Playground (Un Monde)

 

 

Writer/director Laura Wandel

PLAYGROUND (Un Monde)         B                                                                                           Belgium (72 mi)  2021  d: Laura Wandel

Not your typical film about kids, as this exposes the everyday cruelties that kids inflict on each other in school playgrounds around the world, where the cruel fact is adults are not there coming to the rescue of those being bullied, so the abuse continues.  This is an immersive viewing experience, where the French title of “(Un Monde) The World” more perfectly encapsulates the playground as “the entire world” for these kids, as all the societal behavior patterns develop within that chaotic environment and defines who they will become as adults, as teachers only appear peripherally, often seen cut-off from the edge of the screen, as if they don’t fit, becoming something of a horror story seen through the inquisitive eyes of a young 7-year old.  The director is a graduate of Belgium’s Institut des Arts de Diffusion, where the Dardennes brothers are the cultural model for Belgian filmmakers, using a minimalist style with handheld cameras following the protagonists around wherever they go, expressing a naturalism that is as humanistic as it is devastating, providing a physical reconstruction of a near documentary, cinéma vérité style, though Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce,1080 Bruxelles (1976) also provides the rhythmic template for immersive filmmaking.  In the closing credits, thanks are given to Luc Dardenne, Alain Berliner, and Rebecca Zlotowski, among a host of others, though François Truffaut’s The 400 Blows (Les quatre cents coups) (1959) may be the most influential film about young children ever made.  Perhaps following in the footsteps of Claire Simon’s RÉCRÉATIONS (1998), a documentary exposing the trauma linked with children’s schoolyard games, or Play (2011), Ruben Östlund’s tale of sophisticated psychological bullying among Swedish adolescents, this film is quite unlike any other, working with the kids for three months before shooting began without ever providing them a script, using a gritty neo-realistic style set completely within the confines of a primary school, reminding us of the constant noise, the social hierarchies, and the fear of being different, where the focus of attention is young seven-year-old Nora (Maya Vanderbeque), who arrives at the same school attended by her ten-year old brother Abel (Günter Duret).  Brought to the school gates by her father (Karim Leklou), the overly shy Nora literally clings to him as an unwilling participant, saying tearful goodbyes, not wanting to let go, yet she must learn to navigate her way through unchartered territory, just as anyone does when they start a new school, with the camera seeing only what she sees, providing her unique perspective throughout the entire film.  In something of a strange twist, we quickly learn it’s not Nora who is bullied, but her older brother, who is viciously brutalized by older, more physically imposing students picking on him, finding himself trapped in a spiral of violence that he cannot escape, forced to endure endless humiliation and torment.  Initially Nora runs to a teacher to intervene, but they’re usually distracted by something else at the moment, so by the time they arrive, the damage has already been done, or Abel refuses to incriminate his abusers, thinking it would only escalate and get worse.  

Five years in the making, having visited schools across the country while speaking to parents and teachers, the film premiered in the Un Certain Regard section at the Cannes Film Festival in 2021, winning a FIPRESCI Award, and was selected as the Belgian entry for the Best International Feature at the Academy Awards, but did not make the cut down to the final five, and was released only in arthouse theaters playing to minimal audiences.  Among the more unique features is the sound design, filled with children background noise or classroom quiet, with no use of music anywhere, where according to the director, “The brutality of the playground is conveyed through the noise.”  The graphic depiction of some of these atrocities is horrific, so viewers beware, as this is not for the faint of heart, reminiscent of torture treatment, which is simply heartbreaking, as Abel has no defense except to suffer the consequences.  The film also exposes the effect this has on Nora, who wants to help her brother, even at the risk of receiving blows from his abusers, whose faces are rarely seen, but he wants her to stay away, as it only gets worse when she’s around, so he makes her swear not to say a word to their father.  Slowly she acclimates herself to her own classroom situation, an outsider with no allies or friends, where she’s forced to hear the ridicule her brother is subjected to, stifling her emotions, with students laughing at his expense, and soon enough she’s the one being bullied for being the sister of the kid being bullied.  Shot at a low angle by Frédéric Noirhomme, with the constantly moving camera strapped to his waist, a technique that was similarly used by Céline Sciamma in Petite Maman (2021), it holds tight on Nora’s face with demanding close-ups, allowing her no room to breathe, existing in such constricted space that viewers will feel overwhelmed as well while we follow her in her class, the lunch room, and the playground.  Nora continually has her eyes out for these repeated occurrences, as they happen out in the open with such regularity that it would seem impossible for teachers to miss, where the most disheartening aspect is that her brother never fights back, adding a fatalistic tone of defeatist resignation, as this behavior becomes imprinted into his personality.  It’s also shocking that his parents wouldn’t notice his sullen outlook and total social exclusion, but their home life is never seen or mentioned, where any signs of a mother remains a mystery, as it’s her stay-at-home father who delivers her to school each day, becoming a subject of taunting as well, with suggestions that he must be a lazy “freeloader” because he doesn’t have a job.  Nora has to fend off all these accusations without really understanding the circumstances herself, yet when she asks her father why he doesn’t work like the other dads, he remains utterly clueless about the implications, ignoring the bruises Abel brings home as well, all too easily accepting his fabrication that they resulted from soccer practice.  This pattern continues, as she’s so wrapped up in her own world that adults barely exist, offering little more than standard platitudes, expressing scant interest in her welfare. 

