French provincial town of Roubaix, and three generations of a family are gathering under one roof to, yes, celebrate the holiday and endure each other.

The holidays, no surprise, always bring forth a surge of holiday-themed movies, but there has never been one quite like this. I know, nothing can sound more familiar, or more banal, than the subject of this film by French director Arnaud Desplechin, yet nothing could be more energizing, more captivating, more pure pleasure on screen.

The exquisite yet demanding "Esther Kahn" is one of the most unusual and persuasive explorations of the flowering of an actor. It unfolds in a low-key manner in the mind of its title character, for whom life does not become real until she discovers the theater. It is also a superbly evoked period piece set in London at the turn of the 20th century, where Esther (Summer Phoenix) grows up in grim, industrial East End as one of four children of a poor Jewish immigrant tailor (Laszlo Szabo).

Film fans, it's time to get your passports stamped. When the AFI Fest begins Thursday night, it will kick off 11 days of screenings and events that will bring some of the best films from the international festival circuit here to Los Angeles, including highlights and award winners from Berlin, Cannes, Toronto and smaller fests around the globe.

In "A Christmas Tale," French director Arnaud Desplechin's bittersweet deconstruction of the home-for-the-holidays drama, Catherine Deneuve plays the hands-off matriarch Junon, who may not live to say "Joyeux Noel" again. She and her husband (Jean-Paul Roussillon) are used to crises. They lost the first of their three sons in infancy.

When Nora Cotterelle (Emmanuelle Devos) first glides into view in Arnaud Desplechin's sprawling and exuberant "Kings and Queen," you almost feel as though she's wafted in on the strains of "Moon River," floating in the Parisian spring air like some flowery perfume. In fact, she's just stepped out of a taxi, and paused in front of the art gallery she runs to fill us in on the significant events in her life so far.

Although he prefers to conduct an interview outside to allow some tres francais cigarette smoking, writer and director Arnaud Desplechin does not come across as either enfant terrible or agent provocateur, the two default modes for branding Gallic filmmakers on these shores. His films are mix-tape concoctions of drama and comedy, blending with head-spinning ease such disconnected topics as family dynamics and arms dealing, or philosophy and philandering.

In the latest James Bond thriller, "Quantum of Solace," opening today, Agent 007 is pitted against a most unusual adversary. Just don't tell French actor Mathieu Amalric ("The Diving Bell and the Butterfly") that his character is the bad guy. "Dominic Greene is a great guy," enthused the 43-year-old Amalric, over the phone from London before the film's premiere. "He has a big concern for environmental issues. He wants to help poor people to find their land again. He doesn't understand why Bond is looking for him!"

"Late August, Early September" is involving and intimate as only other people's lives deftly observed can be. An insightful film that takes us on a nuanced emotional journey with a group of friends trying to make sense of the romantic choices they've made, it has the sympathy and psychological acuity we've come to recognize as the hallmark of French cinema at its best.