The Fence (Le Cri des Gardes)

 

Director Claire Denis

THE FENCE (Le Cri des Gardes)      B                                                                                 France  Senegal  USA  (109 mi)  2025  d: Claire Denis

Claire Denis goes back to her roots for this one, an adaptation written by Denis, Suzanne Lindon (daughter of frequent Denis actor Vincent Lindon), and Andrew Litvack in an English language version of the 1979 allegorical play by French playwright Bernard-Marie Koltès, who was inspired by Samuel Beckett, that depicts a tense nocturnal confrontation between white managers and black laborers at a British multinational construction site at an isolated, neocolonial outpost in West Africa, where colonial plantations with soldiers have now been replaced by corporate work contracts in a film deeply rooted in symbolism, decidedly more abstract than most of her other work.  During a trip to Lagos, Nigeria in 1978, Koltès witnessed a black workman die at a construction site, an event that drew little concern from the white foremen, which forced him to confront the casual racism and violence that Europeans directed toward Africans.  Denis met Ivory Coast actor Isaach de Bankolé while she was writing the screenplay for her first film Chocolat (1988), which was shot in Cameroon where Denis grew up as the daughter of a French colonial official and starred Bankolé, discovering he was a close friend of the playwright, starring in three of his plays before Koltès died of complications from AIDS in 1989, which is how she discovered his plays, where one in particular stood out in her mind, Black Battles with Dog, as it connected to her childhood of growing up in Africa.  In Nigeria, specifically a construction site, Koltès discovered English is spoken between whites and blacks, where the excessive politeness and distinct use of the word “sir” belies the racist anger and hidden violence that lies underneath the surface just simmering to explode.  Denis is a French director who spent much of her childhood in West and Central Africa colonial outposts, which deeply influences her films, exploring themes of colonialism, isolation, and the complex relationships between Europeans and the African continent, where this is her fourth film set in Africa, including Chocolat (1988), a semi-autobiographical depiction of her childhood in colonial Cameroon, Beau Travail (1999), visually exploring the rigid, ritualistic lives of the French Foreign Legion, confined to their base in Djibouti on the northeast African coast, and White Material (2009), where Isabelle Huppert plays a stubborn French coffee farmer refusing to flee her colonial land during a civil uprising from an unnamed, war-torn African country.  Continually subverting expectations, what these films have in common is native black African cultures being wiped out by white European influences, fueled by hypocrisy and corruption, often through racist male privilege and toxic masculinity, which runs rampant throughout this film, with a Tindersticks musical cue taken from her earlier film WHITE MATERIAL, Tindersticks "Children's Theme" -- Claire Denis Film Scores ... YouTube (2:04), that plays over the end credits, eloquently described by Denis, “This piece of music broke my heart at that time,” noting that using it “once was not enough,” Watchtowers in the Wilderness: Claire Denis on “The Fence”.    

