Elle est des nôtres

Christine Blanc (Sasha Andrés) is a young woman whose name answers to her personality. She's a stalwart temporary secretary who correctly earns a livelihood and however she looks absent to her surrounding. She's also well aware that her life is empty until the day she strikes up a friendship with Patricia (Catherine Mouchet) who searches jobs for her. But this friendship brutally comes to an end when one day at the swimming pool, Christine kills her. From then onwards, everything is fine for her: she passes her driving test, she has a more steady and lucrative job, she has a lover and however these aren't rational consequences of the horrendous act she committed...

I must acknowledge that I was very taken with this daunting work shot by Siegfrid Alnoy which is likely to travel for a long time in my mind. If she aimed at shaking our reassuring convinced ideas about society, work and leisure, she admirably succeeded in her task. Blur, ambiguity to tell Christine's outlandish adventure, her position in the world and personality are her best weapons. Like the Degas police officer, one is very intrigued by this idiosyncratic woman and although the director offers us a few clues likely to shed more light on her personality (see the sequence in the restaurant between the two characters), she keeps all her mystery from this perspective. Even before the murder, she seems elusive to the eyes of the audience: does she reject the world or does the world reject her? And after the murder, see the glaring contrast: a numb, senseless Christine Blanc superseded a wan one.

Beyond Christine Blanc's ascension, "Elle est Des Nôtres" raises serious problems about a ravenous consuming society and a heartless world of work. It holds a deeply pessimist vision about its members who consummate as much as they can, who are driven by the laws of market economy and don't remember human values any more. It is to Alnoy's credit that this nearly inhumane world could be ours. How chilling...

Thanks to a sparse cinematographic writing, eerie camera angles, a big attention brought to the sound (the film should have had a nomination for the Best Sound at the César Ceremony in 2004), a music which often has the form of a barely audible note scattered with disturbing musical effects, Siegfrid Alnoy conjures up a disquieting climate which takes the form of an increasing crescendo throughout the film. The murder sequence made me look away and I can say that I hadn't been impressed by a murder sequence for a long time. Actors aren't very known in the French mainstream and their somewhat blank acting help to maintain the malaise.

The title of the film comes from a French popular song that is sung when someone is about to drink a glass of alcohol for the very first time. Once she swallowed the beverage, her peers sing: "she's one of us. She drank her glass like the others!". This type of sequence is shown in the film when Christine is in a restaurant with her colleagues to celebrate her success at her driving test. Yes, "she's one of us" and "she's also part of an oppressive system that destroys her and transforms her in a normal monster". These are Siegfird Alnoy's words about her work. Its only fault is that the form has sometimes the tendency to forget the contents. But it doesn't stop you from watching an unnerving, compelling work that will haunt you for a long time.

A rather strange but interesting study about solitude and difficulties for a woman to communicate, build relationship. It may be handicaped by an abrupt editing, typical of French films d'auteurs. It is not destined to the bulk of audiences. It is disturbing for too sensitive people. The faintness of urban life and diseases, psychological diseases it provokes, the inner collapse for weak minded persons, that's mainly what it is about. So please, don't be too harsh with this film.

An unsettling film about a woman unable to fit into her surroundings, out of place at work, at home, with her parents. Shot in a very clinical manner - it should come as no surprise that the director admires Resnais and Antonioni. There is some humor in the film, though even that is undercut by some dialogue about wishing to laugh for once without it being at the expense of others. The film manages, however, to include some melodrama: a murder, a police investigation, an off-screen suicide.

I saw the film at a series of French films in New York and was inclined, despite everything, to give the director the benefit of the doubt on a film which, though unpleasant, seemed to have a great deal of sympathy for those who just don't fit in. Unfortunately, the director was present and explained that the film was above all a critique of the workplace, which saps the creativity of workers. Despite my upper middle-class status, I could only think at that point: Elitist bulls**t! For most people, work is the means by which they support and protect themselves and their families. And for many, the workplace is the locus of their creativity--or at least where they can draw on the support and friendship of their co-workers.

There were in this film no children, no books, no sign of the civil society that sustains people faced with earning a living, being decent, facing mortality. The film seemed to succumb, ultimately, to the fallacy of form: only something lifeless, dreary and unrelenting could describe the situation of the workplace. Convinced me more than ever of the formal validity of the work of leftist filmmakers like Loach, Leigh and Godard (at least the early Godard), who are able to depict the contradictions of modern life with vitality and humor and, ultimately, respect for those who have to endure it.

So, yes, a provocative film, but the work of a scold.