My French Film Festival is back for a special lockdown outing and this time the films are free, having been on offer in previous outings of MyFFF. This was a great start for me, an 85 minute ‘comedy-drama’ with plenty of fresh ideas mixed in with familiar conventions and a central character well worth following on her adventures. The film is the début feature of French-Canadian director Éric Gravel who has made several short films and contributions to other features.
The title refers in a literal and possibly metaphorical way to Aglaé (India Hair) a young woman who suffered a dislocated childhood with her striptease artiste mother and absent father. She has found a job as a meticulous technician in a car crash test laboratory where she obsessively prepares the dummies. But the company has decided to move the entire factory ‘offshore’ and she finds herself with the prospect of redundancy unless she agrees to transfer to India. Aglaé decides to accept the challenge to the amazement of the company and, for different reasons, her two colleagues at the plant, Liette (Julie Dépardieu) and Marcelle (Yolande Moreau), agree to go with her. The company won’t pay the airfare so they set off in Marcelle’s battered old car. What follows is a familiar ‘road movie’ on a strange travel route that will take Aglaé through Switzerland, Germany, Poland Ukraine and Kazakhstan. Marcelle and Liette don’t have Aglaé’s fortitude and they bail out when they discover better possible futures. Aglaé will continue almost to the point of oblivion. Will she make it to India and if she does, what will she find there?
The narrative draws on a variety of genre repertoires and the resulting hybrid is both interesting and entertaining.The road movie provides the structure and the opportunities for ‘adventures’ and vignettes of characters Aglaé meets on her journey. There is a background narrative that relates to questions about globalisation and ‘offshoring’ and draws upon the strong repertoire of ‘industrial action’ stories. The three women who start the journey together have all got personal reasons for leaving for India, though one of them does have a direct link to the action by the plant’s union in fighting the management. Is this a comedy as well? Yes it certainly has comic moments. These grow out of the situations the trio find themselves in and the fact that they are each interestingly eccentric. In the latter part of the narrative Aglaé does face genuine hardship and at this point I did fear what might happen. It’s not too much of a spoiler to report that she does make it to Kolkata, but not without some pain and scares. Comedies are supposed to have happy endings (i.e. to distinguish them from tragedies) but the ending for this film still has some surprises.
What made the film for me was the writer-director’s imagination and the performances of the three women and especially India Hair. I realised that I had seen all three actors before but all in smaller roles. India Hair was born in France to English and American parents. She speaks standard English as well as French and this is necessary when she is travelling and when she gets to India. At the start of the film she looks ‘plain’ and at the end of her journey despite the various things that happen to her she looks very attractive and it genuinely feels that she has ‘come out of herself’. Oh and I forgot to mention she’s a cricketer! That bat is handy and she’ll certainly enjoy India.
The film is free to view and it makes a good diversion for those under lockdown (lots of fast car driving if you like that sort of thing). Here’s the trailer – you can turn the subs on for English. The film opens with a short scene and a voiceover statement by Aglaé. I immediately forgot this and didn’t realise what it meant until the final scenes. Structurally this makes much of the film a narrated flashback. Éric Gravel is a director I’ll look out for in future.
Director Olivier Masset-Depasse, who co-scripted with Giordano Gederlini and François Verjans (based on the novel Derrière la haine by Barbara Abel), delivers a delicious thriller that at least one review suggests is Hitchcockian. It certainly opens with a master class in misdirection as Alice (Veerle Baetens, who was also excellent in Broken Circle Breakdown), prepares a surprise for her close friend and neighbour Céline (Anne Coesens). The film’s set in early ’60s Brussels and the milieux can’t help referencing (for me at least) the television series Mad Men (US, 2007-15), particularly as there’s a passing resemblance between Baetens and January Jones, who played Betty. The set decoration (by Séverine Closset) is as immaculate as the bourgeois lifestyle of the two couples as are Thierry Delettre’s costumes. The period is further mimicked with the gorgeous cinematography, by Hichame Alouie, which could be mistaken for the Technicolor of the era.
It’s a thriller so a disruption of some violence is necessary but I won’t spoil that. Suffice to say the relationship between the two, who at the start are like loving sisters, changes. The film is impressive in how it presents the psychological pressures and responses to the situation; it is entirely convincing on how two people, who are very close, can suddenly become suspicious of each other. Jessica Kiang, in her Variety review, nails it when she describe the protagonists as ‘expressive but unreadable’: ideal performers to keep the audience guessing.
