Spring Blossom (Seize printemps)

 

Writer/director/actress Suzanne Lindon

director on the set

SPRING BLOSSOM (Seize printemps)                    B+                                                               France  (73 mi)  2020  ‘Scope  d: Suzanne Lindon

Having worked together in co-writing the Claire Denis film The Fence (Le Cri des Gardes) (2025), Denis acknowledged having known Lindon since she was a little girl, as she is the daughter of frequently used French actor Vincent Lindon, who starred in her films VENDREDI SOIR (2002), 2013 Top Ten List #6 Bastards (Les Salauds), and Both Sides of the Blade (Avec amour et acharnement) (2022), while her mother is French actress Sandrine Kiberlain, from Maïwenn’s Polisse (2011) and André Téchiné’s Being 17 (Quand on a 17 ans) (2016).  What may be most astonishing is that the young first-time director wrote the script when she was just 15, during the summer before she started high school, and then starred in and directed the film at age 19, recalling Xavier Dolan’s 2010 Top Ten Films of the Year: #7 I Killed My Mother (J’ai Tue Ma Mere) (2009), which was written at the age of 16, placing himself in the lead role and then directed at the age of 19, with both films premiering at the Cannes Film Festival.  This is a subversive take on a coming-of-age genre seen through the impressionable eyes of a young Parisian high school girl named Suzanne, played by the director, exploring the turbulence of adolescence and the allure of first love, where the degree of restraint shown here is uncommon.  The fierce independence of the lead character was an attempt by the director to establish her own identity, hoping to claim creative autonomy from her better known parents.  As we witness how curiosity is so essential to development, Lindon wanted to explore the mindset of a young girl who imagines a more intense reality with an older man and longs to grow up quickly, where it’s more about developing a sense of curiosity and wonderment, exploring first love and youthful curiosity through unspoken glances and dance, only to realize the value of her actual age.  Premiering as one of the First Features at Cannes in 2020, when the festival was largely a virtual experience due to the outbreak of Covid, literally getting lost during the pandemic, the film defies expectations, as it’s not at all what we’re used to seeing, as it navigates a young girl’s infatuation with an older 35-year old man named Raphaël, Arnaud Valois from Robin Campillo’s 2017 Top Ten List #8 BPM (Beats Per Minute (120 battements par minute), yet avoids cliché’s, sexual exploitation, and sensationalism and instead embraces the subtleties of curiosity and self-discovery.  Their intimate moments onscreen together are shown with absolute originality.  Sort of the gender opposite of Agnès Varda’s KUNG-FU MASTER! (1988), with Jane Birkin playing a lonely 40-year old mother who develops a tender, unconventional romance with her daughter's 14-year-old classmate, played by Varda’s real-life son, Mathieu Demy, this film stands in stark contrast to the lurid sexual teen exposé of Maurice Pialat’s À Nos Amours (To Our Loves) (1983), where there’s even a poster in her room of the lead 15-year old character Sandrine Bonnaire, also named Suzanne, who uses sex as a means of rebellion and escape, or Catherine Breillat’s 36 Fillette (1988), showing a brazenly sexual affair of a teen girl and an older man.  These films take us back to our early teenage years when we craved anything new, bored by the stifling monotony of everyday life where nothing ever changed, seemingly stuck in time, always searching for something more, but having no idea how to find it, all of which suggests the life of a teenage girl is more complicated than we thought.   

