adolescence

Tout est parfait (Everything Is Fine)

Tout est par­fait (Everything Is Fine) (Director: Yves Christian Fournier): I’d read some strong reviews of this film a few months back and was looking for­ward to checking it out. The premise is intriguing: Josh (Maxime Dumontier) is a typ­ical teen­ager living in a suburb in Québec. He has a group of friends with whom he skate­boards and parties. Then one day he finds the body of his friend Thomas, who’s hanged him­self in his room. The recent sui­cide of his friend Sasha still fresh in his mind, he’s sent reeling when he real­izes that Alex and Simon, the others in his group of pals, have also killed them­selves. He’s been left out of their pact, and he’s sud­denly very alone.

His only con­nec­tions to the friends he’s lost are Henri, Thomas’s lay­about father, and Mia, the ex-girlfriend of Sasha. In the already insular world of teenage boys, he cuts him­self even fur­ther off from his ter­ri­fied par­ents, and stone­walls the coun­selor he’s required to see at school. Only with Mia does he seem to forget the inex­plic­able tragedy, indul­ging in the crush he’d har­boured for a long time, though not without guilt. With Henri, he tries to bond over golf, a sport he doesn’t really like, but one with which Henri had always tried to interest Thomas, without suc­cess. Other than that, we don’t really get to know Josh at all, and even less about his friends, even though there are some flash­backs as he revisits old haunts.

The pace of the film is incred­ibly slow, and there is very little dia­logue to help flesh out the char­ac­ters. We see glimpses of Josh with each of his friends, but there is very little sense of what made them such a tight-knit group. The mys­tery of why Josh is still here is there­fore not of as much interest as it should be, and when it is “solved” at the end of the film, it comes both too sud­denly and too late. Even so, the sense­less­ness of the sui­cides is never dis­turbed by any kind of explan­a­tion. The reasons the boys took their lives are in the end as unknow­able as the boys them­selves, which, com­bined with the gla­cial pacing of the film, made it a bit of a frus­trating exper­i­ence for me. The ending redeems the film a little, along with some fine cine­ma­to­graphy and a great soundtrack.

Note: This DVD from Alliance Atlantis is primarily a French release. It does have English sub­titles, though every sound effect and action seems to be sub­titled as well, which made for some snick­ering each time the coun­selor was reduced to <sighing>. Additionally, the spe­cial fea­tures, including a com­mentary from the dir­ector and writer, are avail­able in French only.

7/10(7/10)

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Entre les murs (The Class)

Entre les murs (The Class) (Director: Laurent Cantet): I’d been waiting to see this ever since it took the Palme d’Or at Cannes earlier this year. It was sup­posed to play at TIFF and then the New York Film Festival scooped it, so as far as I’m aware, this was the Canadian premiere of this film, and there was plenty of pent-up demand, with lines snaking down the street out­side the Isabel Bader Theatre. It didn’t hurt that the tickets were free, since the film opened the 4th annual Eh! U European Film Festival. This fest­ival offers two weeks of free screen­ings, so be sure to check out the rest of the lineup.

The film has an inter­esting back­story. Entre les murs (lit­er­ally “between the walls”) was ori­gin­ally the title of an “auto­bi­o­graph­ical novel” by Francois Begaudeau, a teacher of French in one of Paris’ tough “ban­lieues”. Director Cantet recruited Begaudeau to play him­self in a dramat­iz­a­tion of the book, using real junior high stu­dents to recreate the multi-racial envir­on­ment of the classroom. The stu­dents col­lab­or­ated with Cantet and Begaudeau and work­shopped the film in rehearsals for months before shooting began. Although the film has the look and feel of a doc­u­mentary, nothing was entirely spon­tan­eous. It’s a remark­able achieve­ment, expressing all the power of doc­u­mentary while main­taining some dra­matic and cine­ma­to­graphic conventions.

One thing that keeps the ten­sion high is the fact that we never leave the school itself. The film covers an entire school year, and we stay mostly with M. Marin (Begaudeau) as he con­fers with fellow teachers, meets with par­ents and of course, attempts to teach in the mael­strom of his classroom. His charges range from ages 13–15 and are from all sorts of cul­tural back­grounds (Morocco, Tunisia, Mali, China and the Caribbean are all rep­res­ented). As a teacher of French, he’s teaching more than just lan­guage, but also what it means to be French. His stu­dents push back in every way ima­gin­able. Not only are they gen­er­ally unruly, but they don’t approve of his teaching methods or his insist­ence on teaching them things like the imper­fect sub­junctive, which they feel is from “the Middle Ages.” Although he presents him­self as one of the more “pro­gressive” teachers, his exas­per­a­tion grows over time until he lashes out verbally at two stu­dents, which leads to a phys­ical con­front­a­tion with another. Cantet’s claus­tro­phobic camera helps you under­stand Marin’s rage. He feels as trapped in the school as his stu­dents, except that he’s out­numbered and no one will listen to him.

