Other People's Children (Les Enfants des Autres)

 

Writer/director Rebecca Zlotowski

The director on the set with Callie Ferreira-Goncalves

Zlotowski with Virginie Efira

Virginie Efira

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OTHER PEOPLE’S CHILDREN (Les Enfants des Autres)                        B                                 France  (103 mi)  2022  ‘Scope  d: Rebecca Zlotowski

Life is so short and long at the same time.                                                                              —Rachel Friedmann (Virginie Efira)

Having seen several earlier films by Zlotowski, this feels like a decades-later extension of that same brash Léa Seydoux character from Rebecca Zlotowski’s Belle Épine (2010), or Grand Central (2013), where Belgian-born lead actress Virginie Efira has a remarkably strong screen presence, bearing a surprising physical resemblance to Seydoux, but now in her mid-40’s, where each of these female characters are likely drawn from the personal experiences of the director, who writes her own screenplays, with this film supposedly inspired by her relationship with director Jacques Audiard.  It features a woman in an existential mid-life crisis, having always been consumed by her teaching career, delaying having children, an intrinsic part of her female identity, just assuming it would eventually happen, having waited too late, and now senses an impending emergency, as her dwindling fertility levels offer only a small window of opportunity.  Efira plays Rachel Friedmann, a socially outgoing and stunningly attractive high school teacher, where it’s clear she takes a personal interest in the lives of her students, having an impact in their lives and career choices, helping them make good decisions about the future, yet surprisingly she has no personal life to speak of, remaining close to her younger sister Louana (Yamée Couture) and father (Michel Zlotowski), the director’s own father.  Zlotowski earned a degree in literature and actually wanted to become a teacher, but once she joined the screenplay department of La Fémis, a prestigious Parisian film school, she was hooked on making films that she wrote herself.  Belle Épine is more of a sketch than a screenplay, offering a slice-of-life into the dreary existence of an impressionable adolescent on the motorcycle circuit, while Grand Central is more of a class exposé, examining the dead-end lives of exploited nuclear power workers, where the emotional risks of sexual promiscuity are presented side-by-side with the dangerous hazards of working inside a nuclear reactor.  A similar pattern of both films is how underwritten they are, leaving plenty to the imagination of viewers, while also accentuating the extreme vulnerability of women who are not shy about their sexuality, as Zlotowski tends to showcase the female form in all its glory, and this film is no different.  However, it feels like a more mature work than her earlier films, offering a mix of tenderness and cruelty in an enveloping atmosphere of breezy modernity, with scenes ending in an iris fade to black closing in a diminishing circle, a silent film technique often used by François Truffaut, with a simplistic storyline that’s more fleshed out and easy to identify with, yet one common denominator in all her films is that they feature superlative performances from the lead actress.  Efira won the Best Actress Lumières Award, where it’s a bit surprising she hasn’t been better showcased in her earlier films, but in Zlotowski’s hands, she just radiates, offering a career performance.

Unlike her other films, this is predominately a romantic drama, where the tragedy of relationships is that they don’t turn out the way we’d like, bearing some resemblance to Mia Hansen-Løve’s One Fine Morning (Un Beau Matin) (2022), as both are about middle-aged women falling in love again, where a whirlwind love affair develops between Rachel and Ali Ben Attia (Roschdy Zem, winner of the Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival in 2006 for Rachid Bouchareb’s DAYS OF GLORY), representing a surge of emotions with each surrendering to torrid sexual passions, as there’s a giddiness in the air, almost too perfect.  With an emphasis on small moments, including gestures, observations, and sensations, one of the key scenes is seeing her in the bathroom smoking a cigarette as she brazenly watches him take a shower, utterly fixated on what she sees, enamored by his muscular physique.  But Rachel also falls for his 4-year old daughter Leila (Callie Ferreira-Goncalves), becoming utterly devoted, taking on the role of the surrogate mother, where a recurring scene is picking Leila up after judo practice, along with the other mothers, each holding a snack to give to their children, like a kind of reward.  The complexity of the relationship is constantly tested, with Leila missing her own mother Alice (Chiara Mastroianni), not really comprehending why she’s not around, where these kinds of consequences are difficult on everyone.  They decide to take a weekend excursion to Camargue, a Southern coastal marshland, part of the Rhône delta of wetlands, ponds, and sandbars known for migrating birds, ferocious mosquitos, and flamingos, but most especially The White Horses of Camargue, which are native to the region, often seen roaming on their own, blending into the natural beauty of the landscape.  On the train ride back, Leila seems to embrace Rachel, OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN | Exclusive Clip | Music Box Films YouTube (1:01), but she just as mysteriously pitches a fit over her missing mother.  Perhaps the biggest surprise is seeing 92-year old documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman (who lives in Paris) in the French-speaking role of Rachel’s elderly gynecologist, who makes it abundantly clear that she has a limited time to start her own family, suggesting that she needs to think of months as years, with a diminished period of fertility, as her mother had a history of premature menopause, so this adds extra pressure to her mindset and to the relationship, as she’s simply running out of time.  The title of the film embellishes this sense of urgency, as Rachel begins identifying with “other people’s children,” including her sister Louana, where the sequence in the hospital following childbirth is especially poignant, adding another layer of intensity for both Rachel and the viewing audience, shifting the focus, becoming more prominently featured near the end of the film, adding an element of pathos.