The film opens poetically with an African mother laying a palm leaf on a pool of blood in the desert sand, while there’s also CGI references of a snarling white dog viciously attacking pieces of human organs.  Two African brothers lay shirtless in the sand side by side, but only one appears to be alive, Alboury (Isaach de Bankolé), evoking a parable about a biting dog before concluding, “White man’s fantasy are the black man’s nightmare.”  Following themes of racism, colonialism, and gender, this is a film that dares to confront uncomfortable truths about Western exploitation and power dynamics, as we are introduced to a non-local white engineer named Cal (Tom Blyth), seen driving a truck while boisterously singing along to a Midnight Oil song from the 80’s, Midnight Oil - Beds Are Burning (Official Video), HD ... YouTube (4:33), a rock anthem on Aboriginal land rights that asks, “How do we sleep while our beds are burning?”  We soon find ourselves in a massive industrial refinery outpost of strung-together shipping containers and looming oil drums surrounded by barbed wire, with armed guard towers watching over, where the African guards speak to one another in the Yoruba language, which is fairly widespread in West Africa, but completely indecipherable to most whites living there.  The stage is set with the introduction of a world-weary construction supervisor Horn (Matt Dillon, a close friend of Isaach de Bankolé), who out of the corner of his eye sees an African man smartly dressed in a suit and tie pacing just on the other side of the fence, Alboury, who speaks Yoruba with the guards, allowing him entrance through the first gate, portrayed with a quiet intensity, announcing he’s there to claim the body of his brother, Nouofia.  The ever-evasive Horn, a picture of colonial arrogance, claims he died in a construction accident, an all-too-common occurrence, but it’s a horrible tragedy, cordially inviting the man to join him for a whisky where they can discuss the matter.  But Alboury does not budge, politely refusing the offer, claiming he wants the body as soon as possible as their mother is in mourning, crying and wailing relentlessly, which he aims to stop by bringing the body.  Horn is willing to accommodate his request, even offering a small sum of money, described as “funds of retribution,” but not until the next day, which Alboury deems unacceptable, as Western style negotiations are worthless with someone who is fluent in the language of oppression.  The entire film surrounds this non-negotiable impasse, with the film’s title operating on multiple levels, with a visible fence that separates the construction facility from the surrounding community, but the larger barriers are invisible, reflected internally by each of the characters, as the film shifts from the filmmaker’s usual impressionistic style to a more direct approach.

Like Jean Genet and other absurdist writers, Koltès felt exiled as a homosexual in a heterosexual world, while also growing painfully aware of his own skin color and the repressive history and the power structure it represents in Africa, where land and resources were plundered by European colonial powers, completely ignoring native interests and cultures, fueled by centuries-old racist beliefs that blacks were ignorant and subhuman.  The dangerous and unpredictable Cal is seen again picking up a woman at the airport, Léonie (Mia McKenna-Bruce), Horn’s recent wife arriving from London, adding further psychological strain to the volatile environment.  A lone woman in an all-male landscape, much like Isabelle Huppert in White Material (2009), she quickly becomes an object of desire, whose mere presence is provocative enough, but her revealing attire and stiletto heels add another layer of intrigue and sexual tension, as the men see only one thing – sex, with an always condescending Cal drinking the couple’s celebratory marital champagne while continually pestering her and nonchalantly coming on to her, even in the presence of his boss who sent for her, like the mail-order bride in François Truffaut’s MISSISSIPPI MERMAID (1969).  Cal represents the archetypal racist colonizer, whose violent rage is activated by Nouofia’s perceived disrespect by wanting to leave an hour before closing time, and later, when he sees Horn negotiating with Alboury, he worries that the foreman will sell him out for the deadly way he handled it, where even the idea of his boss listening to a black man pisses him off.  Examining the racial root of this barbaric act of violence shows the lengths men will go to in order to make a bad situation even worse, where the opening dream sequence features Cal’s lost dog.  Shot in Senegal by Éric Gautier, the longtime cinematographer for Olivier Assayas and Alain Resnais, while also shooting the two previous Denis films, Both Sides of the Blade (Avec amour et acharnement) (2022) and Stars at Noon (2022), this can be read as a fable about the evils of neocolonialism, yet there’s still plenty of underlying poetry, worlds of ambivalence, and multiple layers of ambiguity.  The slow-moving film is about an encounter built on desire, hatred, and frustration among three men and a woman divided by everything, as there’s simply no place for her there, which becomes apparent almost immediately, as the fortress-like look of the place resembles a prison, keeping natives from intruding, yet also keeping those residing there trapped inside, amplifying the psychological tension.  This is a dialogue-heavy, tense study of space and shifting power dynamics between white occupiers and black laborers, where the fence in the film acts as a border between the privileged white compound and the local African workers, representing deeply ingrained systems of post-colonial exploitation.

