Archive for October, 2009

The Class (2008)

To begin with i thought this was a documentary. Or maybe a docu-drama. But not a film film. Too improvised to seem scripted.

Turns out the “story” was improvised from a whole year spent in this real school, this real classroom, with these real kids. Kind of being like themselves. Only more so. Accentuating a few salient attributes to act out “in character”.

It’s a multi-ethnic classroom; everyone is from somewhere else other than France: Mali, Morroco, China, Jamacia etc. They don’t know French too well (don’t know their pluperfects from their subjunctives). They’re mostly under-achieving misfits. Not delinquents exactly but, well – just not comfortably fitted in to white society, marginalised and made different by virtue of their ethnic diversity.

It’s not an easy film to watch cus it hasn’t got those Hollywood hooks that derive facile sentimentality from “inspirational” Teacher films; ala Robin Williams doing his charismatically charming schtick – and transforming a load of underachieving dimwits into perfect students. This film is far tougher than that. The kids aren’t especially likeable, the teacher isn’t especially inspiring. Or charismatic. He’s fallible. You watch him struggling to keep these dispirit adolescents interested and motivated. It’s hard work. It’s not easy. It doesn’t seem particularly rewarding.

I liked the film though. Cus it got me there. Got me into that classroom. Observing with fascination: the trials, troubles, and travails of being with such a chaotic bunch of misfits. But i was thinking to myself: Thank God i’m not teaching them!

Dir: Laurent Cantet, France

7/10

Leave a Comment

Le Chignon D’Olga

Mom has died. Life is going on, but not going on as well as it did. Julien won’t play piano anymore; Emma doesn’t love boys anymore; Dad can’t write his kids books anymore. Grief is surreptiously stymying the good for life in them.

Lucien has got the hots for a bookshop assistants “bun” (not her buns – her bun, her chignon) But she’s not going to be available. Who is available is Alice, his childhood best friend; who steals sweets, smokes and gets pissed, is fucking an unsuitable blonde tart of a boyfriend.

Lucien would be more suitable. We see that, we know that – but will they? They get on so easily and intimately with one another. And Lucien is such a nice sensitive lad; he buys a book of poems for his dad’s birthday for christ-sake! (Good to have a dad you could buy a book of poems for i was thinking – no, lamenting – to myself)

Some of the attempts at humour don’t always work; the scene where Lucien co-opts a family friend to help him pick up Olga is supposed to be deliberately contrived, farcical; but it comes across as being abit fake, the acting not up to Chaplinesque slapstick. Dad watches b/w Chaplin movies to absurdly cheer himself up too – all abit too obvious.

Overall it’s a nice watch. The acting is appealingly understated,  the direction seemingly nonchalent, minimalistic. The mood wryly melancholic.

Lucien and Alice finally get it on, go to bed together (as we always knew they would) As Alice lies sleeping, Lucien goes over and sits at the piano. Maybe the lovely lad will start playing again. Or maybe not.

Dir: Jerome Bonnell, France

7/10

Leave a Comment

Best Intentions (1992)

A chronicle of the difficult early  relationship of Ingmar Bergman’s parents – Henrik and Anna – in Sweden a century ago.

Anna’s mother intensely dislikes Henrik and wants to prevent then seeing one another: “You have deep and early wounds, beyond healing or consolation” she slams him with. Henrik’s mother loathes Anna: “Lord forgive me that i camnot love that girl”. They don’t only have matriachal opposition to their “association”; they appear to have a fundamental temperamental antipathy with one another: she’s a flighty, vivacious, capricious, Sanguine; he’s a dour, miserable, Melancholic. But they seemingly love one another (opposites attract and all that) and become fated to be sharing destiny come-what-may.

I don’t know about Henrik (Bergmans dad) There’s much to not like about him. A man riddled with flaws and inconsistencies. A pious man of the cloth who sleeps with both Anna and Frida (first fiancee). Has no sense of humour or fun, lacks spontaneity; Anna tries to get him to dance – he storms off, “I’m a great spoiler of games. That can’t be helped”. He’s a Misery Fetishist: “I’m best living on the extreme edge of the world” he laments after Anna has left him to go back to her moms.

You aren’t suprised that she leaves that Frozen North he has such a grim masochistic affinity with. You wonder why she loves him, or even needs him really. He needs her though: “He needs someone to like, so that he doesn’t have to hate himself so much” says first fiancee Frida.

Henry, you must forgive me” she saying, but considering he’s a Christian priest he doesn’t seem too keen on forgiveness: “I’ll never forgive you for this” he says… then he’s calling her “despicable” and  “spoilt” shouting at her to leave….”I never want to see you again“….. or he invokes God to get what he wants… or he’s slapping her. She seems more capable than he is of expressing her heartfeltest feelings: “I’m crying because you trample on me and it hurts! You’re trampling on your most faithful friend, amd i’m crying because it makes me angry” she sobs. You don’t get that he’s the “good person” (his mother and ex) say he is. You get that he’s painfully flawed, emotionally dsyfunctional, a bit of a loser-loner saddo really (its all those early and deep wounds he’s got).

And yet. I didn’t despise him. Or dislike him. Maybe that’s to the credit of the actor (Samuel Froler) ; or maybe because of the psychological authenticity of Bergmans screenplay. You  aren’t allowed to take easy polarised sides: Henrik bad, Anna good. Everybody has got a bit of crap in them somewhere.

The film really got to me when i first saw it. The stonking rows they have with one another are seeringly shatteringly real. “I’m beginning to recognise my life. It’s coming back at last. I was dreaming. Now I’m awake” he says to himself after they’ve torn the romantic pretence off one anothers shiny pre-wedding masks.

I suppose by the end of the film, Henrik has had to get off his pious high horse of stagnant self-righteousness and get over himself: be forgiving. As Anna will be willing to forgive him also. To bear the disappintments they’ve hurt one another with, they have to dare to forgive. And grow – hopefully – into a maturer, kinder, kind of love.

Dir: Bille August, Sweden

8/10

Leave a Comment