Petite Solange

 

 

Writer/director Axelle Ropert

Director on the set with Jade Springer

PETITE SOLANGE               B                                                                                             France  (86 mi)  2021  d: Axelle Ropert

A heartbreaking tale of divorce, subjectively told from the point of view of a 13-year old daughter whose world is upended for reasons she cannot fathom, literally pulling the rug out from underneath her, leaving her emotionally devastated.  Most films about divorce are told from the adult point of view, like Ingmar Bergman’s epic Scenes from a Marriage (Scener ur ett äktenskap) (1973), Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation (Jodaeiye Nader az Simin) (2011), Hirokazu Kore-eda’s After the Storm (Umi yori mo mada fukaku) (2016), Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s 2017 Top Ten List #1 Happy Hour (Happî Awâ) (2015), or Noah Baumbach’s 2019 Top Ten List #3 Marriage Story, though a few notables accentuate how damaging this can be to children, like Michael Curtiz’s Mildred Pierce (1945), Noah Baumbach’s The Squid and the Whale (2005), or Xavier Legrand’s 2017 Top Ten List #7 Custody (Jusqu'à la garde), which also starred Léa Drucker, yet the uncompromising attitude of the 13-year old protagonist is the female counterpart to Jean-Pierre Léaud in François Truffaut’s The 400 Blows (Les quatre cents coups) (1959), with the film similarly ending on a final freeze frame.  Starting out writing film criticism for the short-lived La Lettre du cinéma magazine, where she was editor-in-chief, an approach that is common for male directors, but very uncommon for female directors, Ropert has crafted a small, intimate, and delicate film with a cathartic power, a French family drama elevated by the performance of young star Jade Springer in her first feature, playing teen schoolgirl Solange, who is intelligent and acutely sensitive, yet also introverted, living with her moody older brother Romain (Grégoire Montana-Haroche), her artistically inclined mother Aurélia (Léa Drucker), who is a successful actress,, and her father Antoine (Philippe Katerine) who runs a music store.  Drawing on Charlotte Gainsbourg’s emotionally scarred performance in Claude Miller’s AN IMPUDENT GIRL (1985), yet also Natalie Wood in Elia Kazan’s SPLENDOR IN THE GRASS (1961), both of which accentuate the exposure of human frailties, everything seems to be going well at the outset, as Solange’s parents are celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary, and while there are occasional awkward moments, there is no sign of any particular problem, but soon there are cracks in the façade of happiness, with the husband sleeping on the couch, and arguments extending long into the night, as this carefully calibrated film follows a young girl experiencing the pain of having to accept her parents as people with faults.  Exuding a naturalness in her performance through an economy of means, as if gleaned from the films of Éric Rohmer, there are no heightened, melodramatic moments, nothing that feels pretentious, instead this is filled with a quietly astute observational eye, where ordinary moments comprise most of what we see.

Set in Nantes, a city associated with Jacques Demy, opening to the dramatic music of Benjamin Esdraffo, his third collaboration with this director, the film is shot on 16mm by Sébastien Buchmann, who assisted Éric Gautier on Léos Carax’s POLA X (1999), much of it handheld, made to resemble the verité stylishness of 1970’s films, featuring bright pastel colors that eventually fade in the latter stages of the film, bathing the film with familial warmth, as this appears to be a close-knit family, where the mother loves to bring her children to her live performances, like part of an extended family.  Generated by what the director describes as the “simplicity principle,” the film uses an interesting device, showing Solange being asked to read a Paul Verlaine poem in front of the class, yet she quickly hesitates and sits down, unable to continue, offering no apparent explanation, with the film backtracking in time through flashbacks, only to return to that same moment later in the film, this time getting deeper into the dramatic ramifications, as she’s overwhelmed by the emotional fallout from her family troubles, causing her an extreme degree of mental stress.  Parents never want to cause their children pain, but divorce is a tricky subject, often hidden from the rest of the world, where there are little daily explosions that everyone has to navigate, and there are no real guidelines of how to get through it.  Solange is a seemingly happy kid, developing an interest in a slightly older piano-playing classmate (Léo Ferreira), but he doesn’t seem to be particularly interested in her.  She is best friends with a tomboyish classmate Lili (Marthe Léon), with both doing a class presentation together on Swedish environmental activist Greta Thunberg, who is an inspiration to her generation for standing up for what she believes, a teenager challenging world leaders, failing to comprehend why so little is being done to reduce carbon emissions, credited for raising public awareness, especially among young people, becoming the youngest-ever Time magazine person of the year in 2019 at the age of 16, where they clearly share the same concerns for saving the planet, showing a wild enthusiasm for her principled advocacy.  Horrified that her parents appear to be drifting apart, as there appears to be no reconciliation for their problems, things really spiral out of control when she visits Gina (Chloé Astor), her father’s younger assistant at the music store, who is inexplicably wearing her father’s sweater, causing an outraged Solange to run out of the store in anger, shocked at what she sees. 