Classrooms are like petri dishes of society in gen­eral, and Entre les murs does a fine job of poking and stir­ring the dish just enough to pro­voke some real drama. But best of all were the small moments of grace, when we get to see the little vic­tories, not so much for Marin, but for his stu­dents. Two things stuck with me after watching the film. First, that teaching is hard work; and second, that young people are end­lessly cap­able of sur­prising us.

Official site of the film
Trailer

9/10(9/10)

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Water Lilies (Naissance des Pieuvres)

Water Lilies (Naissance des Pieuvres) (2007, Director: Céline Sciamma): I ori­gin­ally wrote about this film way back in August 2007, anti­cip­ating its screening at TIFF. For some reason, I wasn’t able to see it then, so when I saw it in the Cinéfranco lineup, I vowed not to miss it again. And I’m so glad that I didn’t. Céline Sciamma’s dir­ect­orial debut is a deeply affecting and beau­tiful film about adoles­cence: body image, hor­mones, self-esteem, friend­ship, loy­alty, crushes, sexual con­fu­sion, con­formity. Though it’s never “about” any of these, it says a lot about them. But it’s not a film of grand ges­tures. Instead, it’s a very small, very per­sonal film that res­on­ates well beyond its seem­ingly narrow scope.

It’s summer in an unnamed French suburb. Skinny undeveloped tomboy Marie (Pauline Acquart) goes to the local pool to see her chubby friend Anne (Louise Blachère) per­form in a syn­chron­ized swim­ming event. While there, she is mes­mer­ized by the cap­tain of the team, gor­geous blonde Floriane (Adele Haenel). She develops a major crush that becomes an obses­sion, and aban­dons Anne to pursue Floriane. Insinuating her­self into Floriane’s life by doing favours, she is soon able to watch the team prac­tice and even travel to per­form­ances with them. Though it’s obvious that Marie has romantic feel­ings for Floriane, she is unable to say any­thing for fear of rejec­tion. Instead, she lets Floriane use her to sneak out of the house to meet boys, causing Marie no end of anguish. Meanwhile, Anne has fallen hard for one of the boys on the water polo team, even though he’s des­per­ately trying to bed Floriane him­self. Floriane is just enough of a cypher to cause heartache every­where she goes, using her flir­ta­tious­ness as a defence mech­anism to hide her own sexual con­fu­sion and fear. Though this leaves Marie con­fused and heart­broken, she dis­plays a core of tough­ness that will carry her through. Her friend­ship with Anne is also deeper than it first appears, and the two out­siders by the end seem much stronger than the sup­posed “normal” pretty girl.

The set­ting among a team of syn­chron­ized swim­mers is a stroke of genius. Back in the fall, I read a few reviews of the film, and I can’t remember where I read it, but I’m stealing the idea non­ethe­less. A critic stated that syn­chron­ized swim­ming was the per­fect meta­phor for adoles­cence. Smiling and beau­tiful on the sur­face, but under the water, legs churning like mad to stay afloat. I also liked the idea that, like gym­nasts or ballet dan­cers, there is one par­tic­ular body type that is required, and anyone else is rejected. The hair and makeup also make the swim­mers indis­tin­guish­able, since they are all expected to func­tion as part of a greater entity, almost mech­an­ical in its pre­ci­sion. It’s obvious that Marie and Anne don’t fit into this world, but they are mag­net­ic­ally drawn to it anyway. The absence of any adults or any spe­cifics that would place the story into a par­tic­ular time help to rein­force the insu­larity of this time in their lives, and there­fore its intensity.

As I said in my pre­view, the film reminded me a lot of Lukas Moodysson’s Show Me Love (1998), and there is even a phys­ical resemb­lance between the two female pair­ings. Just as in that film, the dir­ector handles the del­icacy of first love with great sens­it­ivity, and focuses on how the tiniest of actions or ges­tures can have great sig­ni­fic­ance. Sciamma coaxes incred­ibly brave per­form­ances from her three young actors, and the cine­ma­to­graphy rein­forces how beauty is intens­i­fied by vul­ner­ab­ility. Though it’s a hoary old cliché, since this is a first film, there is most def­in­itely a lot of Céline Sciamma’s own exper­i­ence on the screen. I’m des­per­ately hoping she has a lot more to say.

Trailer
Official Site
Interview with dir­ector Céline Sciamma

9/10(9/10)

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Rocket Science

by James McNally on March 3, 2008

in DVD

Rocket Science

Rocket Science (2007, Director: Jeffrey Blitz): This first fic­tional fea­ture from the dir­ector of Oscar-nominated doc Spellbound sounded prom­ising. Fifteen-year-old Hal Hefner (Reece Daniel Thompson) tries to over­come his painful stutter by joining the high school debate squad, spurred by the pres­ence of the lovely but fast-talking Ginny Ryerson (Anna Kendrick). I’m no stranger to the high school nerd makes good comedy, and con­sider myself a fan, so it’s a little dis­ap­pointing to have to give this film a so-so review. The problem for me was that I’ve seen this movie done better else­where. In fact, the plot is more than a little sim­ilar to Thumbsucker (2005), Mike Mills’ fea­ture debut about a teen­ager who tries to over­come another “han­dicap” (sucking his thumb) by, among other things, joining the high school debate squad. There’s even a phys­ical resemb­lance between that film’s star, Lou Taylor Pucci, and the sim­il­arly treble-monikered Reece Daniel Thompson. But Thumbsucker was based on a novel by Walter Kirn, and felt more ambi­tious, not to men­tion being funnier.