Where the film trumps Hitchcock is the focus is entirely on the women; the husbands are little more than marginal. While Hitchcock used his ‘ice cool’ blondes to investigate his idea of female sexuality, here the women as mothers have agency. The men spend their time failing to acknowledge difficulty or, in the case of one, abnegating all responsibility.
I’m surprised the film wasn’t released, as far as I can tell it was restricted to festival screenings, in the UK as the Mad Men-setting could have offered a cultural handhold for those reluctant to try out difference. Then again, UK’s insularity seems to be peaking (I won’t mention Brexit); one block of flats in Norwich had messages posted on doors demanding only English be spoken. Typically, there was a grammatical error in the message emphasising the poor education of the idiot who seems to think Britain is, and was, a great country.
Writer-directors Caroline Poggi and Jonathan Vinel won an award for their short As Long as Shotguns Remain (Tant qu’il nous reste des fusils à pompe, France, 2014) at the Berlin film festival and hence this, their feature debut, was greeted with interest. And the first part of the film is interesting, a dystopian future where orphans are treated like, and actually seem to be, homicidal maniacs and hunted down by the state. ‘Fortunately’ Jessica (Aomi Muyock, who starred in Gaspar Noé’s Love) is on hand to maternally protect them. If my summary sounds a bit facetious that’s probably due to my annoyance at the film’s failure to be convincing. Dystopias tend to be warnings about the present and the treatment of orphans, particularly those housed in institutions, can be highly problematic; in the UK many girls, in particular, find themselves in abusive situations. However Poggi and Vinel never convince me their society is a metaphor for anything.
Jessica’s orphans are all male and she is barely older than them (they are probably in their 20s) making her maternal role problematic at best. The boys are clearly hormonal and it’s barely convincing that none of the men would fancy her, and given their behaviour, not try to act upon their desire. It’s not until toward the end of the film that sex is treated as a key aspect of being young. Psychologically it’s simply not convincing and the ending doesn’t solve any of the narrative issues.
It’s also the first feature of cinematographer Marine Atlan and she comes out of the film with a lot of credit. Altan gives the settings, often middle class suburbia, a slightly ethereal feel which creates a sense of uncanny suitable to the dystopia. Muyock is adequate in the virtually silent main role but she isn’t given much material to work with. Sally Potter, speaking recently on Radio 3, stated that the script is the key element of film, the architecture on which everything is hung, and in the case of Jessica Forever, its lack of coherence meant the film was almost certain to fail.
I’m not sure why this 1997 film features in the 2020 My French Film Festival. It’s directed and part written by Jean-François Richet, a singular figure with an unusual career trajectory. The strange title makes use of the extended verlan (slang) spoken in les banlieues – the high-rise blocks built on the outskirts of Paris which by the late 1990s mainly housed the families of Maghrebis, Caribbeans and West Africans alongside white working-class families. ‘6T’ refers to the cités, the individual groups of high rises separated by open spaces. The overall title then refers to ‘my neighbourhood is cracking up’. The use of ‘crack’ may refer to the drug cultute as well as the sense of conflict. The film must in France have been compared with La haine (1995) which had caused such a stir a couple of years earlier. I’ll try to make some comments on the comparison later on.
Richet made an earlier film Inner City (1995) with a similar setting. It received praise as a first feature and seems to have been part self-financed. Ma 6T va crack-er by contrast had some major backing by French producers and funders such as Canal+ and was theatrically distributed by BAC. Richet later directed American films starting with a re-make of John Carpenter’s Assault on Precinct 13 (2005) before the major France-Canada production of the two Mesrine films in 2008, featuring Vincent Cassel and an all-star cast. I can’t find much about Richet online but his is an intriguing story in outline.
