myDylarama

Nomadland take 2: A reconfiguration of a terribly dysfunctional society.

George Crosthwait — 2021-04-03T16:43:43Z

In 2011 the USG mine in Empire Nevada closed, effectively creating a ghost town. Caught in the wake of this collapse, Fern (Frances McDormand) has lost her job, her home and is reeling from her husband's recent passing. Fern becomes part of the disparate and transient “nomad” community. The nomads are usually older, often solitary, Americans living on the road in cars, vans, and mobile homes, following seasonal work and forming short term convoys.

“What the nomads are doing is not that different from what the pioneers did. I think Fern's part of an American tradition.” So says Fern's sister, defending her at a bad-tempered cook out. But what sounds like a justification and possibly an ethos for the film, lands ambivalently. The nomads seek to exist on the periphery rather than strike out to tame and settle the expansive wilds of the new world. Again and again, Nomadland reinforces the precarity of a mode of living that can be shattered by a flat tyre, an unwanted visitor, the law, sickness, or the weather. What the pioneers did was to exact mass genocide on indigenous peoples in order to make claims on the land. Something not lost to a director whose previous two features, Songs My Brothers Taught Me (2015) and The Rider (2017), are both set on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. And whilst the nomad existence evokes a kind of libertarian fantasy, Fern's situation is generated and perpetuated by the destabilising employment practices of companies such as USG and Amazon.

Nomad living is an insular inversion of the pioneer spirit and a rejection of the modern American dream, an attempt at a transparent existence with minimal impact upon the landscape. It may, however, be appropriate to think of Zhao herself as taking part in, or even establishing new pathways within an American cinematic tradition. Whilst Zhao evokes Terrence Malick with stunning, crepuscular photography of (appropriately) Badlands National Park, her focus on marginalised American lives places her more comfortably alongside contemporary filmmakers like Kelly Reichardt, Sean Baker, and Debra Granik. Whilst you can see the same interests in unorthodox modes of living/habitation as Granik's Leave no Trace (2018) and (often temporary) female labour as Reichardt's Certain Women (2016), Zhao's films have less of the textured, tactile, immersive cinematography of her peers. Rather, films like The Rider and Nomadland have a more objective, observational tone. Her Malickean citations hold nature as something phenomenal to behold, rather than to fully sense. Her approach to her subjects is ethnographic, and much attention is paid to verbal testimony. The most initially striking aspect of Zhao's style is her docufiction approach. Beyond recognisable stars (McDormand, David Strathairn) actors in Nomadland play versions of themselves and tell their own stories and histories of life on the road. Although Fern has a loose narrative arc of processing her personal traumas, at times she acts as a wandering witness, or conduit to these very real testimonies. This approach to filmmaking is distilled even further in The Rider, which incorporates an entire cast of non-actors performing both themselves and their community.

It's a device that aligns Zhao with Todd Haynes, who briefly brings in actual victims of DuPont's water poisoning in Dark Waters (2019), and the Ross Brothers, who tear down the boundaries between fiction and documentary in the magnificent Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets (2020). But with her unprecedented awards season success, no current filmmaker is exploring the pervasive sense of loss coursing through vast parts of the USA with such mainstream appeal. Nomadland pulls off the trick of romanticising without sugar coating that the best American art achieves. It is both a eulogy, a coping mechanism, and a reconfiguration of a terribly dysfunctional society.

Eternal Beauty : A Bold Representation of Mental Illness That Goes Beyond Dark Comedy

Benjamin Hollis — 2020-10-09T13:23:42Z

Craig Roberts' « Eternal Beauty » is a bold representation of mental illness that breaks with cinematic tradition, adding a rare level of nuance and compassion to an often misrepresented topic. Sally Hawkins stars as Jane, an isolated woman struggling with depression, schizophrenia and an at times toxic environment - 80s English suburbia. A chance encounter and whirlwind relationship with fellow patient Mike (David Thewlis) appears to grant her a new lifeline but instead serves only to reignite her underlying trauma of previously being jilted at the altar. Those expecting a dark comedy will be surprised to find that « Eternal Beauty » delivers more weight than expected, making it a tough watch at times, but a rewarding one in the end.

A striking feature of the film is its division into different phases, each drawing the picture towards another genre, while adding depth to Jane's character. It starts as a slightly unhinged comedy with Jane butting against a bizarre, drab mental health clinic and buying herself her own Christmas presents that she wants her cold, disconnected relatives to pay for. Billie Piper shines as the reliably comic but callous younger sister and a rather stuck up Penelope Wilton is convincing as the cruel, selfish mother.

But when Jane loses her medication, she spirals out of control. The voices grow louder and as her behaviour veers into psychotic paranoia, the film's atmosphere darkens to produce some chilling, almost horror-worthy scenes. Only then does her romance with Mike begin, brightening the film and eventually leading to a final, more enlightened sequence of self-discovery.