Set in a largely abandoned construction site where they pave roads through the bush for economic development, with bulldozers and hastily constructed barracks, the atmosphere, unfolding mostly at night, is dreamlike, deeply psychological, bordering on the supernatural.  At night, the guards, all of them black carrying automatic weapons, in order to keep themselves from falling asleep, would call out to one another with strange melodic sounds, which is what made Denis decide to call it The Cry of the Guards (Le Cris des Gardes), the first adaptation of a play and the first movie she ever shot in sequence, mostly defined by a nocturnal space, which she believes best suits what Koltès had in mind.  Koltès understood that writing in the name of Africans would redouble the colonizer’s violence, so instead he presents Alboury as the colonizer’s nightmare, one who answers the most human call for mourning, but who ends as a powerful and uncompromising avenger against white oppression.  While the workers try to normalize the death, claiming it’s something that happens all the time, Alboury’s refusal to capitulate to the white demands alters our perception, forcing viewers to look beneath the surface, as this begins to feel more and more like a cover up, with echoes of Greek tragedy, as Alboury’s spectral-like presence acts like a Greek Chorus, like a persistent force of moral consciousness, eventually viewed by his white counterparts as an act of aggression, bringing to bear something that doesn’t really exist within the compound, namely any sense of justice.  This takes the film into deeper philosophical levels, becoming a morality play, where the outsider, Léonie, learns as we learn, as it’s not at all what she was led to believe, including the man she presumably loves, discovering she is completely unprepared for this environment, as she watches the disaster play out before her in a haunted space filled with a mix of desire and terror.  There are any number of different directions that might be imagined in our heads as we’re watching this, but the film refuses to abide by convention, feeling more like a poetic allegory, with Horn and Cal managing their own fears and isolation, which immediately brings to mind Valerio Zurlini’s film THE DESERT OF THE TARTARS (1976), which is about the relentless psychological torment from an outpost on the edge of nowhere where an isolated platoon sits awaiting the threat of attack from an unseen enemy.  Haunted by a lurking dread of an impending sense of doom, Horn and Cal are exacerbated by a similar fear of the unknown, psychologically projecting their own fears into the minds of others, which eats at the inner core of these men who literally unravel before our eyes, living in a world abandoned by time. 

Who By Fire (Comme le feu)

 

Director Philippe Lesage

WHO BY FIRE (Comme le feu)        B                                                                              Canada  France  (161 mi)  2024  ‘Scope  d: Philippe Lesage

Allegedly inspired by the Leonard Cohen song by the same name, Leonard Cohen - Who By Fire (Official Live in London 2008) YouTube (6:26), with its links to the Jewish Yom Kippur prayer Unetanneh Tokef and its references to death, but it is also a song about our life journey and how our experiences, good and bad, welcome and unwelcome, shape the person we become.  With many believing he is the heir apparent to Québécois filmmaker Denys Arcand, Lesage is a Canadian director, screenwriter, producer, photographer, and actor who got his start directing documentary films before transitioning to autobiographical-inspired fictional films, winner of the Generation 14plus Grand Prix at Berlinale 2024, which explores youth perspectives, often with challenging, authentic, and unconventional storytelling, carving out the psychological contours of teenagers finding their paths through treacherous emotional landscapes.  While there are many good things about this film, it’s still a bit confusing and off-putting, as some of the characters exist, but are nearly invisible, fading into the woodworks, which matches the darkened palette with an almost Rembrandt looking framing, where things easily disappear into the darkness.  Also the backstory, whatever it may be, is entirely absent, so whatever history these characters have remains a mystery.  For instance, there is the presence of legendary French actress Irène Jacob, a fixture in Kieślowski’s THE DOUBLE LIFE OF VÉRONIQUE (1991) and THREE COLORS TRILOGY: RED (1994), yet she is barely utilized, appearing only briefly in a role with little consequence.  Instead the focus is on the fragility of the male ego, mostly explored through long, tense shots set against the unforgiving Canadian wilderness, highlighting how nature reflects and dismantles the characters’ fragile mindset, whether it be an adult or child perspective.  Exploring complex, messy relationships and shifting power dynamics during a secluded wilderness retreat, the film centers on teenage filmmaker wannabe Jeff (Noah Parker), who is clearly trying to find himself, searching for approval from adult role models, but instead encounters a disoriented and unhinged world of adult insecurities, artistic ego, and failed mentorship while visiting an acclaimed director he greatly admires.  With a predominance of atmosphere and mood setting the stage, there’s an interesting use of interior dream sequences, where it’s not always recognizable just whose dream we are seeing.  17-year-old Jeff accompanies the family of his best friend, Max (Antoine Marchand Gagnon), his intellectually neurotic screenwriting father Albert (Paul Ahmarani), and Max’s self-asserting, college-aged older sister, Aliocha (Aurélia Arandi-Longpré in her first feature role), an aspiring writer he has a secret crush on, named after the saintly youngest brother from Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, heading to the secluded home of well-known filmmaker and avid outdoorsman Blake Cadieux (Arieh Worthalter) in what is meant to be a happy reunion between two longtime friends and collaborators, but instead of a welcoming occasion, things spin out of control in suffocating fashion, as it dissolves into tension-filled confrontations of vanity and masculinity, where you see the grownups through the eyes and the sensitivity of the young protagonists who are struggling to figure out who they are in the face of outrageous misbehavior on the part of their “role models.”  