The knock on the film is that it grows very fragmented towards the end, not really following any recognizable timeline, where storywise it may not make sense, feeling more like a freefall of disturbing events.  The film’s greatest strength, on the other hand, is its probing tenderness and sensitivity in the inquisitive character of Solange, who is largely alone, separated from the other members of her family, as her brother runs off to Spain to study abroad, missing him terribly, while both parents are otherwise preoccupied, leaving her without the support of the adults around her.  In what is essentially a coming-of-age story, our expectations are tempered by the illusions of youth, who envision a better and more hopeful world, yet reality comes crashing in where you least expect it, as the most devastating moments in Solange’s life remain offscreen, forced to navigate her way through an unchartered wilderness.  A glaring hint lies in a movie poster on the wall of her school classroom, Luigi Comencini’s MISUNDERSTOOD (1966), a tale of childhood innocence suddenly having to come to terms with a death in the family.  Divorce is a comparable feeling, as you lose something in each parent, a loving trust that is no longer there, uprooted from that safety net, where there’s no more normal everyday life, suddenly forced to contend on your own, realizing something her father describes as “children and adults live in different worlds.”  The pain and helplessness she feels is written all over her face, where words can’t really express it, yet it’s communicated with poetic delicacy and cinematic modesty, with an undertone of operatic refrains from Italian singers.  Taking refuge from her parent’s incessant arguing, Solange spends a long time sitting alone in a café, because she simply doesn’t know where else to go, eyed suspiciously by the server, yet she’s stuck in a no man’s land without a clue what happens next.  Lost in despair, she begins wandering the streets alone, deluged by an absence of love, overwhelmed by a profound sadness, falling into the river one night under suspicious circumstances, where all we see is her blue scarf floating on the surface of the water, fleeting details that describe the enormity of her world falling apart, veering into unchartered territory.  After months in therapy for depression, she emerges with a new understanding, forced to contend with a new reality, but it doesn’t hide the profound melancholy and darker implications she feels when her parents decide to divorce and sell the house where she grew up, without anyone having told her, where the last family meal celebrating her 14th birthday takes place in the back garden of the house, a place she can no longer call her own, finding herself adrift on the winds of change, where the brutal loss of innocence becomes a harsh reality that fervently pierces the heart. 

Good One

 

Writer/director India Donaldson

actress Lily Collias

Donaldson with Lily Collias

The director on the set

GOOD ONE               B                                                                                                               USA  (89 mi)  2024  ‘Scope  d: India Donaldson