Moved by the performance of River Phoenix in Sidney Lumet’s Running On Empty (1988), this tender and often poetic introspection of the moods and anxieties of teenagers recalls Gia Coppola’s Palo Alto (2013).  With delicately refined intimacy and an understated elegance, though told in a minimalist and understated social realist style, this contemplative coming-of-age romance resembles a documentary, where the details of ordinary life are stifling and oppressive, as Suzanne finds it hard to relate to boys her age, as they’re so immature, lacking anything resembling intelligence or imagination, yet she’s surrounded by them at school, finding it hard to take any of them seriously.  Always on the edge of conversations, not really listening or paying attention to the groups she’s hanging out with, yet still part of the social scene of her adolescent world, Suzanne comes from a book-filled home with liberal parents, including a supportive mother (Florence Viala from la Comédie-Française), and her busy yet affectionate father, Frédéric Pierrot from François Ozon’s Young & Beautiful (Jeune & Jolie) (2013) and By the Grace of God (Grâce à Dieu) (2019), who are very contemporary in their understanding of their daughters, which also includes a more sociable and energetic older sister Marie, Rebecca Marder from Ozon’s The Crime Is Mine (Mon Crime) (2023) and The Stranger (L'étranger) (2025).  Nothing about her life stands out, as she’s apparently bored and unchallenged even while living in the heart of the picturesque Montmartre district in the 18th arrondissement of Paris and rarely goes out, which her family finds a bit odd, yet despite a quiet and studious presence, she does well in school.  Every day on her way to high school, she passes the Théâtre de l’Atelier, often seeing one of the actors sitting out front having a smoke or sitting in the outdoor café, appearing melancholy and as equally disconnected as she is, where she begins to incorporate Raphaël into her life, even if it’s only in her imagination.  In the dense interiority of adolescence, imagination plays a more prominent role, perhaps even surpassing reality, which may be the epitome of the teenage experience.  In one scene, she is seen kissing her reflection in a mirror, in another she watches as his scooter breaks down, or she sneaks into the theater to watch his rehearsals, showing a keen eye for some of the minute details of the performing arts, yet she is literally transported into this new world.  Suddenly immersed in the world of grown-ups and adult choices, Suzanne begins questioning the pitfalls of blossoming too quickly and missing out on life, namely that of a 16-year-old, which she had struggled so much to enjoy in the same way as her peers.  A character study instead of plot-driven film, Lindon doesn’t shy away from the open contradictions, revealing just how intelligent, observant, yet also extremely naïve she is, developing into a romantic fantasy, where this is the antithesis of the way teens are typically portrayed, usually driven by Lolita-esque sexualized desires and self-centered motivations, or creepy predatory behavior from older men, but there’s an elegant sweetness to the very chaste way this plays out, which brings something entirely different to the viewing experience, allowing us to imagine how quietly romantic a first love really can be, in all its innocence and rhapsodic elegance, as we’re literally experiencing what she experiences, where a schoolgirl crush gets viewed as real love.

By the time she decides to sit in the same café at a neighboring table, seemingly caught up in a Boris Vian book she’s reading, drinking a non-alcoholic mix of grenadine and lemonade, it’s impossible for Raphaël not to notice, so it’s only polite that he say something, yet what happens boggles the mind, as it’s not at all what we expect.  The whole thing plays out like a wistful dream, like maybe it happened, or maybe it didn’t, where it’s all about suggesting a mood, yet the character certainly imagines that it happened, and that’s what the viewers experience, as it becomes something positively delightful, a choreographed table dance right out of the Charlie Chaplin catalogue, similar to the Dance of the Dinner Rolls, “The Oceana Roll” scene from THE GOLD RUSH (1925), Bread dance | "The Gold Rush" YouTube (1:31), yet heard over headphones set to the wondrous music of Vivaldi’s Stabat Mater, with a gorgeous song sung by countertenor Andreas Scholl, both closing their eyes while synchronously moving their hands and facial movements to the music like a table ballet, Spring Blossom - Clip (2020) YouTube (3:41).  This completely alters the tone of the film, as we’ve entered imaginary realms, which is where this film lingers for a good portion of time, using synchronized dance numbers and choreographed movement as a physical language to express unspoken emotions and the abstract intensity of young desire.  Suzanne can be seen joyfully skipping and dancing down the street after being invited on her first date, seen miming the lyrics of French singer Christophe’s catchy hit Señorita YouTube (2:54), reminiscent of Léos Carax in Mauvais Sang (Bad Blood) (1986), with Denis Lavant seen stumbling, cart-wheeling, and then sprinting down the street in a blur of sheer exhilaration set to the music of David Bowie’s Modern Love, Mauvais Sang (Leos Carax, 1986) - Modern Love YouTube (5:06), also emulated by Greta Gerwig in Frances Ha [2013] - Dance in the street - YouTube (1:08), each expressing a sudden rush of youthful liberation, one of those giddy outbursts of spontaneous emotion, followed shortly afterwards with Suzanne doing a slow dance with her mother at home.  Despite the obvious age differences, both are dealing with their own personal struggles, as Raphaël is a frustrated stage actor who has grown tired of reciting the same lines night after night, with Lindon focusing on a shared sense of ennui rather than a physical romance, showing no interest in over-sexualizing her, where there’s no sex, nothing creepy, and not even a full-blown kiss, instead utilizing expressive dance sequences to show an emotional connection.  Shot in ‘Scope, cinematographer Jérémie Attard tenderly captures the intensity of these fleeting moments, as Raphaël does little more than gallantly kiss her hand or gently nuzzle her neck, as we watch them contemplatively staring out at the world or at each other, both caught up in their own silent thoughts, with Suzanne abruptly deciding to pull back before things escalate, crying in her mother’s arms afterwards, “I fell in love with an adult.”  This is a different kind of first love movie, subverting all expectations, as not much happens, yet everything happens, if you’re capable of reading the signs, with Lindon herself singing over the end credits in a very distinct French style, which could just as easily have been from movies of the 60’s or 70’s, Seize Printemps - Suzanne Lindon ⌈sub english⌋ YouTube (2:33).