This unusual, alternating structure succeeds as an insight into Jane's complex state of mind as she wrestles with her traumas. But it inevitably makes for difficult viewing, particularly in the first half of the story. Here the cast, striking visuals and a surprisingly dramatic soundtrack play their part, holding our attention throughout. Comedy also provides a common thread, with some unexpectedly funny lines interrupting sombre stretches and injecting some much-needed comic relief. For instance there's an almost laugh-out-loud moment when Jane prematurely pronounces her mother dead, only for her to clarify that she's « just resting her eyes ».

To conclude, a heavy-going first half eventually gives way to a fulfilling story. Although Jane's romance with Mike is billed as the narrative focus, it ends up feeling more like a bump in the road on her journey towards healing and empowerment. This, along with some other clever narrative flourishes, builds a far more sophisticated, authentic and memorable picture than you'd expect from a mere indie dark comedy.

Craig Roberts' ETERNAL BEAUTY starring Sally Hawkins, David Thewlis, Billie Piper, Morfydd Clark, Penelope Wilton and Alice Lowe will be released in cinemas in Scotland at the DCA Dundee from 2 Oct & the GFT from 9 Oct, as well as on demand from 2 Oct.

Q&A with Lars Vega, co-dir. Väntan På Döden / Awaiting Death - Canal+ AwardClermont 2020

Elise Loiseau — 2020-02-07T17:42:36Z

A son arrives at the hospital to watch over his father's death bed. When the son wants one last nice moment, his father would rather find out what to do with the two opened cans of mustard.

Awaiting Death is a deceptively simple and sombre short. Through minor exchanges and limited dialogue, the directors manage to convey a nuanced and very human relationship with characteristic deadpan humour, getting a delicate balance in tone just right.

More on the film...

How did you come up with the story of this relationship?

I was told a story from my friend Annica Zion that her grandparents were talking about Swedish meatballs when the grandmother was in hospital. I thought there was something funny about talking about something so unimportant in a place which is associated with so much drama in films.

Is any part of it biographical or autobiographical? Are the characters based on people you know?

No, but maybe it will happen when Isabelle's (co- director Isabelle Björklund) father is waiting to die.

How was it working together on the film?

It's complicated. It went well. It's good when there's two of you, because one can pick “kaffe och kakor” (coffee and biscuits) while the other talks nonsense with the actors.

A number of Swedish films display that same deadpan, dark humour. Would you say it's a national comedic trait?

Not really. I wish it were, more like Roy Andersson. But right now there are very stupid comedies in Swedish cinema. But our way, being Swedish, especially in Northern Sweden, is very much deadpan. Fear of conflict is common in us Swedes.

What are your projects for the near future?

Going the Danish National Film School and working on a new film, Mattanter. Isabelle Björklund is unemployed.

Would you say that the short film format has given you any particular freedom?

The best thing with short film is that you do not have to go to the toilet during the screening. And that you can tell stories about everyday things without putting in a big drama act.

Love Is The Devil - Blu-Ray release

Alice Nicolov — 2015-12-02T14:19:03Z

The BFI has just re-released ‘Love is the Devil' on Blu-Ray. First released in 1998, this is a film portraying the destructive relationship between Francis Bacon and his muse and lover, George Dyer. The film culminates in Dyer's suicide on the eve of one of Bacon's triumphs, an exhibition at the Grand Palais in Paris in 1971.

Just as Dyer drops seemingly from nowhere into Francis Bacon's chaotic London studio, so the audience of ‘Love Is The Devil' is flung head-first into Bacon's tumultuous life. Set in late 60's and early 70's Soho, the film is visually stunning. The placement of every prop is perfect. The colours are rich - bottle greens, crimson reds, oak browns. The constant switching between different lenses as we see elements of Bacon's life through his own eyes – blurred vision, mirror images, magnifying lenses - helps the audience to understand how Bacon saw the world in a way quite unlike ‘normal' people. He saw it through colour and movement, placement and reflections.

Furthermore, the performances of both Derek Jacobi and Daniel Craig as Francis Bacon and George Dyer respectively are compelling. Jacobi, from the outset, gives us the lascivious, cruel, selfish artist, while Craig as Dyer, the rough diamond so beloved of the wealthy classes of the period, plays the drowning man to perfection. Bacon as the protagonist destroying the very thing he loves and admires and the authenticity of Dyer, whom he uses as a muse, is tainted by Bacon himself. Dyer's authenticity is lost, the life sucked out of him to feed the maw of Bacon's own art. The audience is also given a startling insight into Bacon's Soho with its codes, jokes, secret language and private clubs.

If we take the ‘Love Is The Devil' on a basic level of a story of two lovers, one destroyed by the other then it is a powerful and moving film, thanks to the performances of Jacobi and Craig. Unfortunately, the simple story of a man being being taken out of his natural surroundings, used and eventually destroyed does not work in this instance.

The film attempts to focus on Bacon's private life and his relationship with Dyer whilst trying, somehow, to weave Bacon's art into his personal life as a separate entity, something apart or additional to him and to his relationship with Dyer. In fact, Dyer was an essential part of an important development in Bacon's oeuvre and this fact is somehow lost on the audience.

