Change Your Image
billheron53
Reviews
Place de la République (1974)
Tribute to the strength of the human spirit
A voice-over explains: "The concept was simple: with camera and microphone in plain view, we struck up conversations with passers-by." The French word used is "des inconnus"— "unknown people"— which can have the sense of "strangers," "mere nobodies," or even the mathematical concept of "an unknown quantity." At another point the film makers tell one person, "It's about people in the street." Early in the film an older lady, retired, with a son and granddaughter, and "very happy," is astonished that the film makers are attempting to make a film without actors playing roles or to make a documentary without commentary. The film makers point out that she herself is at that moment providing the commentary. She seems delighted at the realization.
What follows for one and a half hours is about thirty-five encounters filmed over a fifteen-day period— a diverse range of people, many of whom willingly tell about their background, and some of whom discuss the very basis of their outlook on life. Some are decidedly odd. Many mention or give accounts of experiencing profound loss (some very recent), hardship, difficulty, or discomfort. Yet everyone is carrying on— some a little pathetically,— some gallantly, even beautifully. Some, whose personal situation might make a pitiful character in a fiction, are absolutely charming. All have dignity. All describe themselves as resigned, accepting, content, and even quite happy.
The film ends with a second encounter with a talkative woman pushing a bicycle. Her long and rambling story draws small crowds, and would seemingly have continued indefinitely if the film makers had been able to keep up with her on her bicycle. She rides beyond their range, and a quote from Raymond Queneau appears, translated as: "'Why,' he said, 'should one not tolerate this life, when so little suffices to deprive one of it?'" Without using scripted actors or commentary, the film succeeds as a tribute to the strength of the human spirit.
Humain, trop humain (1974)
The Sum of Its Component Parts?
Thorkell A. Ottarsson, who posted a review on 13 September 2009, called this film "beautiful, meditative and poetic." It is indeed meditative. With a steady series of "snapshots" depicting the production of automobiles at a Citroën factory, it follows the rhythm of the assembly line, and this suggests a poetic meter.
Beginning with a woman manoeuvring a travelling crane over a vast stockpile of rolled steel sheet, we don't know what is being manufactured until the first recognizable component appears in the frame: the hood of the car is flipped over and inspected by a young woman in a red vest.
We follow the process for the first quarter of the film. The pieces are fitted together, slowly building the automobile. Sometimes more interesting than the procedure is the ingenious jig or fixture that has been created to hold the workpiece or guide parts together. At each stage inspectors feel for correct alignment or smooth finish, peer into corners and consult clipboards. The overall impression is of a huge number of people busily involved in the manufacturing process.
After we see the finished cars being driven onto rail transport, the second quarter of the film shows people checking out the cars at an auto show. Here we see the result is an amazingly complex, highly refined machine— looking like a jewel box under the bright lights. An amazing variety of people pick over, peer at, explore, and comment on the finished product, completely oblivious of the many individual human beings who contributed to its existence.
The second half of the film returns to the assembly line. Now we see it at the level of the individual workers, often seen framed by their own machine or the components around them, so they appear alone, integrated with their machine. The process is mesmerizing. The camera lingers this time on individuals. Some stand at a work station and perform their task with a steady rhythm of repetitious motions. Others move in steady rhythm around components that move slowly, inexorably along the assembly line. We may watch them perform several different tasks as a car body moves along, then pick up their tools and walk back up the line to begin on another car body. No one talks. All focus on their assigned task.
What we see is a tremendously complicated task that has been highly organized into many small tasks each handled by one individual. A scene showing seat upholstery being sewn suggests how many components have come from yet another assembly line that we do not see. Some of the tasks are very simple: one person's role is to place washers on a pair of studs; an exquisitely-sculpted jig allows one woman to bend tubing into an intricate configuration in a few simple motions. Some tasks involve more craftsmanship: spot welding in the right places, filling and smoothing a body seam, hammering and levering until a hatchback door closes perfectly aligned.
We see the manufacturing process in roughly reverse order. The film ends with a freeze frame of the young woman in the red apron inspecting newly-welded hoods. We are left to wonder if mass production reduces the contributions of individuals to such small parts that they are usually forgotten. They become insignificant, and the public at the auto show refer to the car as a product of a corporation. The vehicle has features and changes that "they" have decided on.
We are also left perhaps to wonder if a mass produced article retains a part, albeit a minuscule part, of each individual who has contributed to it, and whether or not the sum total of all that is equivalent to what is in a work completed by a single craftsperson.
Les croix de bois (1932)
A Different Perspective of War
This is a film about the human cost of war. It opens with a beautifully crafted scene: a shot of soldiers standing in rank and file on parade dissolves to rows of crosses in a military cemetery in identical alignment. After a close-up of a marble cross engraved "In Memoriam" there is a dissolve to rows of fresh grave mounds, each headed by a rough wooden cross. There follows a scene of crowds of walking men and crowds of marching soldiers who have responded to notices of general conscription. We have been taken back in time.
From this point, the film follows the experiences of a particular squad in the French army during World War I, as a young law student joins their ranks. This is a familiar way to depict war. We know we will get to know this small group of soldiers. We expect some will die, because that is what happens in war. We also might expect to see their efforts and sacrifice in some kind of context.