Tribute to Frederic Wiseman: Ballet

 

Alessandra Ferri

Director Frederic Wiseman

Choreographer Agnes De Mille

BALLET           A                                                                                                                     USA  (170 mi)  1995  d: Frederick Wiseman

This is one of the most joyous and loving films on record, where without a word of narration, we immerse ourselves in both the onstage and behind-the-scenes cast and crew of the American Ballet Theater, profiling the managing administrators, principal and supporting dancers and choreographers as the company prepares for its European Tour in 1992.  Wiseman gives viewers an inside glimpse at what it takes to successfully stage a ballet production including rehearsals, business dealings, dancer recruitment, makeup application, photo shoots, costume fittings, and interviews with the press.  The camera is completely unobtrusive and beautifully captures the flavor and personality of the various ballet choreographers as they work with their dancers in daily rehearsals at the company’s Lower Manhattan studio, usually shown in long single takes without cuts, although the positions of the camera may change, as even if the same dance is repeated, it’s filmed differently.  Former dancers themselves, each rehearsal is superbly presented, endlessly repeated, exhibiting a performance-ready flair where they are learning to refine the interpretation, essentially a performance art film emphasizing the collaborative nature of ballet.  The film begins with a sunrise before taking us inside the studio, as the work begins with the first light of dawn, where right off the bat we witness dancers warming up, as we are lured into this intoxicating world of precision and grace, as many cutaways and transitional shots show dancers stretching, warming up, watching other dancers rehearse, and sometimes just resting.  Twice we see the staff physiotherapist working on dancers’ aching muscles, and several more are waiting to see her, reminding us that at the core these are fine-tuned athletes performing with seemingly effortless agility, with one dancer receiving the sobering prognosis that the injury might take a full year to heal.  These bodies may stretch in what seem like fantastic positions, as we see in the film’s opening montage, but they have physical limits, with one ballerina even speaking with the artistic director about personal concerns involving aging and the demands of her multiple roles.  The choreographers occasionally let their own bodies demonstrate, which is one of the most wondrous aspects of the film, particularly when we’re allowed to witness the impeccable movements of Irina Kolpakova, a former prima ballerina for the Kirov Ballet who is now a coach, whose love for the art simply can’t be contained in her outgoing smile and elegantly flowing body movements.  The poor lead dancer from the company (Susan Jaffe) pales in comparison during the rehearsal session, working together for several repeated takes, revealing the difficulty of the dance, but it’s a unique opportunity to learn from one of the greatest ballerinas in history.  Later we see her being interviewed with the aid of a Russian interpreter and her buoyant energy, her love for dance remains vibrantly alive even after she has retired from performing, which may as well be the theme for the film. 

Wiseman typically shuns narration, emphasizing the subject over individuality, but one of the film’s limitations throughout is the lack of information about who these choreographers and dancers are, many of them legendary in their own right, or what dances are being performed.  Case in point, one of the choreographers turns out to be the legendary Agnes de Mille, the niece of Cecil B. DeMille, now a gruff, plain-speaking elder spokeswoman in the last year of her life who directs from a wheelchair as she rehearses her final piece, “The Other,” occasionally spouting out sounds as directions.  “You must look like something that’s absolutely broken, and stuck up in the wind,” she tells Amanda McKerrow, her star.  Another unidentified dancer gets an eruption of applause from people witnessing her flawless execution in a rehearsal room, while another rehearses to the music of Schubert German Lieder, where the exquisite voice of the man singing at the piano only complements this art form, a wonderful merger of music and dance movement.  Early on in rehearsals, where we can see other dancers practicing off to the side during the main rehearsals, we witness the jubilant moves of percussion-laced, African-influenced dance, whose choreographer is black (Ulysses Dove), a man who can’t stop himself from being delighted by what he sees, joining in with the dancers himself, creating a brilliantly flowing work that is simply sublime, perhaps the dance of the entire film, as it veers away from established practices of traditional ballet execution and invents a new technique expressing a feeling of complete liberation, where the men and women dip and flow together miraculously in rhythm, simply an infectious feeling of energized delight, where it’s hard not to be affected by the transcendent power of art.  Interspersed with these rehearsals are dancers resting, laying on their backs in hallways bracing their legs up against the wall or getting massage treatments for specialized ailments, or we see Jane Hermann, the company director, on the phone attempting to head off foreseeable problems, explaining to the owner of a prospective venue the actual costs and considerable logistics involved in producing live ballet.  In addition to the dancers, we are reminded there is the orchestra, transportation, advertising, stagehands, per diems, and so on.  She also confronts inopportune disasters head on, where her linguistic skills, which are as precise as the dancer’s moves, turn incendiary and graphic when she learns they’ve been unexpectedly undercut by a “Russian” Kirov Ballet troupe that will be preceding them the week before their tour, programmed by the Metropolitan Opera without her knowledge, which will not only cut into the financial proceeds but duplicate some of the exact same dances, which she anticipates will drive the ticket sales down.  The contrast between the elation from the effortless freedom of dance movements and being double crossed by your own business partner couldn’t be more pronounced, but both are part of the same artistic enterprise.

