The Secret of the Grain (La graine et le mulet)

 

Director Abdellatif Kechiche

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SECRET OF THE GRAIN (La graine et le mulet)           B+                                         aka:  Couscous                                                                                                                        France  (151 mi)  2007  d: Abdellatif Kechiche

Written by the director, this is a remarkable piece of naturalistic filmmaking using a startlingly realistic ensemble cast that very eloquently examines the interpersonal relations of one particular immigrant family living in Sète, a southern seaside port community in France, a Maghreb cultural and interracial mix of Algerian, Tunisian, Spanish, Portuguese, and French, the same city dramatized in Agnès Varda’s LA POINTE COURTE (1955).  Slimane (Habib Boufares, a friend of the director’s father, having worked construction jobs together) has worked at the shipyards for thirty-five years, but has only officially been on the books for less than half that, a reference to exploited immigrant labor, so now in his 60’s he is considered expendable when the company decides to make cutbacks.  This economic hardship creates tension among his extended family, many of whom have been at odds quarelling with one another.  In a close knit French-Tunisian community, family life becomes everyone’s business and may become the subject of gossip and ridicule.  Slimane has two grown sons with his ex-wife Souad (Bouraouïa Marzouk), but lives in a rundown hotel owned by his lover, Latifa (Hatika Karaoui), along with her nearly grown daughter Rym (Hafsia Herzi), who feels like a daughter to him, causing a rift between the two sides of the family who vie for his attention.  All of this comes to light in a brilliantly composed kitchen sequence where Souad makes her infamous Sunday couscous, but complains she’s not receiving sufficient alimony support for her family (he often pays by bringing fish), where one by one the members of her side of the family are dragged into that kitchen for food and family scrutiny.  The adrenaline-paced dialogue is witty and humorous and full of sharp barbs (French critics love regional dialects, with authentic local accents), but doesn’t hide behavior that is deeply disturbing, as the oldest son Majid (Sami Zitouni) is cheating on his Russian wife Julia (Alice Houri), who is an emotional wreck, but bravely pulls herself together at the behest of the strong-armed aunts, Karima (Farida Benkhetache) and Lilia (Leila D’Issernio) who appear to relish their role of chiding each and every member of the family.  The close ups on their faces as they eat adds a kind of improvisational intimacy while the roving camera by Lubomir Bakchev continually moves in and out of the discussion, giving the audience a good read on everyone present.  It is no accident that Slimane is not there, but he is referred to throughout as if he was.  The sons bring him a plate of food to his room afterwards, which he shares with Rym, who simply devours it with relish as the boys can’t take their eyes off her, stunning in her beauty as well as her free-spirited boldness.   

While this showcases humanistic filmmaking, what must be foremost on the audience’s mind at this point is the extraordinary strength of some of these women, whose aggressive nature is expressed not only by their personal charm and domineering personalities, but through their relationship with food and their demand that certain customs sharing the food be adhered to and respected, which is their way of including everyone at the table, usually flooding them with attention.  There is a maternal affection on display here that is undeniable, as these women are not at a loss for words, and that goes for Rym as well, who is as strongly opinionated as anyone else in the film and is not afraid to share her thoughts.  But alongside endearing attributes, constant bickering and resentful backstabbing spews back and forth as well, where the other side of the family is constantly subjected to jealous and vile gossip that becomes a prominent part of this family history.  Slimane for the most part, despite fervently appealed to by both sides, refuses to get involved in such talk and pretty much ignores it, as he’s a proud, quiet man with an intensely private life, alienated by society and his family.  As so much of this is shot in real time, a mysterious leap ahead comes as something of a surprise.  When Slimane decides to fix an old, broken down ship that would otherwise be left for the scrap heap and manage a restaurant onboard run by his family that features his ex-wife’s couscous delicacies, Rym helps him walk through the various levels of city bureaucracy that must grant approval beforehand.  They are, of course, met with skepticism and an armful of impossible bureaucratic demands that must be met, “This is France,” we are told, but he goes ahead with his project anyway, culminating with a gala dinner invitation to all those city officials who previously wouldn’t give him the time of day.  This dinner debacle that starts out with such promise may leave viewers needlessly infuriated instead.  Despite all the accolades this film received, especially by an ecstatic French Press, sweeping the 2008 French César awards for Best Film, Best Director, Best Original Script, and Most Promising Actress (Hafsia Herzi), while also winning the Prix Louis Delluc for Best French film, there is something to be said for the disappointment of the final third, where some are apparently mesmerized, while others just find it amateurish filmmaking with inexplicable editing.  In a stunning turn of events, the insightful and provocative filmmaking that worked so well up to this point gets chucked out the window, including the intelligent script, the natural feeling for authenticity, an appealing unprofessional ensemble cast, the exuberant sense of character, a breakout performance by Hafsia Herzi, cultural revelations expressed through such an original intermixing of comedy and drama, and the director’s keen eye for social observation. 