Opening in a car traveling down the highway sequence that resembles the opening of Christian Petzold’s Afire (Roter Himmel) (2023), or the opening of Gus van Sant’s GERRY, Gerry [2002] Gus Van Sant YouTube (4:27), where it’s even the same car, an old Mercedes, set to the ambient electronic track of The House in the Woods’ Grounded YouTube (9:38), a darkly moody and haunting piece fraught with sensual tension that offers a sense of dread, while also having a hypnotically calming influence, as if breaking the monotony of the journey with the anticipation of an ominous danger that awaits them, capturing a lingering shot of a boy and girl’s hands in the car coming close together without touching, an homage to the opening of the Bresson film A Man Escaped (Un Condamné à Mort s'est échappé) (1956), and a reflection of a growing sense of longing, setting the tone for the film’s meticulous exploration of the changing dynamic of relationships.  Bush pilot Blake is there waiting for them in his hydroplane, flying them to one of those northern Canadian lakes that would be impossible to reach otherwise, as there are no roads, yet he plays a prank right from the outset, a practical joke with cruel undertones, Exclusive Clip: Who by Fire - Philippe Lesage (2025) YouTube (1:32), a foreshadowing of what’s to come.  As they arrive to this woodland retreat, which is used mostly as a hunting and fishing lodge, what’s immediately apparent is the force of the great outdoors, as they are literally engulfed in nature, where it’s easy to get lost in the woods, yet there’s also a claustrophobic feel of being trapped.  Almost immediately, Jeff’s attention focuses on Aliocha, with Max fading into the background, so much so that he’s almost written out of the story entirely, becoming an invisible presence, yet he’s always there, just no longer noticed by Jeff who is fixated on his sister.  At an opportune moment, he tries to kiss her, but is flatly rejected, running away in shame afterwards, thoroughly humiliated, spending a harrowing night alone in the woods, completely enveloped in the darkness, taking shelter in another abandoned hunting cabin, eventually rescued the next morning by the searching plane of Blake flying overhead, who also picks up two new guests visiting from Paris, Hélène (Irène Jacob) and her partner, Eddy (Laurent Lucas), representing the educated and elitist elements of society, yet beneath the surface lies a profound dysfunction, reflections of the broader malaise within bourgeois society.  Their arrival culminates with another festive dinner, Who by Fire | Clip | Opens March 14 YouTube (1:48), but it takes an ugly turn, with alpha male Blake tormenting the more melodramatic Albert again, this time switching Albert’s prized vintage wine to a cheaper version, which he immediately recognizes, though it’s been poured into the same bottle, leaving him stunned and flabbergasted before sending him into an emotional tailspin, mirroring Jeff’s outburst, building on a similar dynamic that copies the correlation between Jeff and Aliocha with Albert and Blake.  Relationships are viewed with themes of exposed vulnerability and acts of deception, erupting in a feverish after dinner sequence of comical and wildly exaggerated dancing to The B-52's - Rock Lobster (Official Music Video) YouTube (7:06), a joyous, anxiety-relieving counterpart to the cruel embarrassment of the earlier sequence, yet happiness feels more like a mirage than any positive development.

