THE VOICE OF CHICAGO'S GAY, LESBIAN, BI, TRANS AND QUEER COMMUNITY SINCE 1985

Lauren briefly meets the teenaged Lucie, who lives with her mother and younger brother in a suburb of Paris, via a reality show. Lucie finds herself the recipient of one of those dreadful Candid Camera moments when, without warning, the camera turns and there is the diva herself singing one of her maudlin dance hits directly to Lucie at her home. Overwhelmed by the presence of her obsession, Lucie sensibly bursts into tears and locks herself in the bathroom. Even a personal entreaty by Lauren can't convince her to come out, so the film crew decamps. After regaining her equilibrium, Lucie heads for Paris to apologize and try to regain the brief moment of intimacy that Lauren has tantalized her with.

Soon, the determined young lass has talked her way into Lauren's suite of rooms at a posh Paris hotel and finds herself fetching and carrying for the star. Lucie has arrived at an opportune moment—Lauren, whose career is obviously built on her stunning beauty rather than her singing ability—is in deep mourning over the end of her affair with the beautiful, dark-eyed stunner Daniel ( Samuel Benchetrit ) , and nothing can shake her blues. But Lucie the oddball, with her innocence and willingness to experiment, offers a distraction. There's a nude swimming-pool sequence in which it seems the two women will make love, and the other characters talk about Lauren's free-ranging sexual tastes; however, the hints of lesbianism are just teases. It's really Daniel who Lauren wants and Lucie, being a true fan, decides on a course of action that she thinks will bind her to her diva forever.

The dialogue offers exchanges like this between Lucie and Daniel discussing Lauren: 'My love was pure before. Now it's like a drug.' Moreover, the many mournful, glossy, pop-dance ballads that Lauren performs ( Seigner did her own singing ) have lyrics like 'Show me one more time the path I know to indigo happiness' and 'Beneath the velvety apricot I saw you, white as snow.' The movie, co-written and directed by Emmanuelle Bercot, wants to attempt a serious examination of the odd relationship between fan and celebrity and it has its moments of insight—especially in the reality-show parody at the film's outset—but mostly, the heavy approach helps elevate the movie into the camp arena. The serious approach is underlined by the look of the picture, which is shot in wintry whites; shades of gray; and black. Even that can't hide its true emotional hue—which most decidedly favors purple passion, hot pink and tamale red. In French with subtitles. www.landmarktheatres.com

The Oscar race is on ( winners will be announced on Sunday, Feb. 25, at 7 p.m. on ABC ) and one of the top contenders this year is Martin Scorsese's The Departed, which first hit theatres last fall. After both its surprise win at the Golden Globes and, now, a slew of Oscar nominations, it's no surprise the film has been re-released in theatres. Not having reviewed the movie in my column at the time of its original release, I thought I'd do so now.

In this corner we have Jack Nicholson, so delighted with his role of the dreadful, deadly Irish Mafia boss that he practically levitates in his scenes, and in this corner we have Leo DiCaprio, so intense and wound up that he nearly combusts. The battle of these two acting titans is the primary pleasure of The Departed, the movie that is being hailed as director Martin Scorsese's return to form. Brutal and drenched in blood with a body count that rivals any slasher picture The Departed is nevertheless a terrifically entertaining movie—albeit a tough, raw one. For Scorsese those mean streets are still very much alive.

The story focuses on the ongoing war between law enforcement and the Irish mob in Boston. Martin Sheen and Mark Wahlberg ( especially fine in a tough-talking performance that has garnered him an Oscar nod in the supporting category ) send DiCaprio undercover in an effort to finally get the goods on Frank Costello, the crime boss played by Nicholson. Costello's veneer of 'class' is dwarfed by a dreadful vulgarity and monstrous behavior. Lethal and street-smart, Costello has planted a rat of his own on the police force to protect his interests. Said rat is Matt Damon, whose golden boy good looks and resourcefulness have helped him to quickly rise within the ranks.

DiCaprio and Damon are put in the position of facing off against one another, although neither knows it and it is here that the tension—already palpable—rises to its thunderous, bloody climax. Scorsese provides multiple scenes that offer plenty of action along with moments of anxiety in which we see that both DiCaprio and Damon are being torn emotionally apart by their deceptions. Vera Farmiga does wonders with the movie's most clichéd role as the woman torn between the two men while Sheen and Alec Baldwin ( as a crazed FBI commander ) give Nicholson a run for his money in the acting competition.

The picture is set in the present and though cell phones with their differing ring tones play a large part in the plot, they're really just a nod to the present-day culture. This is classic Scorsese—right down to the Rolling Stones' Gimme Shelter and other rock songs on the soundtrack—and the movie could have taken place at any point in the last 40 years. It's nice to know that some things—like Scorsese movies—never really change.

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