What was easily one of the strongest films of the year, a veritable French/North African version of Fatih Akim, a Turkish/German filmmaker who skillfully navigates the immigrant experience, where there isn’t a false note anywhere, descends into a quagmire of utter confusion, turning listlessly monotonous and over-indulgent, extending well over a half hour or more beyond a point of losing credibility.  What starts out with dinner music that never stops reveals Julia behind the scenes in a state of panic when she realizes the couscous is missing (still in the trunk of Majid’s car, who is not answering his phone, avoiding an unwanted confrontation with his French mistress who shows up at the dinner), with no food to feed the guests, needing an hour to start another pot.  Meanwhile, Slimane hops on his motorbike seeking Souad, but she’s not there, and instead finds his motorbike missing, inexplicably breaking character, trying to become a super hero, chasing after the punks on the other side of the river riding atop his motorbike, only to be mocked and humiliated by them as they string him along, always remaining just out of reach, taunting him the entire time.  Blending these two scenarios together, what may initially have been hoped to be one long impressive cinematic crescendo simply fizzles out early on by rather ineptly stringing together a repeated cycle of repetitive images over and over again, matched by the restlessly impatient dinner guests.  With no food to serve them, plying them with drinks instead, their obnoxiously offensive comments are turned against the waitressing girls, forcing Rym to fill in as the dancing entertainment purely as a distraction.  What is initially met with ecstatic applause turns into a blasé response to a dumbfoundingly prolonged belly-dancing floor show, losing all attempts at eroticism, as it continues well past the point of no return, becoming a flimsy excuse to objectify the female form, with an endless display of close-ups on her undulating belly, a sexist display of the male gaze, a lengthy and exhausting sequence where the initially captivated audience is reduced to bored and interminable clapping that is without a hint of expressiveness, just waiting for it all to be over, intermingled with repeated shots of Slimane chasing after his motorbike, back and forth, like a cyclical round robin that never ends, where any built-up tension is lost and dissipated, like taking all the air out of a balloon, with the audience just waiting for it all to be over, but it continues ad nauseum.  The overwrought finale is simply tedious, draining viewers of all interest, then ending abruptly without any satisfactory resolution, an unfortunate expression of truly uninspired filmmaking.  This descent from intense fascination to aloof disinterest can only be described as maddening, as this was a terrific film ruined at the end by the director’s own inept choices.  Still, considering the level of distinct fascination in the opening two-thirds, this remains a meticulously fascinating study of a particular social milieu that even with its glaring flaws remains one of the better films seen all year. 

Blue Is the Warmest Color (La Vie d'Adèle, Chapitres 1 et 2)

BLUE IS THE WARMEST COLOR (La Vie d'Adèle, Chapitres 1 et 2)     B         
France  Belgium  Spain  (179 mi)  2013  d:  Abdellatif Kechiche 

I am a woman.  I tell my story.        —La Vie de Marianne, Pierre de Marivaux, 1727 

This film is drawing praise for being the first gay/lesbian themed film to win the Cannes Palme d’Or, while also in an unprecedented move for Cannes, the prize was given not only to the film’s director, Abdellatif Kechiche, but also to each of the two leading actresses, Adèle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux, which makes the actresses the only women besides Jane Campion to have won the festival’s top award.  Now having seen the film, this feels like a very French thing to do, as the award seems more deserved for bravery, two women performing frequent unsimulated sex scenes together in a film directed under the gaze of a male director, which couldn’t have been easy, considering the marathon-like physical endurance needed as well as the variety of geometric positions required.  This same type of gesture could equally have been made to the two leading male actors in Alain Guiraudie’s Stranger By the Lake (L'inconnu du lac), which features unsimulated sex between two male actors.  In each case, it’s the sex that draws all the attention to the films, but the overriding question has to be is there more?  In Guiraudie’s case, he’s crafted an exquisite murder mystery that explores with utter detachment the eroticism inherent in dangerous situations.  In Kechiche’s film, it’s more an exploration about the curiosity of first love, always projected through the prism of inexperienced youth, tracking a young woman’s life from 15 through her 20’s, prefaced by a high school classroom discussion about an 18th century novel, Pierre de Marivaux’s La Vie de Marianne, a book about fate and the tragic influence of love, where Adèle is a reincarnation of Marianne, paralleling the French title of the film, which is La Vie d'Adèle, Chapitres 1 et 2, suggesting it’s an incomplete work, just like Marivaux’s unfinished novel.  Of interest, Marivaux also wrote the play Jeu de l'amour et du hasard (1730), upon which Kechiche’s second film, GAMES OF LOVE AND CHANCE (2003), is based, the first film to bring him international attention. 