The film presupposes a prior knowledge of Bacon's art and personal background and without this, it ends up as merely a love story gone wrong. Bacon's work is referenced throughout the film – the distorted images, his revelries at the Colony Room, his studio and the presence of other artists such as David Hockney. Indeed, it is only near the end that George is referred to as Francis' muse. Bacon's art embodied him and so to have his personal life and his work running parallel rather than to see all of his actions stemming from his art short-changes Bacon. In order to understand the destruction wreaked by Bacon, you must understand his work.

It leaves anyone who is not familiar with Bacon's life and work wondering who the film was actually for – a wider audience with no understanding of Bacon's art or the art world only? While the audience can guess at this, it then has to tolerate Jacobi delivering to camera Bacon's own complex musings on his inner torment in order to explain this. There is too much telling and not enough showing of Bacon's need to consume the life and energy of others to feed his own genius.

‘Love Is The Devil' is a film that isn't sure what it is or who it is for. Jacobi and Craig provide mesmerising performances as Bacon the monster with a brilliant line in camp banter and his beautiful, simple lover. The awful nature of their relationship is difficult to watch as Bacon gradually robs George of his identity. On the other hand, Bacon was assuredly a genius and this attempt to explore its darker side misses the full horror, except perhaps in the last images recalling Bacon's painting of George, in his final tragic moments set in a blood-red frame. As for Bacon, however sordid his private life was, however much inner torment he suffered, his genius has always shone through all that, and the film somehow just manages to miss this fact. If however you are looking for ninety minutes of sheer visual beauty and a powerful screenplay, it is not to be missed.

Dir. John Maybury, 1998

Selma

Coco Green — 2015-01-20T19:03:33Z

MLK was vilified during his life, martyred after his death and has proved more valuable dead than alive. Now his words are hijacked to support everything from conservative 'individual responsibility' initiatives to sales during his birthday celebration weekend. Making a film which captured the violence and resilience of the moment without resorting to clichés was almost as impossible as it was for a Negro to vote in 1964 Selma.

Everyone's a critic, but what's right about Selma (2014) is very right. Rather than a sell-out tale about faith or the American Dream, the film conveys the spirit of uncertainty and the electric charge of an inspirational sermon. After violent scenes the viewer has to see beyond the obvious brutality and almost saintly hope of the movement to understand the personal sacrifices and ambitions of marchers, politicians and religious leaders. Of course the women, particularly Diane Nash (Tessa Thompson), Amelia Boynton Robinson (Lorraine Toussaint), Mahalia Jackson (Ledisi Young) and Coretta Scott King (Carmen Ejogo) should've featured more prominently. However, given writer Paul Webb's affecting depiction of the synergy between people power, charismatic leadership and political opportunity he's forgiven. This time.

Chris Rock once joked that if white people like a film about civil rights it can't be that good. So Selma should wear its Oscar snub as a badge of honour. Honest films about black oppression shouldn't please the establishment, let alone be rewarded. If a film dares to take MLK off his pedestal and away from hero worship, framing him as an activist-preacher, with his own demons and failures, then what chance did Selma really have for 'Best Director'?

Selma is timely because the movement fighting state violence against black people builds momentum, the factions between young and old-guard activists battle it out, and the dialogue around expectations of artists and the rich and famous in social movements heats up (FYI, Harry Belafonte was the model then and now); it's truly back to the future. So go see Selma, ask critical questions and think about the role of black militancy in the long quest for justice.

Dir: Ava DuVernay, 2014

Papa was not a Rolling Stone

Clotilde Couturier — 2014-10-05T18:59:45Z

« Papa was not a Rolling Stone » est un film autobiographique réalisé par Sylvie Ohayon avec Doria Achour, Soumaye Bocoum, Aure Atika, Sylvie Testud et Marc Lavoine. Chorégraphies par Kamel Ouali. Bande son par Nousdeux the band. Interprétation inédite de "Envole-moi" par Jean-Jacques Goldman. Sortie en salles le 8 octobre 2014.

–

« Papa was not a Rolling Stone », le premier film de Sylvie Ohayon, m'a au premier abord surprise, car le film porte en lui une image années 80 – 90 très marquée !
« Papa… » pourrait tout à fait être un film de la fin des années 80 dont la sortie serait repoussée depuis 30 ans. Le cadrage, le rythme, les tenues et le langage sont ceux d'une autre époque. Cela peut gêner dans le début du film, mais peut aussi embarquer les nostalgiques sur une voie de navigation cinématographique qui n'a plus été empruntée depuis. Conseillé donc fortement à tous les bébés des seventies ! Mais pas seulement…

Rapidement, on est emporté par l'élan de vie qu'incarnent la comédienne principale - la superbe Doria Achour - et l'interprète de sa meilleure amie - Soumaye Bocoum - toutes deux très talentueuses. Mention spéciale à Soumaye Bocoum qui porte la spontanéité et l'émotivité à l'écran dans une sincérité extraordinaire.