What is striking about this film is its especially narrow focus. We might expect that, since it is so easy to do in film, our perspective would widen at some points to show us "the bigger picture." This film never does. There are no wide sweeping shots of a battlefield. As it would be for the ordinary soldier, our view is low and limited. In the most open field in broad daylight we never see more than a few dozen men. Many scenes occur at night. (The effect of light from falling flares is very effectively captured in the photography.) Artillery shells come unexpectedly, seemingly at random, from nowhere. Orders arrive, and, like the soldiers, we do not know what led to them being given or what larger purpose the action will serve. At one point the soldiers shout "We saved the town!" But we have no idea what town it is— only that they are referring to a complete ruin.
What we do see are the occasional breaks from the stress of the battlefield. Even those are filled with uncomprehended occurrences: distribution of new helmets and knives, calls to parade when what is needed is rest, expected leave suddenly cancelled.
We are aware individual deaths. They die beside their comrades. They fail to return. Two men realize they can use their dead comrade as a parapet. One effective scene has a soldier go outside the bunker as lookout. A nearby shell explodes, and the soldiers call their comrade's name. A soldier goes out to look, returns. "Well?" "We need another lookout." The soldier who goes out takes his post next to the dead comrade. He listens for a moment to the groans and appeals of the wounded on the other side of the parapet, and has to cover his ears.
We are reminded of the dead in an effective shot used twice in a scene of the soldiers marching on parade during one of their breaks. In the background is a church. Superimposed in the sky above is the silhouette of a similar line of soldiers climbing uphill, as if to heaven.
The film ends with the death of the young law student. Wounded during the day, he must keep awake until dark, when medics might be able to reach him. As he becomes delirious, we again see soldiers climbing uphill in the sky. This time, they are all carrying wooden crosses, and this time, there is more than one file. Some of those passing close to us are German soldiers.
So, in a sense, this film does include a wider perspective. It just isn't the wider view we are used to seeing in films about war.
La classe de neige (1998)
Grant us your peace-- a sensitive look at an anxious child
Nicolas's father is overprotective beyond reason. He asks his son's teacher what guarantee she can give that the children will be safe on the planned trip to an outdoor education centre. Miss Grimm responds matter-of-factly that there is "nothing," and the father announces that he will drive Nicolas himself. This father also allows his sons to watch a news item about a horrible bus accident. He tells Nicolas a gruesome story about organ traffickers to explain why he will not leave the little brother in the care of a stranger. He has recently attempted suicide by slitting his wrists, and burdens Nicolas with the torments of his mental imbalance.
Nicolas is a nervous wreck as a result. He is anxious, has nightmares, and wets the bed. Patrick, the instructor at the outdoor ed. centre, recognizes him as a worrier, but also "a dreamer." Nicolas also has a skewed attitude to his own body. He should be fascinated by the impending changes of puberty, but he does not understand a classmate's ribald riddle, and he thinks he's done something "very bad" when he has a "wet dream." During a relaxation exercise, "getting to know his body" brings a series of nightmarish thoughts. His interest in the anatomy booklet he gets with gas station coupons is part of what seems to be a morbid obsession. His wondering why his father doesn't return with his forgotten bag leads to visions of a gruesome accident. Nicolas spends so much time worrying about what terrible things could occur that he has begun to wonder if his "thinking hard" about them can cause them to actually happen.
At the outdoor ed. centre Nicolas has something of a breakthrough. The need to borrow pyjamas leads to overtures of friendship from Hodkann, the class tearaway. His nightmare of organ traffickers shooting all the students turns into a dream of rescuing and protecting Hodkann. The nightmare of seeing his little brother kidnapped by organ traffickers turns into a dream of sharing with Hodkann the thrill of the roller coaster. Nicolas also gets to spend some time with Patrick, a teacher who is easygoing and fun. Their shopping trip to buy clothes for Nicolas is the first time he smiles.
Hodkann is fascinated by the idea that Nicolas is a sleepwalker. Nicolas satisfies that curiosity by spinning a tale of seeing organ traffickers outside, and embellishes it with the claim that his father is tailing them, waiting for an opportunity to "settle the score" of the theft of the little brother's kidney. But Hodkann, totally believing, connects this with the disappearance and murder of a local boy. He reports the story to the police, thinking that he is ensuring the protection of Nicolas's father.
When he hears this, Nicolas faints, thinking he is going to be in deep trouble for misleading the police during a murder inquiry. Then he is told there is "a problem at home," and that he is to be driven back by Patrick. On the way, he sees a television report of his father's arrest, and he realizes that it is his father who is in deep trouble.
In the middle of all this, he sees a beautiful young mother cooing to her baby on a change table. His face takes on a tranquil look, and he exchanges a tender smile with the mother.
At this point his string bracelet falls away, which the teachers had told him would be when his wish would be granted. The "Agnus Dei" from Rossini's Petite Messe Solonelle, which has been used repeatedly during the film, plays to the end, repeating at last the "Dona nobis pacem," or "Grant us your peace." Nicolas's wish may have been to be rid of his father— a wish Miss Grimm actually suggests, as a joke. Perhaps his wish was simply to be at peace— free of anxiety and nightmarish thoughts— and he now feels able to cope with his worries and can return home and ring his doorbell and face whatever awaits there.
The film ends, though, with Hodkann. Whenever he has made a friendly gesture towards Nicolas, the teachers have suspected he was setting up a prank. At the end, he is summoned to the teachers' office, and shown the news item of Nicolas's father in police custody. They expect him to be sobered by the serious consequences of what they assume is a lie he has told. But he has been misunderstood again. He stares at the television, confused, dismayed, in shock. The "Agnus Dei" plays during the credits over an aerial shot of a desolate winter forest, perhaps suggesting the ultimately isolated state of a person's inner life.