Premiering at Sundance in 2024, yet also widely circulating on the festival circuit, where it played in more than thirty different film festivals, including Director’s Fortnight at the Cannes Film Festival, yet very little has been heard about this film, flying completely under the radar, where this is about as minimalist a film as you could possible create, seemingly out of nothing, with no narrative to speak of, a portrait in miniature of passing into adulthood, yet it’s all bathed in the pristine naturalism of a 3-day backpacking trek through the national forest of the Catskills in upstate New York.  While it bears a resemblance to Kelly Reichardt’s early film Old Joy (2006), which may be the cinematic template for this film, it lacks the sly homoeroticism and 60’s counterculture vibe of that film, which was shot in the rugged Oregon Cascade mountains of the Pacific northwest, instead approaching the subject through the lens of a generational divide.  It may also recall the outsider father/daughter dynamic living off the grid deep in the woods from Debra Granik’s remarkable 2018 Top Ten List #5 Leave No Trace.  Pared down to its bare bones, there’s little to no story, as not much happens, where this is about as low-key as you can get, more of a character study with nuance that is deceptively simple, where what lies beneath the surface is everything.  The daughter of New Zealand filmmaker Roger Donaldson (one of the many producers), having grown up in the business, this is the director’s debut feature, written with an eye on minute details, where if you blink you’ll miss what’s happening here, as it’s about as subtle a film as you’ll ever see, with a few interesting 70’s and 80’s choices of alternative music, like Kay Gardner - Touching Souls YouTube (5:45), Kevyn Dymond - Endless Present [US] Psych Folk (1984) YouTube (3:16), or a Nico and the Velvet Underground sounding Moonlove - All Your Mysteries YouTube (2:45).  Lily Collias in her first leading role is 17-year old Sam, a girl from Brooklyn in a relationship with another girl, mostly unseen except through text messages, just weeks away from heading off to college, becoming the central figure of the film as she embarks on a weekend excursion with two divorced dads, her own, Chris, James Le Gros from Kelly Reichardt’s Certain Women (2016), and his longtime best friend Matt, Danny McCarthy from the Coen brother’s The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018).  The total opposite of a Hollywood depiction, this trimmed down, offbeat approach is much more authentic, capturing the human experience in such a raw and visceral way, where nothing feels overly forced, accentuating what’s left unspoken, with a continual back and forth between these three characters, yet right from the outset there is turbulence, as Matt’s teenage son Dylan was also supposed to go, but abruptly refuses at the last minute, which is seen as part of the collateral damage from the recent divorce, still angry at his dad, blaming him for their separation.  Every child has that moment when they realize their own parents are flawed.  And while there is plenty of muttering under his breath, Matt is resigned to go without him, but it’s an inauspicious sign undermining whatever good intentions were originally planned.  Essentially a coming-of-age, father-daughter movie, but not a conventional one, with Matt serving as a comic relief sidekick and the butt of all jokes, continually making cocky and potentially offensive statements, as the filmmaker plays around with audience expectations and how easy it is to ignore the warning signs, where you never know what lies ahead as they head into the woods.    

Another film that was developed during the pandemic, allowing Donaldson an opportunity to spend time building her fictionalized characters, inspired by how an isolated environment could draw out family dynamics, often in funny and unexpected ways, creating something that was intimate and emotionally contained.  Ostensibly a buddy movie between two bickering old friends whose competing egos are a handful, continually airing long-held grievances, both seemingly suffering from a midlife crisis, chirping at one another endlessly, much of it dealing with their own personal regrets, with an overcontrolling Chris coming across as a self-absorbed know-it-all, who left Sam’s mother for a younger woman (she cheated first is his rationale), while the more anxiously insecure Matt wallows in his combustible feelings, with Sam silently sitting in the middle, occasionally acting as the arbitrar, continually trying to smooth things over.  Everything happens very slowly, as this film is painstakingly patient, allowing the words to sit with viewers and resonate, where it’s never anything profound, but more a reflection of their wounded state of mind, where both men come across as damaged goods with frazzled nerves, who tend to get tipsy, bringing along a flask, where they seem to be their own worst enemies, all but ignoring Sam, who may as well be invisible.  After spending the night in a one-roomed motel with two beds, and Sam sleeping on the floor, where the guys spend most of the evening in the bar, they get up early the next day, with Chris finding fault with everything Matt decides to pack, or overpack, as he’s brought any number of useless items, perhaps a metaphor for that overcluttered brain of his.  Yet once on the trail, the verdant scenery couldn’t be more calming and peaceful, enraptured by the sound of babbling brooks, where there’s a reason people visit these places, as it’s like a religious experience cleansing the soul.  Dad always takes the lead, like a military reconnaissance mission, with Sam a short distance behind, while Matt always brings up the rear.  It’s not your typical adventure, with a designated place in mind, instead it simply allows the wind and forest sounds to seep into their consciousness, changing up the landscape, altering the routines, discovering the beauty of the great outdoors.  Of course, there are other things that stand out, like not disturbing the environment, or attracting bears, so it’s important to bury waste products and keep all food covered, things Sam has already learned and does automatically, as respecting the environment they are in is an essential aspect of the journey, maintaining a balance at all times.  Who knew that the greatest risk of all was her own femininity?  They appear to be well-educated campers, so when they set up camp for the night, it comes as a surprise when three other male hikers stop to camp right next to them, taking advantage of the shared company.  This may not be what everyone desires, as who likes to feel crowded in the open terrain of the wilderness, but no one makes a fuss.  However, any male threat they pose to Sam, who suddenly finds herself overwhelmed and completely ignored by a sea of masculinity, is immediately overlooked in the interest of getting along and having a good time. 