Abordant parallèlement l'envol professionnel et la sortie de l'adolescence d'une jeune fille issue de la Courneuve, « Papa… » est un film qui me semble fait avec beaucoup d'amour. Dans le traitement des personnages autant que dans la composition du scénario avec ses scénettes du quotidien, le film transpire d'une tendresse profonde envers le « village » de la Courneuve, ses protagonistes et ses traditions, sans pour autant négliger de nous donner à voir ses travers et abus.
« Papa… » veut valoriser le sourire et la persévérance des banlieues afin d'en donner une image bienveillante bien que réaliste. En cela, c'est un peu tout l'opposé de « La haine » qui en présentait le pan révolté. « Papa… » aurait très bien pu s'appeler « La tendresse ».

Mais cette tendresse n'est pas douceur et le film est très dur dans les mots échangés entre adolescents et dans les épreuves rencontrées. A l'image de la réalité de chacun d'entre nous, quelle que soit notre origine ethnique, religieuse ou sociale. Au passage, l'écriture, dans les dialogues comme dans les réactions des personnages, est particulièrement remarquable. Nous trouvons tous à nous identifier dans ces rapports humains qui positionnent « Papa… » à la limite du film documentaire.

Ce film est aussi une autobiographie et le grand absent s'y fait bien sentir : la figure paternelle. Celui qui , dès le titre, « n'est PAS ». Terriblement absents, les hommes montrés comme personnages principaux sont très décevants, bien que physiquement attrayants. Au milieu d'eux, le personnage du (très) beau Rabah (tout à fait à droite sur cette photo du film) brille auréolé de cette lumière aveuglante qu'est le Premier Amour. Au passage, prestation tout aussi réussie pour ce jeune comédien (Rabah Naït Oufella) ! Si le personnage de Rabah est sublimé un instant, seules les femmes se montrent intelligentes et audacieuses dans « Papa was not a Rolling Stone » : l'amie, l'enseignante-artiste, la grand-mère et même la mère qui n'arrive pas à grandir... Alors que tous les personnages masculins ayant une image positive sont mis au second plan, que ce soit l'idole inaccessible, les amis de notre héroïne ou son partenaire de Danse, magnifique athlète dont nous n'apprendrons absolument rien et auquel est pourtant réservé un très beau clin d'œil à la fin du film. Ce procédé donne à « Papa… » un ton hyper féministe, mais il permet surtout de coller à la sensibilité de Stéphanie, qui n'a plus aucune confiance envers les hommes et évolue dans un univers qu'elle ne voit plus qu'au féminin, ce qui lui confère l'incroyable assurance dont elle fait preuve.

Si ce choix a son intérêt, il m'a laissé sur mon envie d'entendre davantage la voix de l'enfant seul, sans rePère, qui demande « Papa où t'es »... Cela ne semble pas être la question de Sylvie Ohayon, qui a préféré creuser sa trame dans la traversée d'une rupture libératrice, une histoire d'adultes au milieu de l'enfance. Pour ce choix, j'ose dire que « Papa was not a Rolling Stone » est le pendant swagg de « La boum », offrant la vision d'une autre jeunesse avec tous ses possibles. Une vision qui manquait cruellement au cinéma des années 80-90... Justice lui est désormais rendue.

Bien que livré à notre regard sous la forme d'une touchante comédie, « Papa… » met en avant l'obstination acharnée du triple combat de Stéphanie : une carrière professionnelle fondée sur le mérite, la revendication de son droit à la sexualité et l'émancipation de son origine.
« Papa was not a Rolling Stone » attaque ainsi sur tous les fronts de l'égalité.
Continuons le combat.

Dir : Sylvie Ohayon, 2014

Life Is Slight: Boyhood by Richard Linklater

Jack Wormell — 2014-08-02T10:49:04Z

Although I was planning to see Double Play, a potentially interesting documentary about the friendship between film directors Richard Linklater and James Benning, the former a long-standing darling of American semi-indie who flirts with Hollywood (The School of Rock), the other a firm outsider of the mainstream who makes feature length, non-narrative landscape films, it was cancelled.

So instead I went to watch Linklater's latest film Boyhood, and with the spectre of Double Play looming over that it's interesting to look at Linklater's intentions and techniques and how he attempts to forgo conventional narrative but remain within a certain American mainstream.

With this film Linklater has attempted to make the ‘anti-coming of age tale' if you will. It's Stand By Me without a narrative shaped by a teenager's growing awareness of death. It's The Tree of Life without the cosmic approach. It's a film of moments, most of them inconsequential. Filmed over twelve years using the same actors, it shows in ellipses the life of Mason (Ellar Coltrane) from the age of five to eighteen, growing up in Texas. He fights with his sister (Lorilei Linklater), they visit their flaky dad (Ethan Hawke) and they begrudgingly accept their mum's (Patricia Arquette) various husbands, one of whom is downright nasty (frighteningly played by Marco Perella.)

On the whole Linklater excludes what a more conventional approach would include – a divorce scene, a graduation scene, cathartic arguments etc – and by using straight cuts to link scenes rather than dissolves, or any other device, Linklater maintains his central thesis – that life is a fluid ongoing strip, rather than a series of ‘key defining moments'. This means that a cut may take us to a few hours later, but it could just as likely be a few years. We'll only be alerted to the fact that there has been a temporal shift perhaps a minute into the scene.