If there is a problem with this film it is in the undeveloped nature of the source material, Julie Maroh’s 2010 graphic novel Le Bleu est une Couleur Chaude, which is largely a comic book romance that shows two women in the throes of a love affair, complete with naked sketches, but never draws out either character.  Kechiche’s unflinching realism throughout all his films is perhaps his greatest asset, as is his flair for naturalistic dialogue, especially evident in the opening segments of THE SECRET OF THE GRAIN (2007), where food and a close-knit Arabic family come together in a brilliantly composed kitchen sequence expressed through rapid fire dialogue that is both witty and humorous.  He never matches that level of intensity here, but instead initiates a camera technique (by Sofian El Fani) that is immediately controversial, as the subject is a developing lesbian love affair, but the style used is extreme close ups throughout, where the camera creates the effect of male eyes leering at these young women.  The camera’s interest is Adèle (Exarchopoulos), who we follow throughout the entire film, constantly focusing upon her face, where she is an oversensitive 16-year old with an interest in literature when we first meet her.  At the urging of her friends, she is driven into the arms of Thomas (Jérémie Lahuerte, her real-life boyfriend), an attractive boy a year older, and they have sex, but she quickly dumps him.  At least early on, the camera lingers in Adèle’s school classrooms, hallways, cafeteria, and entranceway where students gather, where the classroom discussions are typically dour, where there’s no attempt to generate any interest or enthusiasm, and much of the discussion is quickly lost in transit, but the interplay between the students outdoors is animated and highly theatrical.      

When Adèle meets another schoolgirl who offers her first lesbian kiss, the girl pulls away the next day and claims it was just a joke.  Shortly afterwards she meets the blue-haired Emma (Seydoux, who is intentionally unprettified for this film, made to look less feminine), an older college student studying fine arts, who initially caught her eye walking down the street with another woman, a moment that stayed in her head.  When she goes out for a drink with a male gay friend, Adèle searches for her and wanders a bit until she finds herself in a lesbian bar, where she’s easily the youngest thing there, hit upon like sharks attracted to rare meat until Emma scoops her up and rescues her, meeting the next day after school, drawing the attention of all her friends.  While they take a walk in the nearby parks, they discuss art and existentialism, suggesting Sartre helped define Emma’s new sense of liberation when she came out, where she’s easily the freer and more relaxed of the two, while Adèle can’t take her eyes off her.  When her friends angrily provoke her at school the next day for being seen with another woman, spreading ugly rumors, she defends herself, but is already caught up in a rush of exhilaration, seen with Emma again the next day visiting female nudes in an art gallery, which leads to an extended lovemaking scene.  While many contend this is the best scene in the film due to the raw and graphic nature, but it contains too many abrupt edits and lacks the natural fluidity of the rest of the film, where the moans and groans meant to convey intensity sound more like a professional women’s tennis match, growing more predictable after awhile.  In America, the movie has earned an NC-17 rating and been effectively banned in Idaho, while in France, anyone older than 12 can see it, causing the biggest opening of any French feature this year.  

While the intent to unclothe two beautiful young women is clearly meant to arouse sexual interest in the audience, and the immediate effect is startling, but the grab-ass physical intensity and continued slaps to the buttocks were almost certainly instructions given by the director.  Since Cannes (where both actresses were seen kissing and mugging the director on the awards podium), both have indicated they refuse to ever work with this director again, complaining that Kechiche’s mode of working was abusive, how it took 10 grueling days to shoot the longest sex scene, and that he demanded take after take of difficult sequences, including the sex scenes, asking Seydoux to do things that made her feel like “a prostitute,” claiming “his manners are very tough.”  During a fight scene, he asked them to actually hit each other, and then continued to shoot even after Exarchopoulos cut herself on a glass door.  In the New York Times, Manohla Dargis wrote at Cannes that “the movie feels far more about Mr. Kechiche’s desires than anything else … [He seems] unaware or maybe just uninterested in the tough questions about the representation of the female body that feminists have engaged for decades … He’s as bad as the male character who prattles on about ‘mystical’ female orgasms and art without evident awareness of the barriers female artists faced or why those barriers might help explain the kind of art, including centuries of writhing female nudes, that was produced.”  Much as critics may claim otherwise, the sex scenes are exploitive and gratuitous, as they become the raison d’être of the film, becoming the sole expression of their developing love, as the real deficiency of the film is the surprisingly weak character development.  In a three-hour film, you’d think that would be the centerpiece, but it’s the sex scenes, as there’s very little we actually learn about either one.  Other than the fight at the school and another one that ends their affair, there are very few explosive moments of theatrical exhilaration.  Much of the film is spent attempting to establish a rhythm in ordinary moments, following Adèle wherever she goes, and despite several tearful moments that are certainly not pleasant to watch, we still know very little about this woman, as she remains largely expressionless and undefined.  “I have an infinite tenderness for you,” Emma tells her as she says goodbye, leaving a gaping hole where her heart used to be, allowing a certain amount of time to pass, for life to go on, but in the end, there’s simply nothing like first love.