It’s not that Rocket Science isn’t like­able. There is some genuine humour and it’s hard not to root for Hal. But the stut­tering isn’t just Hal’s problem. The nar­rative itself seems to pro­ceed in fits and starts, and by the end, nothing has really happened. Hal has sup­posedly “found his voice” but he really hasn’t. We’re not really sure whether the debating thing is going to con­tinue, and we’ve never really seen him do his stuff in front of a crowd. The only hint that he’s actu­ally put any work into the research (and his attempts to woo Ginny) are a series of pretty standard mont­ages. I wanted to know what they were talking about. To make things worse, there’s a voi­ceover that bor­ders on unbear­able. It’s not clear whether this is the adult Hal reflecting on his youth, or some all-wise over­seer who knows it’s all going to work out. Either way, it was trite and annoying. And while Hal emerges as the most com­plete char­acter, no one else in the film is fleshed out in any way, with his par­ents being the most glaring absence. Unfortunately, many of the other char­ac­ters in the film are nothing more than quirky stereotypes.

Rocket Science is a film that is both familiar and unpre­dict­able, and while this ten­sion could have been a strength, it ended up frus­trating me instead. If I recall cor­rectly, the story is a little bit auto­bi­o­graph­ical, since dir­ector Jeffrey Blitz him­self suf­fers from a stutter. I wish that he had trusted more in his own exper­i­ence and maybe given us a film that didn’t try to play for laughs so much. If he had stripped away a few of the more gim­micky touches and given us a more per­sonal film, I think I would have enjoyed it more.

Buy Rocket Science from Amazon.ca

Buy Rocket Science from Amazon.com

6/10(6/10)

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The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters

The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (2007, Director: Seth Gordon): I missed this at SXSW last year but have been hearing great things about it ever since. Despite the unwieldy title (why not just “The King of Kong”?), Gordon’s film is a crowd-pleasing tale of good and evil in the geeky world of retro video­games. It reminded me quite a bit of Darkon (review) (a film about live-action role playing gamers), but without some of the self-deprecation. These guys take their hobby extremely ser­i­ously. But as in Darkon, the set up involves two very dif­ferent per­son­al­ities: for lack of better terms, the bully and the underdog.

Billy Mitchell is the guy who set the Donkey Kong record back in the 1980s, while a teen­ager, and he’s grown up milking that “fame” for all it’s worth, building up a hot-sauce “empire” and opening a res­taurant. He has the swagger of a motiv­a­tional speaker and isn’t remotely aware of how com­ical his per­sona comes across to anyone not in his circle of gamer fan­boys. Like the jock in high school, he’s built his whole life around some­thing he accom­plished as a teen­ager. Many people tried and failed to beat Billy’s high score. And then along came Steve Wiebe. Blank to Billy’s brash, Wiebe has the stolid demeanour and look of Al Gore or Troy Aikman, without their achieve­ments. We hear about all the talent he showed as a young man, and then how he’s repeatedly failed to live up to his poten­tial. His pur­suit of the Donkey Kong record becomes a sort of Holy Grail for him and his family. He feels that if he can just be the best at some­thing, any­thing, then he’ll have the con­fid­ence to take on the world. He’s a decent guy, a little shy, and reluctant to force a con­front­a­tion. But when his record-breaking game is dis­al­lowed by Twin Galaxies, a group of ostens­ibly impar­tial “ref­erees” with a strong con­nec­tion to Mitchell, he resolves to claim the record at any cost.

He travels to a game com­pet­i­tion on the east coast so he can attempt to break the record “live” (he’d mailed his pre­vious attempt on video­tape, a common prac­tice among video­gamers) and is eager for a face to face chal­lenge with Mitchell. But like Achilles sulking in his tent (and with the same vul­ner­able heel), Mitchell refuses to engage Wiebe. Instead, he sends his own video­tape, and the gathered group of gamers actu­ally sit and watch that rather than wit­ness Wiebe’s live attempt.

I won’t spoil the story except to say that even after the film’s end, the battle is con­tinuing. The King of Kong is an enter­taining exam­in­a­tion of a sub­cul­ture many of us may remember, even if its con­tinued exist­ence is based on nos­talgia and arrested devel­op­ment, as well as of two men’s struggles with what it means to be a “winner”. I just wish some of the people I found myself laughing at had the ability to share the joke.

The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters

Official web site

Buy The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters from Amazon.ca

Buy The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters from Amazon.com

8/10(8/10)

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