Jeff is in for another radical surprise, as he discovers evidence of Blake and Aliocha’s secret affair in the form of witnessing Blake taking naked photographs of Aliocha as he peers from the outside into the cabin window, which immediately changes his perception of both of them.  No longer envious, they each become the object of his scorn, calling her a slut who will put out for anyone else but him, even revealing to Albert that he watched Blake drink his prized wine afterwards while joking about the incident, having a good laugh at his expense.  It’s a stunning turn of events, as hero-worshipping turns to hatred and scorn, even having thoughts of killing Blake, which plays out like a sick revenge fantasy in his head, evolving into a study of male patriarchy gone wrong.  The coup de grâce, however, is an extended ten-minute dinner scene that grows more uncomfortable by the second, with the table serving as a verbal battleground for voicing grievances, laced with mean-spirited insults and humiliation, as Albert expresses unfiltered venom for his old friend, voicing his displeasure about the wine incident, but taking things much further, as old resentments and petty jealousies erupt.  With an unsettling tone, combustible tensions soon boil over between the two creative male egos, initially reminiscing over their youthful endeavors, but the mood shifts significantly, as playful bickering leads to brazen insults and hurtful comments, going way over the top in terms of drunken outbursts, taking a slide into the wretchedly vile and repugnant, adding an obnoxious stench into the air. The following morning, hoping a little fresh mountain air might ease the pent-up tension from the night before, they set out in canoes down the river, peaceful at first before the scenes of the group canoeing down the rapids in the middle of the deep woods resembles the ominous danger that awaits them in John Boorman’s DELIVERANCE (1972), as it explodes into a catastrophe on multiple fronts, with several boats capsizing, leading to a horrible tragedy, while a hunt into the mountains shows Jeff eyeing Blake through the scoped sights of his rifle, like an internalized death fantasy, where clearly they have crossed a line of no return.  There’s a switch that takes place, as the more the film goes on, the more we’re getting inside Aliocha’s head.  No one comes out unscathed in what is essentially a coming-of-age story where innocence veers into the horror-in-the-woods genre, shot in ‘Scope by Balthazar Lab, growing significantly darker and more disturbing, taking its own sweet time at more than two and a half hours, where a good deal of it is staring at a near completely dark screen, with very little outline of anything visible, a visual tactic that definitely tries one’s patience and can get wearying, while the director also has a tendency to interrupt music scenes abruptly, ultimately feeling underwhelming, with not nearly enough dramatic tension, though it is told in a uniquely distinct style.  Set in a time before anyone had cell phones or social media accounts, the film is essentially a series of extended conversations that steadily build into heated arguments, reflecting the disillusionment of youth, the failure of adult role models, the effects of toxic masculinity, and the longing for artistic/personal intimacy, as Lesage blends a combination of slowly building naturalism and dread in this lengthy exposé of a wilderness retreat that goes off the rails, spiraling into the depths of the unknown, like an existential venture into the heart of darkness. 

While this train wreck of a film has a darker, more psychologically complex edge, featuring really insufferable characters for a prolonged period of time, presenting episodes of aggression and simmering tensions without offering even the slightest satisfaction of closure, it just doesn’t have the character depth or emotional complexity of some of the best movies made about adolescence, like François Truffaut’s The 400 Blows (Les quatre cents coups) (1959), Edward Yang’s A Brighter Summer Day (Gu ling jie shao nian sha ren shi jian) (1991), Olivier Assayas’s  Cold Water (L’eau Froide) (1994), André Téchiné’s Wild Reeds (Les Roseaux Sauvages) (1994), Richard Kelly’s DONNIE DARKO (2001), Terry Zwigoff’s Ghost World (2001), Andrea Arnold’s FISH TANK (2009), Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012), James Ponsoldt’s The Spectacular Now (2013), or Richard Linklater’s 2014 Top Ten List #1 Boyhood, to name a few.