Mason's mum mentioning in passing that she's now two husbands down, in a broader conversation with her son about selling the house, tells us that the previous scene in which her husband Jim (Brad Hawkins) argues with Mason was not the night before as we had assumed, but is actually a year or two down the line. This allows the film a fluid feel while also creating a subtle sense of the jarring which we only realise after the fact, creating an active guessing game between film and spectator that keeps us awake to the miniscule threads of narrative that weave the film together.

For sure Linklater relies on more standard techniques to ease the film along, music being the obvious tool which at times becomes grating, but generally he admirably restrains from scenes reaching definitive conclusions, characters being defined by their actions and creating windows into character's psychology. Even though Mason and his sister Samantha bear witness to a fairly discordant relationship between their father and mother, endure living with an abusive step-dad and see Mum in various states of distress (one particular scene with the aforementioned step-dad screams out at us when we least expect it, and with an economy of style that doesn't feel gratuitous in its handling of domestic violence) they seem to be fairly well-rounded teenagers.
Linklater does not crowbar in any obvious signs of stress or dysfunction – Mason and Samantha just kind of get on with it. Equally interesting is his treatment of their relationship as siblings; throughout the film they are fairly antagonistic to one another and as they grow older their childish squabbling becomes a cool acceptance of one another that we are never fully given privy to – are they close? It doesn't seem so. Will they mature and become more affectionate towards one another as adults? Who knows? It doesn't look like it.

As an audience we are never given the usual scene of redemption and ‘oh it's fine, they love each other really' moment. The film has a melancholy flatness throughout, underpinned by Mason's expressionless, at times confused-looking face, staring up at the sky at the beginning, peering from under his teenage rock star hair as a fourteen year old. I found a wafer thin melancholy hanging over the film because of this slightness – I felt it captured the small indifference that we feel in moments of strange clarity, a remoteness of the moment that doesn't really gel with the next stage. In fact there aren't really any stages. Mason's mum tragi-comically expresses this when as he packs for college – she tearfully yells that the next watershed moment in her life will be her ‘fucking funeral!' It's funny but also tells of how we expect our lives to be defined by ‘key moments' that offer us epiphanic understandings of ourselves, of what has come before in our lives and where to go next. Linklater humorously reverses the roles of child and parent – an unsure parent, confused and uneasy about her future whereas her child going off to college is disarmingly calm. Annoyingly the film overemphasizes the themes in the final scene, spelling it out a bit too plainly for my liking.

Boyhood does suffer slightly from lacklustre performances – I think a film with this approach would have benefited from a more naturalist turn in the acting. At times, particularly in the first half, the dialogue is somewhat stilted and lacks the vitality and documentary energy that you would expect from a film concerned with the everyday. The performances are rooted too much in a more mainstream style of Hollywood acting that I personally didn't think suited. This was especially frustrating because Linklater has so pointedly set the film so that it ends pretty much around now (or the last few years); therefore the characters live through cornerstones of our recent history (Harry Potter, the war in Iraq, the election of Obama), but the style of acting tears the film away from this reality.

So to with the overuse of music – Linklater has always used indie rock music to imbue his films with the hazy feel of teenage years, but at times it becomes a shortcut to emotional underpinning, veering dangerously close to a tweeness that recalls Shane Meadows at his worst. Still, a strangely affecting film that evokes something of the indifference of teenage years when most other films on this subject are showcasing rites-of-passage and the supposed euphoric rushes and drama of school life; in fact very little of Boyhood takes place in school, which again is refreshing. Perhaps not a righteous attack on mainstream narrative tropes, but a refreshing look at a much covered topic.

Dir: Richard Linklater, 2014

CAMCLASH

Clotilde Couturier — 2014-06-17T12:33:32Z

Eh, oui, Mydylarama s'intéresse aux émissions de télé… On vous arrête tout de suite : une fois n'est pas coutume ! Mais le petit écran nous a réservé une surprise que nous ne pouvions pas ignorer… « CamClash ». Cette émission novatrice et surprenante « rentre dans le vif ».

CamClash, l'émission qui veut dénoncer les incivilités, est saisissante. Les réactions face à ce concept sont enflammées ! Souhaitons qu'un embrasement semblable puisse se faire autour des sujets que l'émission joue dans l'espace public et met à l'écran.

Cam Clash : http://www.france4.fr/emissions/cam-clash

Véritable questionnement des comportements sociaux, CamClash propose d'observer les réactions des « passants » face à des situations choquantes : discriminations, agressions ou comportements exclusifs sont ainsi « imposés » en pleine rue.

Comment réagiront-ils ?

Il s'agit de disséquer notre société et l'attitude civile, ou incivile, de nos concitoyens et par extension, de nous-mêmes !

Au premier visionnage, CamClash vous scotche à votre fauteuil. L'émission, osée, originale, animée, vibrante, répond à toutes les attentes en matière de captation du spectateur, que ce soit intellectuellement, avec les enjeux sociaux et du vivre-ensemble que l'émission touche, ou émotionnellement avec la trame sensible qu'elle met en avant parmi les réactions des quidams. Cela fait longtemps que la télévision n'avait pas produit d'émission aussi stimulante.

La réussite de CamClash tient beaucoup à son montage particulièrement rythmé et accrocheur.