Ma 6T va crack-er was co-written with Richet’s younger cousin, Arco Descat C. who had also appeared in Inner City. The film focuses on the youth of a particular cité, both those still at school and the unemployed older youths in their early 20s. It begins with an incident in the local high school followed by various clashes with the police and and other groups of youths. For various reasons, these scenes are both similar to and very different from those in La haine. Firstly where Mathieu Kassovitz’s La haine focuses on three young men in their early 20s, Richet offers a much larger group of characters (and it becomes quite difficult to disentangle the relationships between them). Kassovitz decided to present his film in black and white (though it was shot in colour) and to use a highly stylised approach to cinematography and mise en scène. Richet’s film uses a more direct approach often with a hand-held camera and scenes seem much looser, leading some commentators to refer to an almost documentary style. There are also major differences in ideas about representations. Kassovitz creates a male narrative in which female characters are marginal at best. Richet doesn’t necessarily have more female characters but they ‘speak’ more assertively. The film opens with a credit sequence featuring Virginie Ledoyen (then something of a young star in French film and TV) dancing and posing with pistols against a backdrop of TV images of protest in les cités. She again appears later, non-diegetically ‘imposed’ over scenes of gang violence and protest. Later in the film one of the older youths approaches a young woman who he remembers from school. He asks her for a date and she gives him a lecture about the fact that she is tired after a hard day’s work whereas he does nothing all day. The message is clear. On the other hand, Richet’s male youths are more misogynistic in the ways in which they describe young women than the three young men in La haine.
The main ‘message’ of Richet’s film that has been picked out by the limited number of commentators online is its seeming sense of a political consciousness. During their long discussions, some gang members stress the need to work collectively and to align themselves with workers who have the strike as a weapon and therefore to have an impact on the ruling class. More of this kind of rhetoric is used in the raps delivered by musicians at an organised hip-hop event in the later stages of the film before a full-scale riot breaks out. There are suggestions (backed up by the end credits) that the film is presenting some kind of Marxist analysis of the state of unrest in les cités. This is slightly problematic for me because I’m relying on the subtitles which, as in the cinema version of La haine are mainly translated using American terms. For instance, ‘Cité’ in the dialogue is subtitled as ‘city’ rather than estate, neighbourhood etc.
Music, hip-hop/rap, is an important element of the film and Richet has said it informed the structure and the presentation of the film. ‘White & Spirit’ are credited with the film’s score which includes tracks from other performers some of whom I thought I recognised from La haine. Overall, I’m not sure what I make of this film. I’d like to know more about the production. It seems like Richet was able to mobilise a large number of local residents to play the youths. He also appears in the film himself. Valérie Le Gurun, the film’s DoP also worked on Inner City but in her later career she appears to have worked in TV or part of a camera team. Was she from the same background as Richet? Some of the roles, especially the school teachers, are played by experienced actors, but sometimes the film feels like a community-based production with full industry support. The budget was around £700,000. There is a sense of realism about many of the scenes, oddly heightened by the effect of a grainier image – shot on film, the footage is available online in SD (standard definition) rather than HD. But other aspects of the film seem more fantastical. At one point one of the youths fires a pistol at members of an opposing gang, but they are not ‘live’ bullets. Later on there is a pitched gun battle between two gangs but only one person is hit by what appear to be live bullets and he is carefully shot in the leg. Were the other shots simply a form of bravado? I’m no expert but cars are quickly destroyed and set on fire with their windows smashed by a few kicks.
The police in the film are equally as violent as the youths but because the film is almost plotless apart from the feud between the gangs there is no conventional narrative, no cause and effect for any actions. It may well be that the loosely shot scenes are closer to the reality of conflicts between police and youths in the cités than in more conventional narratives. Apart from La haine and episodes of the TV crime serial Engrenages, we don’t see many of the banlieue films, especially those by directors who are themselves from the banlieues, so it is difficult to judge. I did find the film interesting but I’d like to read more about the film if anyone has references for English language coverage. These kinds of conflict between youths and police flared up again in France in 2005 and the potential for such confrontation appears to still be present.
Here is a trailer. The film is available to rent or buy on YouTube.
This is a candidate for the standout film of My French Film Festival. It is one of the most beautiful films I’ve seen and also one of the saddest and most desperate despite a more optimistic tone towards the end of the narrative. As an animation it affected me as much as classics like Grave of the Fireflies (Japan 1988). There are many kinds of animated films but as far as drawn/painted animation is concerned, I would place French productions (linked to a graphic novel industry) alongside Japanese anime and manga.
The source here is a novel by ‘Yasmina Khadra’, the pseudonym of Mohammed Moulessehoul, an Algerian military man who chose to disguise his identity to avoid censure. The novel first appeared in 2002. The film adaptation is by two women, Zabou Breitman and Eléa Gobbé-Mévellec. Both women are credited as directors. Breitman is one of three writers who adapted the novel and Gobbé-Mévellec is the animator responsible for the overall graphic design and the ‘look’ of the film. I haven’t read the original novel but given the nature of the story, the gender shift in the control of the ‘voices’ of the characters would be worth exploring. (I’m referring here to the broader sense of how a character in a narrative can articulate how they feel rather than simply what they say.)