At some point, however, the atrocities are so demeaning that she defies her brother and tells her father, identifying the guilty tormentors, who are hauled into the principal’s office with their parents and forced to apologize, something viewers hear but never see, as it happens off camera.  It’s an interesting way to frame such an impactful moment, where it’s viewed as purely tangential, not the real focus.  There is no reason to believe the bullying stops, as that’s not the nature of forced apologies, as they tend to have little effect unless they are accompanied by more serious consequences.  The film triggers painful childhood memories, as viewers may recall their own painful misadventures, yet the observational tone of the film is exceedingly instructive, providing a window into the lives of young children not often seen, exposing events that can be traumatizing, including Nora’s own trepidation about jumping into a pool or learning to swim, or walking on a balance beam before she’s even learned to tie her shoes, while there are also amusing moments just watching kids being kids, playing silly games, or finding hilarity in biting their sandwiches into animal shapes and then guessing what it is.  Kids also just make up things, but at that age, it’s difficult to counter some of these outrageous statements, where instilling fear may be the real intent.  Navigating her way through this labyrinth of unexpected pitfalls is no easy task, especially when there’s no one along the way to offer help.  Apparently nothing has more importance at this age than being invited to a friend’s birthday party, or the shame of being excluded, where this is a monumental event in Nora’s world, where it’s difficult to handle the pressure of missed opportunities, where her brother is usually to blame, as no one wants to be associated with an object of ridicule.  She even disavows that he’s her brother at one point, hoping to be ingratiated into the social clique, but his scorn is hers to live with as well, as she begins to be rejected by her friends, which puts her at risk of being ostracized, like her brother.  There is an empathetic teacher (Laura Verlinden), but she is inexplicably transferred out mid-term, leaving an exasperated Nora to offer a tearful goodbye, a scene of rare tenderness and genuine emotion.  Abel finally makes an adjustment, but it’s a cruel turn, as he learns the only way to avoid being bullied is to become a bully, so he starts targeting a dark-skinned kid named Ismaël (Naël Ammama), singling him out for abuse, joined by those that used to pick on him, but as Ismaël is one of the few boys that Nora has befriended, this is utterly devastating.  It’s a strange twist of fate, revealing a cruel underside to the playground social dynamic, ending on an ambiguous note that suggests there’s really no beginning and no end to this aberrant behavior, it just is, unless society has the capacity to demand something better for their children.  While it never rises to the childhood poetry of Truffaut or Maurice Pialat’s L’ENFANCE NUE (1968), this first-time feature was one of the discoveries of the year, where the performance by Vanderbeque, who literally carries the film, reveals an astonishing range for any age, and is arguably the film’s biggest takeaway.  Already she’s been enlisted for a Gaumont German television series.            

