The Promise

I tend to think of any film in a foreign language as an 'artsy' movie, and avoid them like the plague. However, I had the good luck to catch "La Promesse" and I might have to change my thinking. The story is the kind that catches your interest quickly and never lets go. The film never adopts a high air...in fact, it's very gritty, which makes it that much more enjoyable. The characters are so believable you might think you're actually watching a documentary. To top it off, the morality play at the heart of the movie is done remarkably well. If you're in the mood for something different, see this movie.

The movie brilliantly immerses itself in the details of running an illegal immigrant business (excellent scenes of the interchange of money; petty extortion; the miserable compromises and requests of the immigrants), from which the black couple and child gradually emerge as a sort of beacon of hope because of the gracious simplicity of their rituals in their horrible hovel. The movie avoids sentimentality or overt analysis - it s a highly respectful portrait of tumultuous actions in a very specific, eye-openingly grim sector of low life. The boy's relationship with the father is satisfyingly rounded - accommodating obvious mutual affection despite the outbursts of violence and the terrible paternal example set overall - and the portrayal of the woman is culturally precise and fascinating. A fine film, balancing enormous relevance with proper mystery.

This film was a gem and I look forward to seeing "Rosetta" by the same filmmakers, although I missed it back in '99.

The story has a gritty documentary feel in its depiction of lower-class immigrant experience in Belgium, but nonetheless is dramatically compelling because of the tension between the father and the son.

I haven't seen this side of modern European urban life treated in film this well.

Brothers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne concern themselves with creating films that put realism on the screen without using artifice or cinematic trickery to distract the audience from the socially aware message at the core of their narratives. Unlike the similarly themed dogme movement, or the more iconic works of Lars von Trier etc, the Dardenne brothers are unconcerned with changing the face of cinematic reality, but rather, take their cue from people like Ken Loach, Bruno Dumont and Robert Bresson; by creating honest, often-bleak works of film that take their character from despair, to hope, and sometimes, right back to despair, in order to give the audience a taste of a world away from the more comfortable social milieu we might be accustomed to. The concept could be read as hypocritical admittedly, and although the occasional heavy-handed quality of the brother's work does intermittently become preachy, there is ample opportunity to deliver some moments of earth-shattering drama.

I first encountered the Dardenne's work back in 2001, when British film channel Film Four premiered their film The Promise (1996) in preparation for the premier of their highly acclaimed follow up film Rosetta (1999). Both films are here are heavily indebted to the naturalistic/realist work of Bresson and Loach, particularly films like Diary of a Country Priest (1951), Riff Raff (1990) and Raining Stones (1993); with the filmmakers presenting the viewer with a series of characters continually forced to the brink of despair, but desperate to pull themselves back. For me, out of the two films of theirs that I have thus far seen, The Promise is the one that makes the greatest impact. Here, The Dardenne's create a world that isn't a million miles away from the current social climate in the UK, with building sites, smoky pubs and migrant workers peppering what is essentially the typical rites-of-passage/coming of age movie so familiar even by Hollywood standards. The brothers rest their narrative firmly on the shoulders of young newcomer Jérémie Rénier as Igor, a teenage tearaway forced into looking after a young black mother and her baby following the death of the woman's husband whilst working for the company run by Igor's father.

The brothers season their film with an abundance of topical, moralistic issues such as the passage into adulthood, immigration and domestic abuse, but at the centre of the drama there is still room for hope in the touching father son relationship between Igor and his disparate dad (played here by award winning actor and regular Dardenne collaborator Olivier Gourmet). The Promise might not be a ground-breaking film; its ideas are well worn and its scenarios familiar from the classic kitchen-sink cinema of films like Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960) and A Taste of Honey (1961) to name only two, but the process of refinement that the brothers are able to create with the subtle shading of characters and the no-nonsense approach to film-making is really quite affecting on the most personal and emotional of levels.

La Promesse is one of the best films of this decade. With its simple style and character-driven plot, one may think that the film comes from one of the Dogma 95 manifesto directors but it doesn't. The film's strengths lie in its theme of morality and responsibility and in its no-nonsense portrayal of the immigrant situation in Belgium (with reverberations reaching all across Europe). One can say that it's a coming-of-age tale--and in some ways it is--but when one thinks of the usual film categorized as such, the moniker doesn't match. Even the scene where Igor is being seduced by an older woman, while his father and his father's girlfriend look on, has no follow-up, no clumsy bedroom scene where we see Igor lose his virginity. The film makers just cut from the seduction scene in the bar to Igor the next morning back to his "job" at the dilapidated building site. Clearly, the directors are unconcerned with the staples of the "coming-of-age" genre. More precisely, I think it should be called a "coming-of-conscience" film. The final scene is at the same time heartbreaking and thought-provoking. The way they end the movie is a masterstroke because it forces the viewer to ponder what will come next, thus prompting self-reflective questions on what the viewer himself or herself would have chosen to do.