Two things immediately stand out, the extremely eclectic musical score, offering a formal classicism that was not part of her earlier films, and is used quite effectively here, with the film opening to the atonal piano sounds of Thelonious Monk, Thelonious Monk - Pannonica - YouTube (9:04), where the excitement of love is expressed by the enthralling music of Vivaldi - Mandolin Concerto in C Major, RV 425, I. Allegro YouTube (2:48), which was provocatively featured by Truffaut in The Bride Wore Black (La mariée était en noir) (1968), while the music of Dave Van Ronk beautifully encapsulates an alluring slow dance at a party, Dave Van Ronk - "Cocaine Blues" - YouTube (4:19), while we also hear Doris Day’s melancholic Again - YouTube (2:47), Yves Simon - Nous partirons, nous deux - YouTube (3:51), ending with Georges Moustaki’s breezy cover of the Antonio Carlos Jobim song, Georges Moustaki - Les eaux de Mars - YouTube (3:45), which gives you an idea of the extensive range of emotion the director was going for.  The other is the way actress Virginie Efira was filmed, almost always in close-up, featuring long, pensive glances, where she resembles a model more than an actress.  Clearly the director is having a love affair with her face, which then extends to the audience, where this is a prominently featured example of the female gaze.  Shot by Zlotowski’s longtime cinematographer, Georges Lechaptois, who also shot Bruno Dumont’s TWENTYNINE PALMS (2003) during his American excursion, that everpresent smile defines Rachel’s outer countenance, perhaps hiding what she really feels, which remains a mystery, becoming more muted and subdued when she doesn’t get pregnant.  Adding to the degree of discomfort is the returning presence of Alice, who often turns up unexpectedly, sending her own relationship with Ali into a tailspin of confusion, OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN (2023) | Virginie Efira, French | Drama Movie YouTube (55 seconds), with Ali remaining ambivalent about how he feels, apparently content to juggle two women in his life, which simply doesn’t work for Rachel, who grows increasingly distant.  The rapturous opening is followed by a more sober study of shared child custody, taking the film in a decidedly different direction, transforming into a complex yet low-key drama about motherhood and how it effects women differently, with Rachel missing out on what she calls “the collective experience” of motherhood.  One aspect that is never addressed is the mixing of the cultures, where Ali is presumably Muslim, while Rachel is Jewish, where keeping traditions intact is part of both, yet the director chooses to leave that unexplored.  Instead Zlotowski has conceived a film that addresses this void in a woman’s life, longing for but not having a child of her own, where she develops maternal feelings by association, which is simply not the same, especially once a relationship loses steam, often disappearing from that non-biological child’s life, experiencing a feeling of distance and loss, even from herself, where she’s left incomplete, with so many questions unanswered.  This is a different kind of film, running the gauntlet from elation to alienation, where it’s mostly an unexplored subject in films, which typically feature the actual parent, with the director offering her own vision and cinematic expression, where there’s even a surprising epilogue, adding yet another perspective, but it still feels like the film skates around the issue.  

