Matthew Lee ranks Jacques Audiard’s films from worst to best…
To coincide with the release of Jacques Audiard’s Dheepan [read our review here], the winner of last year’s Palme d’Or at Cannes Film Festival, we’re looking through this auteur’s back catalogue. With consistent critical acclaim, we’re here to see if such receptions still hold up, and to see if certain films still warrant such appraisal. We may also be able to detect recurring themes, motifs, and visual traits, and to see if they’ve matured in later projects, or have diminished in time. In short, we’re ranking the man’s films from worst to best.
6 – The Beat That My Heart Skipped
Jacques Audiard firmly roots himself in the crime underworld of Paris with his follow-up to Read My Lips. Thuggish broker Thomas Seyr (Romain Duris) involves himself in unscrupulous activity to assist in his real estate enterprise. This aggressive path is influenced by his small-time crook father Robert (Niels Arestrup) who also makes a living in real estate through his own violent ways. Thomas, in a chance meeting with his late mother’s manager, decides to audition for the role as a concert pianist. However, given his wayward years he isn’t as great he once was, and so under the guidance of Chinese émigré Miao Lin (Linh Dan Pham), he practices daily for the role. Alongside this, one of Thomas’ colleagues Fabrice (Jonathan Zaccaï) spends his evenings cheating on his girlfriend Aline (Aure Atika). And to further complicate matters Thomas is in love with Aline. Phew – that is a lot to take in, and we’ve only just started.
As one can see Audiard stretches the scope far in this picture and this is not to be taken as a compliment. Considering the above paragraph is only the film’s primary setup, with each factor of Thomas’s life providing its own obstacles, and minimal crossover, there isn’t any space for nuanced moments of self-reflection as seen his Audiard’s other films. Certain plot threads are either skimmed over – his interactions with Aline – or are not fully developed – his tumultuous relationship with his father – which marks this as a unrewarding experience.
The narrative issue is a shame, for the performances in this film are brilliant. Romain Duris conveys the various facets of this man’s life, seamlessly portraying the different mannerisms that such conflicting parts of his life undoubtedly bring; notably when he tries to remain composed around his father who views his pianist passion with derision. In short, Duris’ realist performance provides snippets of this man’s life to make his own transformation natural. It’s a pity then that the film feels like a densely overcrowded mess. Too much of Thomas’ life is crammed into one film, one begins to wonder: surely less is more?
5 – See How They Fall
Jacques Audiard’s debut has his distinctive visual motifs, as well as some early mistakes he (thankfully) never repeated. There are two stories running parallel here; the first concerns with middle-caged salesman Simon (Jean Yanne) who is investigating the shooting of his friend and police officer Mickey (Yvon Back). The other is of an aging petty criminal named Marx (Jean-Louis Trintignant) who begrudgingly mentors the naive and enthusiastic Johnny (Mathieu Kassovitz).
Prior to this film, Audiard had an illustrious career as a screenwriter, and the film’s first ten minutes proves this. There is a nondescript voice-over narrating Simon’s repetitive sales pitch, and providing some basic setup. While Audiard’s later films will not shy away from motif, it is used here simply as exposition. Additional proof is found in the abundant, and arbitrary, deployment of title-cards. They’re each highly descriptive of the scene following it; one notable example is detailing the locale of Mickey’s hospital quarters. With three title cards used in the first eight minutes, one can indicate that this filmmaker is more comfortable writing a scene, than shooting one.
Other early issues arise when one can predict the films outcome; or, more precisely, how these two stories will intertwine. While Marx and Johnny’s narrative has subversive humour to engage its audience, the conventional mystery of Simon only has snippets of levity, thus making his trajectory a chore. With only moments of subversion, and one abrupt dream sequence exploring Simon’s troubled marriage, his detective narrative is a dull affair; the audience pre-empts the eventual outcome, which makes the red herrings distracting for all the wrong reasons. Conversely, Marx and Johnny’s relationship evolves from a homoerotic one to a father-son-like dynamic in a most joyous manner. Marx’s mood swings from genuine care of this puppy-like moron, to utter frustration of Johnny’s neediness has its moments of wit.
What one can garner from Audiard’s debut is his preference for crime-based stories and an ability to write an ensemble of unique, quirky characters. See How They Fall is a flawed film, and is really one for the most devoted of Audiard fans.