As the title suggests, the story is set in Kabul, but at a specific time between 1998 and 2001 when the Taliban occupied the Afghan capital that was reduced to ruins. They have imposed Sharia Law and are taking drastic action against anyone who attempts to flout the new restrictions on behaviour. The narrative focuses on two couples. Atiq is an older war veteran who has been made the gaoler of women condemned to die for lewd behaviour and other crimes. His wife Mussarat, the woman who nursed him after he was wounded, is now seriously ill. Zunaira is a young and very attractive teacher and artist who now rarely leaves the house because she cannot bear to wear a burqua. Her equally young husband Mohsen is also a teacher now despairing at what has happened to Kabul. Each of these four characters is attempting to come to terms with their situation and each finds that either they feel compelled to act in particular ways or that they attempt to do what they think is right only to discover that it leads to an unexpected and usually bad outcome.
I’ve seen some criticism that by focusing on an ‘academic’ couple, the story takes the kind of route that might be easiest for Western audiences, but this is balanced by the story of Atiq and Mussarat. In each case the couples meet others who offer different trajectories. Mohsen meets his old university teacher and Atiq meets a childhood friend and an elderly man – possibly the character who acts like a kind of wise man. The women meanwhile are caught between neighbours who look out for them and other women who seem to have become Taliban collaborators, acting as prison guards with their Kalashnikovs. The Taliban seem to revel in their own hypocrisy, lounging about with dancing girls behind closed doors and enforcing the social laws with violence. Everyone else is to some extent lost and bewildered.
There have been many narratives released in the West about what has happened in Afghanistan over the last 30-40 years. I don’t know which, if any, offer the most accurate representation – probably it isn’t possible. Many are stories created by exiles or Western observers. The ones I know best are those by the Iranian director Mohsen Makhmalbaf and especially by his daughter Samira. Both Mohsen and Samira have used elements of absurdity and surrealism as part of their approach. The most relevant comparison for The Swallows of Kabul is possibly Samira’s At Five in the Afternoon (Iran-France 2003), set immediately after the Taliban have been ousted by international forces. In that film a young woman, Noqreh, rebels against her conservative father and attends a school where she takes part in an election for ‘President’. I was struck by how in both her film and The Swallows of Kabul the two young women flout the strict dress code by wearing a pair of white court shoes with a low heel. Noqreh changes shoes as she moves from a Koranic school to the new school where women speak out. Zunaira wears her shoes defiantly, knowing she is asking for trouble. The shoes are the only ‘personal’ aspect of a woman’s appearance on the street – every woman wears the same burqua (though the children seem to recognise their mothers’ birqua when it is borrowed). The uniformity of the burqua-clad women is the other strong image I remember from the Iranian film and it is repeated in the still from The Swallows of Kabul in the image at the head of this post.
The strength of The Swallows of Kabul for me is in the approach to the animation style which I think works to create that sense of realism counterposed by surrealism. Much of the production process is explained in the Press Pack which is extremely useful. Zabou Breitman and Eléa Gobbé-Mévellec explain in some detail how the animation style developed. The animation house Les Armateurs, best-known internationally for The Triplets of Belleville and Ernest & Celestine were involved from the start but Zabou Breitman was convinced that she wanted a process that involved actors performing scenes first which would then be drawn, rather than voice actors adding dialogue to a conventional animation. Eléa Gobbé-Mévellec then provided the background ‘plates’ for the representation of the city and created the overall look of the film as a traditional 2D ‘drawn’ animation using brushwork and washes of colour. The filmed performances then led to a process similar too but distinct from rotoscoping which Breitman felt would be too ‘fluid’. The final result with the actors placed against the background offers a unique representation of Kabul under the Taliban. The dialogue is voiced by mainly French actors and I noted that Swann Arlaud appears as Mohsen, one of his three appearances in the My French Film Festival. Mussarat is voiced by the great Palestinian actor Hiam Abbass.
I really don’t understand why this film hasn’t got a UK release. It has appeared in festivals in the UK and is currently available (with English subs) for streaming on Curzon and also (at a lower price) on YouTube. Here’s a trailer with English subs.