Belle Épine

BELLE ÉPINE           B                                     
France  (80 mi)  2010  ‘Scope  d:  Rebecca Zlotowski 

Every generation seems to have a teen angst movie like this one, from THE WILD ONE (1953), Rebel Without a Cause (1955), The 400 Blows (Les quatre cents coups) (1959), to the film this most resembles stylistically, Cold Water (L’eau Froide) (1994), where the role of Léa Seydoux as Prudence most definitely resembles Virginie Ledoyen, both 16-year olds with absent parents who go on a binge of inappropriate behavior, where Assayas’s film carries more weight and complexity, as it has a better script and his use of iconic music is more cultural and a reflection of the times, while this first time director has a searing lead performance from Seydoux, a girl who will throw herself at anything in order to forget how empty she feels inside, but her life as well as the secondary characters remain largely undefined, where we only view them in passing instead of feel intensely immersed in their lives and affected by the outcome.  Prudence is largely indifferent to her circumstances, numb from the recent death of her mother, where in an early scene she’s caught shoplifting, meets another petty thief in holding, Maryline (Agathe Schlenker), where perhaps the shot of the film is watching her on her way out the door, as she hesitates before walking outside, remaining hidden behind a wall while the audience sees Maryline join a group of awaiting bikers, where all the action is interestingly kept out of focus as we see a series of guys on motorcycles doing wheelies, revving their engines, just generally showing off in front of the girl before she climbs on the back of a bike and they all ride away, creating quite a spectacle—apparently arousing Prudence’s interest.  Shot by Georges Lechaptois, the film is very much in the style of hand held Steadicam cameras closely following the rhythms and natural movements of the kids, where they have an easygoing attitude about sex and nudity, where frank discussions about sex, especially from the female point of view, are the norm.  If ever there was a movie ripe for the song Dear Prudence The Beatles - Dear Prudence YouTube (4:00), this is it, but sadly it was not to be.   

Prudence lives alone in her parent’s spacious house with her father continually absent except by phone, where her older sister Frédérique (Anna Sigalevitch) keeps an eye on her, but her life is an open door of new opportunities, expressing little interest in school, where she typically finds parties every night instead.  When she runs into Maryline, she expresses an interest in meeting the bikers, who are the kinds of guys more interested in bikes than girls, who will pay attention to girls when they have nothing better to do, but will drop them flat the minute any biking event is happening, where they hold impromptu races every night, some of them daredevil, all illegal, where it’s not uncommon for people to get seriously injured or killed, often due to poor maintenance standards, where the carelessness of one rider will kill another.  Somehow, they’re all immune to even talking about this gruesome subject, yakking and having a good time over beers instead, where together they display a 50’s homoerotic camaraderie.  It’s never made clear what interest this holds for Prudence except there are cloisters of guys, any number of whom would be happy to hang out with her, so she pretty much has the pick of the litter other than Maryline’s guy.  While this is nothing like Band of Outsiders (Bande à Part) (1964), for instance, as it lacks the wild optimism and free-spirited energy and humor of the 60’s and instead projects an endless dreariness and monotony, bordering on fatalism, where kids are simply bored with the same things happening in their lives every day, where the idea of tempting death doesn’t feel like such a bad idea.  Any happiness expressed on the screen lasts only for a brief instant, like a quick thrill, whether on motorcycles or in bed, and then it’s over.             

There’s only the briefest hint of a storyline, clocking in at only 80 minutes, where sexual attraction may hold the audience’s attention briefly, but then it quickly wanes, as Prudence isn’t really interested in any guy, but that doesn’t stop her from having sex, or even from taking unnecessary abuse, as she can barely tell the difference.  There’s a cloud of gloom hanging over her shoulder, where her family is still grieving over her mother’s passing, but Prudence is living like there’s no tomorrow, where her sexual behavior looks like a textbook on how to obtain sexually transmitted diseases.  You’d think high school kids should be smarter and more careful, due to increased awareness and available information, but this girl simply doesn’t care what happens to her.  Despite the downbeat subject matter, the film has a fresh, near documentary style, where the awkward, uninhibited nature of teenagers is always appealing, and a good deal of the film has an upbeat musical backdrop that throbs and pulsates with a kind of electric energy.  Seydoux couldn’t be more committed to the role, where it looks like the part was written just for her, as her smoldering sexuality is always expressed in a low-key, offhanded manner, where she’s comfortable, relaxed, and even nonchalant while naked in front of the camera, but gives an edgy performance of moodiness, forever feeling like she’s lost in a rapidly descending sea-change of self-absorption, where it’s easy to see how everyone misunderstands her, continually thinking she’s selfish, as they’re missing the pain she’s trying so hard to avoid.  Of course the inevitable happens, where the end couldn’t be more predictable, even if told in a starkly unanticipated manner, where despite many excellent qualities in this film, especially the unflinching and naturalistic portrait of a glum teenage girl, the script is too bare-bones, never really fleshing out anyone else’s story or offering any new insights into grief or adolescence.