4 – Read My Lips
Partially deaf secretary Carla (Emmanuelle Devos) has a lonely lifestyle, only shares minor conversations with her singular friend Annie (Olivia Bonamy), and she must burden with the lack of respect from her colleagues. In need of an assistant, the company drafts ex-convict Paul (Vincent Cassel), and despite being unqualified for the position Carla hires him. Paul must also juggle his new role with an evening bar job to pay off his extortionate debt to local crime-boss and nightclub owner Marchand (Oliver Gourmet).
Carla’s ordinary appearance doesn’t sit right with the patriarchal office space, and the overt misogyny permeating its milieu. But through her desperation for validation she sees potential in Paul’s ‘bad-boy’ background. This contrast – a thematic set up that is pertinent in Audiard’s later work – is distinct in their circumstances, and conveyed so in their form and in their personalities. They both wear muted colours to blend in, they attempt to hide their physical attributes that they deem embarrassing (Paul with his tattoos and Carla with her hearing aid), and they both behave uncomfortably around the more ‘accepted’ members of society. Therefore, their commonalities are brought to the foreground before they begin to bond.
Emmanuelle Devos won the 2002 Cesar Award for Best Actress and rightly so. Her transformative performance from a meek, closed-up posture in the opening sequence, to her confident exuberance is organically portrayed on-screen. Her character Carla is not wholly a victim (she ignores and repels other deaf people), and is one that hasn’t accepted herself. Her inability to accept herself manifests itself in a manner that (essentially) allows other characters to disrespect her. Such insecurities are portrayed in such a manner as to elicit sympathy from the audience.
The climactic battle, which will be rehashed in Dheepan, successfully balances the chaos and the visceral experience, without a detriment to narrative clarity. Read My Lips is a noteworthy crime caper that follows its title through to the end.
3 – Rust & Bone
A travelling homeless man named Ali (Matthias Schoenaerts) arrives in Antibes, the south of France, to look for work to support himself and his son Sam (Armand Verdure). Crashing at his sister Anna’s (Corrine Masiero) place he secures temporary work as a bouncer at a local nightclub, where he rescues Stephanie (Marion Cotillard), an orca trainer, from a drunken fight. At the local tourist marine park, Stephanie is involved in an accident, resulting in the loss of her legs. With nowhere else to turn, she calls Ali, and the two forge an unconventional relationship.
The film’s trajectory has markedly distinct parallels to Read My Lips; the female finds it difficult to accept her disability, but through the primary male in her life she learns to do so. This newfound male in the female’s life is selfish, is ill-equipped to deal with a conventional job and instead seeks financial and personal reward through high-risk criminal ventures. As the two leads bond, it is her disability that gives his criminal endeavours a new scope. And in the film’s epilogue their relationship is strong, yet ambiguous.
This film proves rehashing isn’t always a bad idea; those above mentioned points are delivered with a greater sense of nuance here, and are experimented with a greater pay-off. For example, as Ali sinks deeper into the lure of high-risk and high-reward bare-knuckle boxing, Stephanie adopts the role as his manager, despite being told by Ali’s former manager ‘No women allowed.’ This is because her prosthetic legs and walking cane gives her a seemingly menacing aura that other fighters daren’t mess with. Whereas Carla’s lip-reading service was utilised literally for Paul’s gain, Stephanie’s is indirect but pronounced.
Rust & Bone is more than a rehashing. The bond between its two unlikely protagonists, for there is nothing on the film’s surface to explain this connection. It is nonetheless conveyed brilliantly, and naturally, through the performances of its two leads. Matthias Schoenaerts and Marion Cotillard capture the sexual tension between the two, as well as a genuine tenderness. In the first post-op scene between Stephanie and Ali, when Stephanie calls Ali over to her makeshift apartment, they move around the space awkwardly, yet remain physically close to each other’s proximity. In short, through restrained performance and particular staging, the two can convey everything about their character with very little explicitly said.
This is indeed a unique and unconventional love story of two unlikely people, with seemingly nothing in common, forming an intangible bond. Audiard’s succinct approach to dramatic changes in the plot, and the performers’ equally complex display –Cotillard expresses shock, confusion, and pain during Stephanie’s awakening scene in the hospital, and discovering her lower legs have been surgically removed – makes this a mature, and engaging romantic drama.