Close

 

Director Lukas Dhont

Lukas with executive producer brother Michiel

The director on the set with Émilie Dequenne

Dhont directing a scene

CLOSE                       B                                                                                                            Belgium  Netherlands  France  (104 mi)  2022  d: Lukas Dhont

I was looking for a sense of hopefulness, that we can take that armor off and allow people to see the parts that are broken.                                                                                          —⁠Lukas Dhont, Lukas Dhont on making sense of tragedy in Close   

An unqualified tearjerker that lingers long afterwards, this is a coming-of-age story of a child friendship gone wrong, and innocence broken, resulting in a full-blown tragedy.  Premiering at Cannes where it shared the Grand Prix (2nd Place) with the most recent Claire Denis film, Stars at Noon (2022), it is reminiscent of an earlier Icelandic film that played on similar themes, Guðmundur Arnar Guðmundsson’s Heartstone (Hjartasteinn) (2016), a gay love story that also went terribly wrong, though some may be perplexed by a continuing trend that any depiction of a gay character always has to end in tragedy.  Dhont is an openly gay Belgian filmmaker whose previous film Girl (2018) is a provocative piece surrounding the gender dysphoria of a transgender ballerina, while this film explores even younger kids who are best friends, seemingly living carefree lives during the long summer months, idly spending their days playing together, using their imaginations to invent fantasy scenarios, comfortable enough to have regular sleepovers, where each is integrated into the other’s family, without a thought in the world about anyone else.  This is the world of pre-adolescence, as Léo (Eden Dambrine) and Rémi (Gustav De Waele) are two 13-year olds with an unbreakable bond, where there are no limits on their friendship, including an open display of affection, often sleeping next to one another in the same bed, where they are not in the least bit self-conscious, helped along by the performances of two gifted actors who bring their own personalities into the room.  There is nothing to be read into this, with the director offering no indication of any sexual orientation, as neither one views it as anything out of the ordinary, with their respective families feeling the same way.  Dhont apparently met young Eden Dambrine on a train ride, ultimately offering him an audition after watching his facial expressions from a few seats away, where those expressions offer a cinematic window into his soul.  Léo’s family runs a rural flower farm, where his mother, Léa Drucker, from Xavier Legrand’s 2017 Top Ten List #7 Custody (Jusqu'à la garde), father (Marc Weiss), and older brother Charlie (Igor van Dessel) do most of the hard labor, spending their time cultivating the soil and harvesting the flowers, getting their hands dirty, with Léo escaping from that harsh reality, mostly avoiding work altogether as the two kids run wild through an Edenesque rural countryside (Dhont grew up close to a flower farm in the Flemish countryside), while Rémi’s mother Sophie, Émilie Dequenne, best known for her starring role in the Dardenne bother’s ROSETTA (1999), is as affectionate with Léo as her own son Rémi, describing him as “my heart’s son,” treating him like a member of the family.  Interestingly, the mothers of both boys remain their best friends, viewing them simply as they are, not how they want them to be.  Being a Belgian filmmaker, the near flawless execution most closely resembles the stylistic social realism of the Dardennes brothers, notable for having won two prestigious Palme d’Or awards at Cannes for ROSETTA (1999) and L’ENFANT (2005), giving this film a cinéma vérité documentary style where the narrative is advanced by the physical actions of the protagonists, with the camera having a love affair with their faces, following their every move, making them the centerpiece of the film, where visual compositions and wordless moments are accentuated to express underlying emotions that are too difficult to rise to the surface, allowing viewers to assess the meaning.    

