Film Review
For his latest film, director Cédric Kahn takes one or two
leaves out of Ken Loach's book and delivers a brutal but highly
engaging social drama that could hardly be more pertinent for our
times.
Une vie meilleure
marks a noticeable shift in style and subject from Kahn's previous
films, viscerally intense romantic dramas such as
L'Ennui
(1998) and
Les Regrets (2009), and darkly
introspective thrillers like
Roberto Succo (2001) and
Feux
rouges (2004). Kahn shows signs of being influenced
not only by Ken Loach, but also other masters of social realism,
notably the Dardenne brothers and Maurice Pialat. Whilst
his film is uncompromising in its portrayal of the harsh realities of
life its power is slightly undermined by a plot that is far too
mechanical and a reluctance to embrace some of the
cinéma vérité
techniques favoured by committed social realist filmmakers.
Whilst
Une vie meilleure is
perhaps too slick, too mechanistic to be entirely convincing as a piece
of social realism, it is nonetheless a compelling and, at times, deeply
moving film. Its power comes mainly from the authenticity that
the three principal actors bring to it, particularly Guillaume Canet in
what is almost certainly his best screen performance to date. It
takes a while to warm to Canet's character, Yann. At first, he
comes across as too sure of himself, too wilfully naïve, someone
who is clearly heading for a fall. It is only when Yann's
misfortunes start to snowball and he is sent hurtling towards a financial
black hole that we begin to have some sympathy for him. His
situation may be one of his own making, but it is one that we can
identify with, and who cannot feel for Yann when he finally wakes up
and begins to face up to the reality of the mess he has created?
It is not too difficult to see the wider political-economic allegory
that lurks mischievously behind the film.
Of particular note is Canet's rapport with his child co-star Slimane
Khettabi, which has something of the exquisite poignancy of the
relationship between the out-of-work father and his son in Vittorio De
Sica's
Bicycle Thieves (1948).
The extent of Yann's growing sense of despair and his subsequent inner
transformation are revealed to us not by Yann himself but by the way he
relates to the little boy who is placed in his care, the boy who looks
to him for support and comfort when he himself is dangling by a
thread. Leïla Bekhti is far less well-served by the script
(her character is not much more than a flimsy deus ex machina) but her
performance matches the maturity and depth of Canet's, reinforcing the
popular view that she is one of French cinema's most promising young
actresses.
The film's subject is certainly topical but, to Kahn's credit, it
tacitly avoids playing the blame game. It would have been easy to
use the film as an opportunity to rant on about the failings of the
capitalist system, but Kahn does not do this (except perhaps to comment
on how easy banks make it for individuals to accumulate debts that can
never be repaid). Instead, he focuses on the human consequences
that can result from some very human failings. Yann is the
architect of his own destruction, not the banks or the social workers,
and it is up to him to find a way out. The better life which the
film's title alludes to is one that can only be attained once the main
protagonist has accepted the reality of his situation and has made the
commitment to remedy it. This is essentially what the film is about:
the realisation of the self through the negation of one's childish
illusions. Despite one or two obvious shortcomings,
Une vie meilleure is a wise and
beautifully expressive piece of cinema, one that transcends the
grimness of its subject matter and offers hope to us all.
© James Travers 2012
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Next Cédric Kahn film:
Vie sauvage (2014)