Olivier Assayas is the guy who, with Demonlover, made an S&M fantasy whereby Connie Nielsen was exiled to a fate of being tortured in a leather catsuit, and yet still came out of it with art-house cred, so I have to respect the guy. Clean still manages to make time for a lipstick lesbian subplot that has nothing to do with anything, but chiefly it’s a fine showcase for Maggie Cheung, who manages to hold together the poles of her character as bad-luck drug-addled loser and once and future singing star.
Assayas, like Sofia Coppola and Alejandro Inarritu, has an abiding interest in global village culture, and successfully portrays grey Vancouver suburbs, Parisian restaurant kitchens and record company offices as part of the same queasy-making dream. Cheung and Nick Nolte as her father-in-law are delightful as the heart and soul of the story – a line Nolte delivers to Cheung late in the film almost made me cry – and almost compensate for Assayas’ rambling screenplay littered with clunky dialogue.