As he was writing the film, Dhont found a source of inspiration in NYU developmental psychology professor Niobe Way’s 2011 book Deep Secrets: Boys’ Friendships and the Crisis of Connection, drawn from hundreds of interviews with adolescent boys of various backgrounds (Ask an Academic: The Secrets of Boys), discovering boys are often distraught about losing the closeness of earlier friendships, where the rates of suicide among boys in the hyper-masculine culture of the United States jumps to four times the rate of girls.  Changes in late adolescence occur because cultural pressures to become “a man” are intensified, buying into the notion that they need to suppress their emotional side to avoid being perceived as gay or effeminate, as effeminate traits become a subject of mockery, ultimately led to believe romantic relationships take precedence over friendships.  As with their earlier film, this was written jointly by Dhont and theater director Angelo Tijssens, shot by Frank van den Eeden, beautifully capturing the rhythms, sequencing, and exquisite framing, where tracking shots are particularly effective, with another delicate score by composer Valentin Hadjadj, while the director’s younger brother Michiel is an executive producer.  The film mirrors the darker overtones of Céline Sciamma’s Petite Maman (2021), particularly the duality of the friendship, while also echoing the languid summer moments from Tomboy (2011), a rhythm of motion film where something is lurking just beneath the surface.  Inspired by his own childhood and teenage friendships, where gay kids and teenagers are unsure of their own sexuality, some viewers may be completely unaware of any LGBTQ implications and may simply view this as melancholic territory, yet the film will likely play differently to gay viewers, as they more easily recognize themselves being treated as outsiders, while the film has a way of connecting to desire, to identity, though it is subtle enough that it may not make any difference, as the question of whether there is a romantic context plays only a subordinate role.  Nonetheless, when the kids return to school, they are happily placed in the same class, yet social pressures cause a strange turn, as their closeness is suddenly placed under a microscope, creating something of a stir, where a girl quizzically blurts out, “Could I ask you something?  Are you together?  Are you a couple”  This seemingly innocuous question changes the entire trajectory of the film, as intimacy is immediately sexualized, with Léo quickly growing defensive and dismissing the notion, while Rémi stays quiet.  In another random incident, someone can be heard calling Léo a “faggot,” or asking if he’s on his “period,” homophobic slurs causing alarm signals to go off in his head, suddenly aware of how others perceive him.  Questions of toxic masculinity suddenly flood the screen, creating a fissure in their relationship, with Léo seeking other interests, developing a friendship with Baptiste (Léon Bataille), who encourages him to join the hockey team, something he never shares with Rémi, hanging out with a different group of friends, where all they talk about is football and sports, while eying his friend from afar.  Their routine habits are significantly altered, no longer bicycling home or hanging out so much, and when they do, it quickly grows uncomfortable, getting into shoving matches, though neither can put into words what they’re feeling, so instead they remain edgy and standoffish, where that dreamlike summer idyll becomes a distant memory.  Hockey becomes a symbol for masculinity, which Léo does not take to naturally, as it becomes a struggle, but he persistently keeps working at it.     

Approaching a subject that would have been taboo in previous generations, the filmmaker is interested in exploring the pitfalls of male relationships in early adolescence, where the world around them can help shape who they become, for better or for worse.  Even with loving families around them, the trajectory of each boy is decisively different, as Léo tends to suppress and deny the bonds of friendship, calculating a socially acceptable future that conforms with the conventions of the mainstream, while Rémi takes a different path, finding it more difficult to just pretend that friendship doesn’t exist.  Léo is like a brother to him, welcomed into his family, where spending time together feels natural.  To suddenly be rejected for seemingly no reason really stings, yet the focus of attention remains on Léo, who’s in nearly every frame of this film, so viewers can only imagine what Rémi is going through, as the director chooses not to share it.  Rémi may have a more sensitive side, as he plays the oboe in a local orchestra, allowing Léo to watch him while he practices, while his room is painted red, a striking color tone with suggestions of sensuality, as Dhont accentuates color in this film, where the fields of flowers are especially vibrant, but this is mere symbolism.  His mother seems overly sensitive as well, working as a nurse in a maternity ward, as she is genuinely loving and affectionate, playfully seen joining the kids having fun during the summer, where there are really no discernible differences between them, as there are no built-in walls, instead she expresses a feeling of acceptance, remaining completely in the dark about the changing dynamics between the teenagers.  But the direction of the film centers around the way the socially conditioned aspect of Léo’s life changes, impulsively distancing himself from Rémi, hanging around other boys, spending more time at home, suddenly taking more interest in helping the family harvest the flowers, where no questions are really asked.  In many ways this resembles the same dynamic of the two longtime friends in Martin McDonagh’s The Banshees of Inisherin (2022), where one simply moves in a different direction without telling the other, causing internalized emotional frictions that only lead to tragedy, as the cruelty of the world intervenes.  While the same thing happens here, the violence is substantially different, as these are just kids, yet that aspect makes the ultimate tragedy even that much more impactful, yet what’s most heartbreaking is how it’s become normalized.  Although this film has received universal acclaim, it is not without its own problems, as the outcome feels overly predictable, where the structure is designed to prolong any emotional reaction for as long as possible, so it is delayed, and delayed, feeling overly manipulative, continually tugging at the heartstrings.  That’s not to say there isn’t a sense of restraint, as there is, especially in the developing tenderness between Léo and his older brother Charlie, who serves as a substitute for Rémi, but this is a slow burn into an emotional abyss that we see coming, yet the impact is still devastating.  To the filmmaker’s credit, the streamlined execution of the narrative style sets the stage for the ultimate finale, using a less is more formula to all but guarantee there won’t be a dry eye in the house afterwards, feeling more than a little cathartic.