The Second Chance Film Series screens this award-winning French film about a carpentry student and his teacher.
By: Bob Brown
Rarely does a film with so few filmic trappings have such a powerful impact. It’s as if the filmmakers, Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne (The Promise, 1996), want to strip everything away that stands between the story and the viewer.
And so the viewer enters that story in media res. There is no explanation, no voice-over narrator, no music, no pole star to guide by. We’re at sea without a navigator. We’re in what appears to be an industrial arts school of some kind, somewhere in France. The instructor, Olivier (Olivier Gourmet), is pointing out the basics of carpentry to a class of teenage boys. He is patient for the most part, but insistent on quality work. He will not let anyone slide.
A new boy has applied to enter the school. Olivier is told the boy wants to learn carpentry, but Olivier has no more room. He suggests that the boy be told to apply for training in electrical arts. Olivier catches a glimpse of the boy, for a fleeting moment. Suddenly Olivier is all eyes and ears. He spies around corners and between cracks in the window, hoping to see the boy more fully, hoping himself not to be seen. He stalks. He follows the boy into a lavatory, where the lad has fallen asleep on the floor.
Olivier will make room for this new boy, Francis (Morgan Marinne), after all. He is now almost obsessed with the new student, tailing him like a spy after hours, giving him rides and treating him to a pastry. What is going on here? We might draw all kinds of conclusions at this point, but there is another aspect to Olivier’s extracurricular life. He has an ex-wife, Magali (Isabella Soupart), who it seems is remarried, or about to be. She is pregnant. Olivier is at once furious, then solicitous. There is something he has discovered. His ex-wife is not sure he should be following it up. Is he a voyeur, a pedophile, something worse?
The way this story unfolds is like peeling an onion. You open it layer by layer, not knowing what to expect. A mystery is gradually revealing itself, along with the characters, who are really the center of the story. The plot itself seems not to be a plot. It seems more to be a slice out of time into which we have stepped, like voyeurs ourselves.
The Dardenne brothers, in a production journal of their film, are coyly cryptic, giving nothing away, least of all their motives or a plot. "Two bodies separated by something unknown," their notes say. "Two bodies attracted by something unknown. Gestures, words, glances that don’t stop assessing the distance that separates them, as well as the force of the secret that binds them. That’s what we must try to measure with our camera."
Speaking of cameras, they chose a special one to film this movie, a new compact super-16mm machine devised by a French company specializing in on-site filming and field recording. Super 16 is not new, but its use is increasing, especially in Europe. It combines the compactness of a smaller format with the higher resolution of a slightly larger film area. This is achieved by eliminating one of the two sprocket guides.
The cinematographer, Alain Marcoen, was able to make very tight shots, following Gourmet and shooting the action more or less over his shoulder. The viewer has a sense of participating in his discoveries, feeling the urgency of his movements and reactions. There is something of a documentary feel to the film. And that is natural for the Dardennes, whose company, Derives, has produced some 60 documentaries since 1975.
But unlike some recent movies that use this hand-held approach (e.g., 21 Grams) to mimic a frantic documentary approach, the camera’s presence is mitigated by the quality of the film. The usual extreme graininess of a regular 16mm film is absent. Nor are the sets murky, as are many of the Danish Dogme 95 films. Consequently, the viewer feels more involved in what’s happening on screen. And it is very close-up indeed. Gourmet’s face often appears in the extreme foreground, the camera being almost another set of eyes.
The naturalness of the performances goes hand-in-hand with that of the cinematography. This is Morgan Marinne’s second film appearance, but he seems to have been plucked off the street. For many of the boys in the school as well, this is a film debut.
Gourmet’s acting is so natural, it seems not to be acting at all. His performance won him Best Actor honors at the Cannes Film Festival in 2002. The film was nominated for the Palme d’Or. Last year the San Francisco Film Critics Circle named The Son the Best Foreign Language Film. Yet it hasn’t made a splash in theaters, and that’s too bad, because its quietness belies its power, which culminates in a conclusion that is at once surprising and satisfying.
The Son will be screened Feb. 9, 7:30 p.m., during the Second Chance Film Series, Kresge Auditorium, Frick Chemical Building, Princeton University campus, corner of Washington Road and William Street. Tickets cost $6, $4 Princeton University students (subject to availability). For information, call (609) 683-1101.
Unrated. In French with English subtitles.