2 – A Self-Made Hero
To summarise this film, think Catch Me If You Can with a dim-witted conman. Albert Dehousse (Mathieu Kassovitz) leads a mundane, bourgeoisie lifestyle during the interwar years of France. Grown up hearing mythic stories of his late father’s time in the Great War from his mother (Daniele Lebrun), Albert wishes to become a hero himself. However, once WWII gets underway, and France is under the German Occupation, he is not drafted. Undeterred, he leaves his wife Yvette (Sandrine Kiberlain), the daughter of a resistance fighter, to head for Paris to carve out his own heroic tales.
This film is Audiard’s most playful to date, both tonally and formally. In blurring the lines between legend and reality, Audiard splices Albert’s pursuit for glory with scenes of retrospective talking-head faux-documentary, as certain characters recall their encounters and escapades with Albert. By portraying this subject in a playful manner, the traumatic experience of French civilians under Nazi German Occupation, and the horrors of the Resistance embattling against spies on either side of war, audiences can enjoy Albert’s escapades. Moreover, his inquisitive nature is akin to a child-like naiveté, and marks him out as an innocent dreamer in this hostile milieu. The film doesn’t shy away from the war, mind you. In fact, there are moments where Albert’s deception places him in a position of authority and he has to make some very hard decisions. These fleeting moments reminds the audience that the terrors of war are still lurking in the background, and they sometimes come to the fore.
Formally, in addition to the aforementioned faux-documentary scenes, Audiard deploys light-humorist moments, and jarring expressive moments. In a sped-up sequence, the young Albert is in a nondescript darkened room, looking to the audience, and is performing a sports montage in his underwear. The voice over narrator, later to be revealed the off-screen interviewee, describes Albert’s early fascination with exploration, and its misguided appreciation: “He learned new exotic names; like Hitler and Mussolini.”
This film marks a greater discipline in Audiard’s filmmaking; it’s a more focused narrative, the title cards deployed only to introduce names (something he’d repeat in A Prophet, and markedly more restrained than See How They Fall), and he’s formally and tonally experimenting without being at the detriment of the narrative. It is also his lightest and most accessible film to date with subversive humour abound, this is an odd, joyous moment in Audiard’s filmmaking career.
1 – A Prophet
This was the film that brought Jacques Audiard to a wider and more mainstream audience, and it’s easy to see why. 19-year-old Malik El Djebena (Tahar Rahim) is being transferred from a youth detention centre to a prison, where he will serve six years for assaulting an officer. This illiterate delinquent attracts much attention from Corsican mobsters and their leader Cesar Luciani (Niels Arestrup), who use his Algerian heritage to their advantage; notably, in taking out certain Muslim inmates. Through Malik’s time, he will rise to earn respect, fear, and financial profit from his time in incarceration, as well as attract a few enemies.
Unlike the overly dense narrative of his prior outing The Beat That My Heart Skipped, this film shows great discipline in keeping the story focused on Malik. In focusing the narratives trajectory onto a singular character, the audience can see an organic evolution of this character, and the difference in interactions with the different characters. In other words, how Cesar and the Corsican’s treated him when he first arrived is vastly different to the treatment felt by new(er) inmates towards the end of his incarceration. Further, as Malik’s wealth increases, so do the perks; his cell is soon fitted with its own TV/DVD-combo, and the guards allow him personal visitations from prostitutes.
Inexperienced actor Tahar Rahim brings an improvised aura to his character; one that focuses on survival and defence in the short-term. This lack of foresight in his character gives the aforementioned trajectory much uncertainty – where will Malik take himself? Or where will be allowed to be taken? Along his unpredictable journey he encounters many other pushers and aggressors that populate this malevolent underworld. It becomes readily apparent that allegiances are seldom secure, and one’s role is always influx.
The use of on-screen text brings a literary quality to the film’s form. Names are projected onto the screen to allow the film, and by proxy its audience, to bypass clunky exposition for character introduction, as well as to highlight the particular character that will be of the main focus in the ensuing chapter (a motif not used since A Self-Made Hero). This also ensures its audience won’t be loss given the abundance of characters populating this world.
Throw in some slow-motion poetic violence for good measure, and you’ve got Jacques Audiard’s best film to date. This is the film that was used to market the auteur’s later films, as well as re-releases of prior ones, and understandably so. It has the hallmarks of the auteur, a soundtrack that blends popular music with a classical underscore, and a lead that evolves on-screen.