School’s Out is an odd mix of elements, not helped by being saddled with a poor English language title. All that title means to me is an Alice Cooper song and the idea of an American school breaking up for summer and for some students ‘forever’. The French title is far more intriguing. I’m not a French speaker but it suggests to me the idea of ‘a specific time to leave’. The first scene in the film, when a teacher suddenly decides to leap from the second floor window of his school classroom, makes for a suspenseful start. What does his ‘leaving’ mean?
At some point I’m going to have to question how My French Film Festival selects the films it offers. This particular film was first shown at Venice in 2018 and it stars Laurent Lafitte, who was also in the first film I saw in the festival, Savage. I understand that Lafitte is a kind of celebrity actor in France, appearing on stage as a member of la Comédie Française as well as frequently in a wide range of French films. I realise that I have seen him before in several films, but not in leading roles so much. Added to Lafitte’s presence, this is an adaptation of a 2002 novel by Christophe Dufossé and it is directed by another novelist making his second feature film, Sébastien Marnier. The novel was published in English (with the same re-titling) and the book was described as a ‘thriller’. Dufossé suggests that Stephen King was an influence and reviews of the novel suggest a mixing of a teen/high school story and a thriller element. This also affects the film, but films can make generic references simply by reminding us of other films.
The film’s narrative opens much like the excellent French-Canadian film Monsieur Lazhar (Canada 2011), but with some significant differences – we see the moment of the jump, it is secondary school not a primary school and the substitute teacher arrives quickly and without much of an interview. Although what follows is a quite different story, there a still a few elements that stay the same – a teacher new to the school faced with a class being counselled for trauma. The students themselves seem about 14 or 15? One comforting sight for me is to see them (and their teachers) dressed in casual clothes and not school uniforms as in the UK.
The new teacher is Pierre, like his predecessor a man in early middle age. Laurent Lafitte was 45 when he made the film but his character announces he is 40. He discovers that the class he must take over is a select group of very high flyers. There are just 12 students and he soon discovers that they are already a year ahead in curriculum terms. One of the two leaders immediately challenges Pierre, asking why at 40 he is still a substitute teacher? The school itself is located in a large country house in a wealthy rural area. Reviews suggest this is meant to be an élite private school but there seems to be involvement from the local mayor and ‘city hall’. (I understand that ‘private’ schools contracted by the state exist in France.) What is important, however, is that the school values the high marks its ‘gifted students’ are likely to get in exams and is therefore prepared to be indulgent towards them. It seems odd, therefore, that Pierre is appointed without evidence of vetting.
It doesn’t take long for Pierre to recognise that six of the 12 stick very closely together and that the six includes the two class representatives at the weekly teachers meeting. After a few classroom incidents it’s likely that older film fans will recognise the narrative of The Midwich Cuckoos (aka The Village of the Damned, UK 1960) in which a group of alien children are born in a village and grow very quickly especially in terms of intelligence, with telepathic abilities. There is a sequence later in School’s Out when the threatening side of the group is cleverly used in thriller mode. Pierre finds himself in a classic situation, feeling he must spy on the students to discover what they are up to, but also aware that they are working on him and putting him under pressure. The other teaching staff seem less concerned about the student behaviour. I was also reminded at moments of the German film, The Wave (Die Welle, 2008) which again has a rather different storyline but shares the same starting point of a single teacher engaged with a class in a project with a basis in social psychology and group behaviour.
There is no point in spoiling the narrative and I’ve left plenty of interesting detail to uncover. The 2002 storyline has been updated and the real reason for the students’ behaviour arguably makes more sense in 2018 than it did in 2002. But that doesn’t mean that the plotting works. As some of the original novel reviewers suggest, the script seems unable to resolve what, in the most basic terms, the film is ‘about’. The more the thriller genre narrative takes hold, the stranger and more frustrating the school-based drama becomes. I don’t think we ever meet any of the parents of the six high flyers and the school’s headteacher seems only dimly aware of the potential trouble they might cause. The head is played by Pascal Greggory who also plays a similar kind of character in The Page Turner (La tourneuse de pages, France 2006) in which his wife, a musician, is psychologically undermined by a young woman. There are many potential sub-plots in School’s Out that might be explored – or might have been excised. I did enjoy watching the film but in the end I felt a little dissatisfied. It is available to buy or rent on Youtube. Here is the trailer (with English subs):
Such is the difficulty of tracking films via festival screenings that I’d forgotten that Nick reviewed this film on the blog when it appeared at the Leeds Film Festival in 2018. His take (much the same as mine) is here.