While the lush beauty and contemplative atmosphere are the real highlight, what stands out is that Sam, who can be sullen at times, is wise beyond her years, seemingly acting more adult than the adults, where she actually says the least, yet her character stands out the most, assuredly connecting with her inner self, confidently saying so much largely through facial expressions, as she does not miss much, ultimately becoming the heart of the movie.  Being female and gay, her life is radically different from these two adult men whose lives are constantly in turmoil, thinking only of themselves, having little time for her, which this film makes very apparent.  Matt is something of an unfiltered chatterbox, but his emotions are raw, out there and exposed, coming up with the weirdest things to say, some of which is easily ignored, while other things can stick with you.  Chris is more tightly wound and reserved, used to managing his emotions and keeping them in check, yet it’s clear he loves and respects his daughter, but his measured tone can feel awkwardly stiff, like he’s playing a role, hiding what he really feels deep inside.  Both men have been deeply wounded by marriage and divorce, something that tore a hole in them, with frustrations literally seeping out of them, where this trip is an attempt to heal those open wounds.  There’s a delicate progression to the film, as the characters come to life, personalities are revealed, with viewers rewarded by glorious waterfalls and some magnificent vistas overlooking a glistening blue lake down below.  Their habits become known to us, with Sam being the responsible “good one,” actually preparing the meals, while also seen cleaning the cooking utensils by rubbing dirt in the bowls, as water is a precious commodity, used sparingly.  There is no cellphone reception deep into the forest, so they are disconnected from the outside world, having only themselves, becoming something of a family unit, with Sam and her dad sharing one tent, while Matt has the other, even bringing foldable chairs to sit on in camp.  There’s a moment that takes us aback, as Matt drunkenly blurts out something that inappropriately crosses a line, with Sam doing a doubletake, not at all amused, shocked at what she hears, but this happens organically, with no dramatic overtones, yet clearly Sam is offended.  The next day when she tries to tell her dad about it, he tries to minimize her outrage, hoping to lessen the impact, telling her to suck it up and not ruin the trip, but his apathy only makes things worse, as the damage has been done, and the floodgates have been opened.  It couldn’t be more quietly devastating, but Sam’s behavior afterwards reveals everything, telling us all that we need to know without any words being spoken.  The subtlety on display is impressive, carving out its own path, but the drama, what little there is, is more about the power of observation, allowing each individual viewer to come to their own conclusions, with an abrupt ending that really has no resolution, but exudes in the power of silence.  Shot in just 12 days by Wilson Cameron, a former visual effects producer, where the rhythm of the film is unwavering, capturing the beauty of the forest, with close-up shots of plants and insects, along with some interesting rock formations, and more than a few unexpected surprises, accompanied by an original score by Celia Hollander that never intrudes, but its ethereal presence is felt throughout.  In the end credits, special thanks are given to indie staples David Gordon Green and Larry Fessenden.