La structure de l'émission, avec ses trois sujets par session, revient sans cesse sur les teasers des prochains sujets à voir – restez assis s'il vous plaît – et sur les répliques « choc » des citoyens, remontées comme une action à revoir, à l'image du bon coup de pied propulsant le ballon dans le but…

On peut reprocher à l'émission cet aspect « spot publicitaire » mais il faut tenir compte du créneau (lundi soir 20h50) choisi pour la programmation de l'émission, et de l'offre actuelle en matière de divertissements télévisés. CamClash répond aux exigences des audiences, dont on sait qu'elles nécessitent une accroche forte du public, lequel aurait besoin d'être sans cesse sollicité pour ne pas zapper. Et ces techniques font déjà partie de notre environnement audiovisuel, que ce soit dans les séries américaines avec effets de tension toutes les 3 minutes ou dans la télé réalité avec ses moments d'action, ses instants « vérité » et ses effets… de teasing !

CamClash s'inscrit donc dans son époque et correspond tout simplement aux recettes qui font les émissions d'aujourd'hui.

— Caméras Cachées et Débordements

L'aspect Caméra Cachée pour tester les réactions des passants à des situations inacceptables est l'aspect le plus accrocheur de l'émission, l'angle d'approche qui plaît immédiatement. Car il existe en chacun de nous un justicier sûr de son bon droit et prêt à juger « l'autre », celui qui est à l'image.
De plus, les séquences choisies sont souvent fortes en émotions et ne peuvent pas nous laisser insensibles.
Cette qualité poignante est en même temps le plus grand danger pour CamClash. Dans les médias sociaux, on peut déjà, après seulement trois semaines d'existence de l'émission, être confrontés à des détournements des vidéos CamClash. Elles sont rediffusées sur Internet et partagées sans information quant à leur aspect fictif. Le procédé narratif qui à la base doit amener les citoyens à s'investir dans une solidarité citoyenne, les pousse sur les réseaux à se faire juge et bourreau, envisageant la justice sans procès comme une possibilité et appelant à la violence contre tel ou tel comportement.

Pour une émission souhaitant promouvoir le vivre-ensemble, le paradoxe est de taille. En même temps, l'ambition de sensibiliser le public est atteinte. Atteint aussi l'objectif de créer un débat et une considération citoyenne.

Mais le manque de responsabilité est tout de même à dénoncer, surtout quand l'application sur l'image d'une simple mention du style « La victime et son agresseur sont interprétés par des comédiens. » permettrait d'empêcher certains débordements. En particulier pour toutes les vidéos disponibles sur Internet.

Du fait de la même négligence, les groupuscules extrémistes n'hésitent pas à utiliser les images dénonçant des agressions pour les relier à des figures ethniques, religieuses ou vestimentaires et ainsi promouvoir la culpabilité de quelques-uns pour exhorter à la peur de tout le groupe. Ces dérives sont des conséquences immédiates de la conception et de la diffusion de CamClash. Il est surprenant que la chaîne laisse faire et qu'aucun suivi n'ait été mis en place. Ce choix de laisser faire permet de penser qu'il y a une plus importante volonté de faire sensation que de construire une société ayant des réactions solidaires.

La télévision reste une course à l'audimat, à la manipulation du spectateur avant tout, et c'est toujours à nous de faire le tri et de nous approprier les outils qui sont à notre portée pour aller vers le « mieux ».

Au moins, CamClash ouvre des pistes d'amélioration de soi et offre un réel questionnement de notre environnement social plutôt que de prôner la superficialité et l'exhibitionnisme.

— Localités et Nuances

Par contre, certaines évidences s'imposent : on aimerait voir les sujets traités dans différents endroits de France. Paris contre Marseille, Lyon contre Bordeaux… Quelles différences morales ? Quelles qualités de vie ?

En continuant à creuser les reproches à faire à « CamClash », on est en droit de se demander si tous les témoins ayant perçu une part incomplète de la mise en scène ont su quel en était le départ, car certaines séquences peuvent apparaître très différentes aux yeux de qui n'en voit qu'un fragment. Et les invectives de « départ » qui sont filmées pourraient ne pas être entendues par les témoins. Mais les « agresseurs » sont volontairement surjoués par rapport à la réalité, avec des paroles dites haut et fort, et répétées, ce qui permet d'éviter toute équivoque.

Cependant, au quotidien, c'est un discret « négro » qui va sortir l'air de rien de la bouche d'un quidam, et non pas une dithyrambe de quinze minutes qui permet à toute une rame de métro d'identifier l'agresseur(e) et l'agressé(e).
C'est une attitude plus taquine ou plus flatteuse, en tout cas plus douce, bien que toute aussi insistante et perverse, qui fait le harcèlement de rue.
C'est enfin un comportement mondain généreux et souriant qui cache la violence domestique.
Nous pourrions apprendre à déceler ces situations. CamClash ne permet pas cette approche, car elle veut à tout prix montrer au spectateur une situation évidente.
Sur cet aspect, CamClash a des améliorations à faire. Il faut laisser à l'émission le temps de s'installer, d'être adoptée par ses spectateurs. C'est une fois apprivoisés que nous serons à même d'apprécier des nuances et on peut admettre que pour ses premières diffusions, CamClash ait opté pour l'efficacité au détriment du réalisme. J'espère bien voir les prochaines émissions aller davantage vers le « vrai » plutôt que vers cette exagération qui « explique bien ce qui se passe ».