The mood of the film changes when they get to their European destinations and finally perform onstage, literally opening up their world and liberating them from the endless hours of rehearsals, spending a week in the outdoor Acropolis in Athens, where nightfall is illuminated by the moonlight, also performing in Rome and Copenhagen, where the dances are filmed using only two cameras, one in front zooming in or out while meticulously following a precise path of movement, not always following the lead action, sometimes sticking with off-lead performers, but always capturing the beauty of the moment.  Another camera is just offstage, a memorable view in Chaplin’s LIMELIGHT (1952), which is able to capture a different line of movement from the side angle.  These two cameras are amazingly effective, lead camera by John Davey, assistant camera by film director Lodge Kerrigan, the maker of CLAIRE DOLAN (1998) and KEANE (2004), who also worked with Wiseman in Tribute to Frederic Wiseman: High School II (1994), and essentially offer the viewer front row seats.  The speed of the free-flowing movements from multiple directions can at times resemble slow motion or fast action photography, but everything is filmed in natural time, shooting in long takes mostly without close-ups.  The authenticity of the performances is one of the special features of the film, as is the action captured offstage after the performances, such as the next day under a brilliant sun when the company hits the beach, or spends time together having fun on the roller coaster and carnival rides at Tivoli in Copenhagen, and most especially at a night club one night when the company hits the dance floor, an unforgettable picture of these dancers letting loose, where their undeniable rhythm and grace is nothing less than phenomenal.  Always in these group moments there is plenty of camaraderie, applause, and joyous laughter, balancing the precision of performance with moments of carefree joy.  Traveling informally with this relaxed group is an unexpected delight, which when added to the pleasure of witnessing them perform onstage at such a high level of expertise just increases our appreciation for them over time, closing with long scenes from Romeo and Juliet, where at one point Romeo runs toward the wings in a moment of dramatic blocking, as if he were running toward the camera and directly towards us, becoming so much more effective than seeing it from a distance live on stage, ending as the lovers depart from the balcony scene, where we’re in the midst of the story, as if it never ends.  Despite the 3-hour running time, this is a near perfect film.  There isn’t a moment that doesn’t radiate with a special degree of warmth and love, a film that may produce tears of joy from the sheer beauty of it all, leaving the viewer with a feeling that you just might want to share this with the whole world.

Some of the music and principal performers:

Tchaikovsky’s “Sleeping Beauty” and “Swan Lake,” Cesar Frank’s “Symphonic Variations for Piano and Orchestra,” Bruch’s “Violin Concerto No. 1,” Stravinsky’s “Rite of Spring,” and Prokofiev’s “Romeo and Juliet.”   

Choreographers/ballet masters: Agnes de Mille, Irina Kolpakova, David Richardson, Georgina Parkinson, Natalia Makarova, and Michael Somes.

Principal dancers: Alessandra Ferri, Cynthia Harvey, Susan Jaffe, José Carreño, Amanda McKerrow, Christine Dunham, Robert Hill, Julio Bocca, Julie Kent, Angel Corella, and Wes Chapman.

Performers

The Other – Amanda McKerrow                                                                                                  Bruch “Violin Concerto” – Robert Hill and Julie Kent                                                                  Prokofiev “Romeo and Juliet” – Alessandra Ferri and Julio Bocca                                            Tchaikovsky “Swan Lake” – Susan Jaffe and José Carreño                                                        Stravinsky “Rite of Spring” – too many to name

Choreographers

Kenneth MacMillan … “Romeo and Juliet,” “Sleeping Beauty”                                                    Glen Tetley … “The Rite of Spring”                                                                                              Frederick Ashton … “Symphonic Variations”                                                                                Clark Tippet … “Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1”                                                                              Agnes de Mille … “The Other”                                                                                                      Ulysses Dove … “Red Angels”