Aussi, la conséquence des tournages peut aller à l'inverse du but recherché (ce but étant de favoriser l'entraide) car pour qui voit la caméra alors qu'il ou elle s'apprête à réagir, le doute et l'inhibition s'installent et le jeu ressemble alors à une moquerie du réel, à une tentative de créer « de mauvaises émotions », comme la colère ou la tristesse. Mais cela ne doit pas concerner grand monde…

Au passage, de sincères félicitations sont à présenter aux comédiens qui prennent part aux tournages, car ils sont incroyablement criants de vérité. Quel talent !

— Electrique ou Eclairant

Un profond regret par contre, est que les interventions s'arrêtent là où commence la véritable solidarité. En effet, les quelques fois où les témoins des agressions choisissent de faire appel à la justice, en se rendant disponible auprès des services de police pour livrer un témoignage ou accompagner une victime à faire un dépôt de plainte, la caméra s'éteint automatiquement. Or, c'est cette seule démarche qui permet d'aider réellement notre société et la victime.

Tant que nous laisserons notre colère et notre soif d'héroïsme dominer des situations qui pourraient être maîtrisées par de véritables actes citoyens, nous ne ferons que repousser les problèmes trois rues plus loin et dix minutes plus tard. L'émission semble en avoir pris conscience parfois, par exemple dans le sujet sur les femmes battues en diffusant le numéro d'écoute anonyme 3919. Il semble aussi y avoir une amélioration sur cette question avec l'apparition dans certains épisodes de témoins qui mettent les mots justes sur les situations qu'ils sont en train de vivre comme « Ceci est du harcèlement » (« This is harassment » dans la version originale).

Malheureusement, cela ne semble pas encore systématique dans CamClash et là-dessus il y a vraiment un risque de plonger vers la surenchère et de générer des incivilités sous la forme d'un duel entre « l'attitude CamClash » et « l'attitude à exterminer », au lieu de permettre l'acte citoyen : la mise à disposition de soi-même au côté de la victime et la mise en relation avec les services de secours (le 112 ou le 17).

Mais une grande joie est que CamClash ne s'arrête pas au Clash et propose un vrai questionnement : c'est l'intervention post-caméra cachée, où les anonymes pris au piège de la Caméra Cachée partagent leur ressenti, leurs réalités, leurs opinions. Et surtout, de réelles victimes des discriminations sont à l'origine des mises en scène et vont décortiquer les images et pousser au-delà le débat. Là, on touche enfin à l'essentiel. Dans cet acte à la fois témoignage du vécu et réflexion partagée, CamClash permet enfin d'appeler à la vigilance chacun d'entre nous.

Finalement si tout le reste n'est qu'une mise en scène pour pouvoir ouvrir le débat et libérer la parole, ça vaut le coup de prendre tous ces risques, car les sujets abordés sont primordiaux. C'est une belle avancée qu'on parle de ces différentes questions, que chacun(e) s'interroge sur ces réalités et prenne position.

La longueur de cet article est une preuve que CamClash nous donne vraiment matière à débattre !!!

Et prouve aussi l'existence d'une niche à explorer, d'échanges à créer et à stimuler… mais aussi à encadrer. Espérons que l'émission saura éviter l'écueil du sensationnalisme, s'affermir vers une ambition solidaire et s'inscrire dans la durée.

Souhaitons longue vie à CamClash !

Starred Up

Viewing Pleasure — 2014-05-16T11:37:32Z

David Mackenzie's new film is a much-welcome addition to the British prison drama genre, that weaves sophisticated narrative into a bold critique of the penal system and a mockery of rehabilitation inside.

Set in the microcosm of an English prison, Starred Up is the story of serial offender, 19-year-old Eric Love (Jack O'Connell), who has left the relative comfort of foster homes and juvie, to join inmates, including his estranged father Neville, (Ben Mendelson), in an adult prison. The film opens with prison staff processing and strip-searching an unwavering (even bordering on indifferent) Eric, who is escorted to his new cell in a maximum-security unit. When the cell doors first slam behind him, Eric proceeds to settle in, fashioning a weapon by welding a razor blade into a toothbrush and neatly placing bottles of baby oil on his cell shelves, which he will later douse himself in for protection against riot police. Within the first 24 hours, he will have beaten up another inmate over a lighter, fought with prison guards and had his cell blitzed by riot police who struggle to restrain him. As the prison governor, Hayes (Sam Spruell), prepares to send him into solitary confinement or do much worse, the prison psychotherapist, Oliver, (Rupert Friend) convinces him to let Eric join his anger management group therapy, held with 3 other inmates.

Whilst O'Connell's character certainly knows how to assert himself with inmates and prison guards, the meeting with his estranged father, placed in his same wing, constitutes lesser known territory. It is here that we must thank MacKenzie for refusing to give us a drama about a young man with 'daddy issues'. Steering well clear of sappy romanticism, Starred Up presents a skillfully constructed relationship between an absent father and desperate son who, ironically, are locked up in the same place. For Eric, interactions with his father bring out a vulnerability that quietly compliments his deep-seated anger. Early on, it is clear that both sentiments stem from his profound insights into life's shortcomings. Eric's attempts at communication are met by a desperate Neville, who uses his clout in the prison pecking order to express an uncomfortable paternal instinct. More often than not, their relationship spirals into jealousy, anger and embarrassment, all of which are dramatically interrupted when Neville physically rescues Eric from a murder attempt planned by the prison's administrators in the film's final moments. As Neville is finally transferred to another prison, his very last words to his son are a darkly humorous 'I'm proud of you'.

MacKenzie's achievements, however, go far beyond his remarkable portrayal of this dramatic relationship. Although some may be left feeling - in the words of a Daily Mail reviewer - 'thankful that people like Eric are inside', others will be forced to question what the hell prison is for, or rather, what on earth prison is. But Starred Up does not invite viewers to embark on a formulaic search for answers. Corruption is far too endemic in this nick and rehabilitation a little too farcical. Individual actions emerge as mundane reproductions of a system that can survive, although not always thrive, regardless of the agents who exercise power within it. The treatment received by Eric and other inmates is not down to the moral defects of individual police officers. Punishment is not merely directed by the prison governor in power, nor is it simply administered by certain inmates to whom prison authorities have devolved a degree of control. In this context, the narrative of prison 'as progress' towards anything at all becomes too surreal for viewers to pursue. We soon have little choice but to assume that prison's greatest power emanates from the threat of incarceration it produces.

Starred Up's powerful reflections are only marginally disturbed by certain fractures that appear within the film's narrative and character development. Alongside the lack of sophistication with which less dominant themes are presented, such as inmate homosexuality and the pushing of contraband inside, Mackenzie's development of the role of Eric's therapist falls short of brilliance. Oliver's personal ambitions, abandonment issues and his feelings towards the prison establishment are clumsily elaborated. Although his ultimately ineffectual work as a rehabilitator is key to the film's central premise, the parallels we are encouraged to draw between him and Eric and his violent resignation in the film's later stages, are lacking in dramatic quality.

Perhaps much to the dismay of some, Starred Up affords little space to imagine the development of a solidal relationship between inmates, as every pursuit of meaningful connections is violently interrupted by outbursts of rage and acts of resistance, in which individual inmates remain protagonists. However, Mackenzie has made it difficult for viewers to separate Starred Up's distinct aesthetic mode from what feels like its mechanical reproduction of reality. Some would argue that this makes it a work of true realism. Deciphering the role of cinematic production is a complex and arguably circular task, but there is little doubt that this film revives our sense of the brutally surreal workings of incarceration, rehabilitation and social control, beyond political agendas and theoretical prescriptions. As for the places those reflections may lead us, well, that is most certainly down to the subsequent interventions of viewers.

Dir: David Mackenzie, 2013

Stranger by the Lake (L'inconnu du Lac)

Matt Bray — 2014-04-17T09:23:41Z

Alain Guiraudie's erotic gay thriller is located in rural France and takes place over ten summer days. Set on the shores of a vast inviting lake, a small group of men spend the day building up all-over tans in between swimming and cruising around the adjoining forest. We quickly fall into the world of the film and Guiraudie presents with ease the rituals that these gay men enjoy as they escape the confines of heterosexual society. However, we quickly feel that all is not well in ‘Gay Utopia'. Warnings of over-sized lake amphibians, the silent loneliness of dusk falling and the perceived dangers of anonymous outdoor sex, combine to give the lakeside location a palpable eeriness. That Guiraudie's camera never leaves this setting only intensifies our sense of dread.

So to the characters – Franck, (Pierre Deladonchamps) a chiseled beauty with mournful eyes, befriends out of shape loner Henri, (Patrick d'Assumçao) and develops a gentle, non-sexual relationship with him. Whilst chatting on the lakeside with his newly acquired friend, Franck eyes the object of his desire over on the beach - Michel, (Christophe Paou) who is swarthy, sporty and moustached; an archetypal grade-A hyper-masculine male. However, the course of true sex does not run smoothly. In the afternoon, Franck follows Michel into the forest only to find him with another man. In the evening, a greater obstacle to his emotions occurs when he thinks he witnesses Michel committing a crime.

As voyeurs we share Franck's shock – what in fact did we see occurring ? Dusk is falling – was there a crime or have our eyes tricked us? For Franck, there is a forceful sexual intrigue to what Michel may have done and soon the two embark on a highly sexed affair. Whether a crime was really committed will later become apparent.
Beautifully composed, clever, sexy and suspense-laden, Stranger by the Lake is a gem in the gay canon. The film's much talked about ending is lingering and perverse. In a world dulled by rational behaviour, Stranger by the Lake applauds a man who loses himself to passion and champions the liberation found in animalistic sex and wild emotion.

Dir: Alain Guiraudie, 2013