July 11, 2010
Amidst the dusty roads and rusty machinery, Maria Vial (Isabelle Huppert) tries to run a coffee plantation. Her workers are leaving, her son is reclusive, and her (ex-) husband wants to sell up. But this is Maria’s home, and whether stoic or stubborn, her aim is to harvest coffee despite the impending disaster.
History tells us that the end of colonial rule usually brings chaos and tragedy. Like a dam finally swamped by the current, there are wider forces at work that overpower individual will. Claire Denis’s impressive new film takes this unerring sense of foreboding, underscored by a wonderful soundtrack by Tindersticks, to create an almost tangible air of oppression. Set in an unnamed African country on the brink of violent political unrest, it’s the story of how one white French family finally succumb to the breaking of the dam.
What makes Huppert’s performance so good is that it lacks any notes of hysteria. Maria is a practical woman without colonial superiority. In fact, it’s her humanity and unwillingness to take sides which brings the wider unrest closer. Her concerns are the everyday: hiring workers, buying fuel, getting her son out of bed. She is unable, or unwilling, to see the local people literally hiding in the bushes waiting to pounce. She can’t hear the inflammatory radio broadcasts which punctuate the film, and make her such a focus for hatred and violence.
The increasing tension is managed expertly by Denis, and the film never gets ahead of itself. Although we all know how the story will end, the final scenes still defy expectation. The violence underpinning the film throughout is ultimately expressed in horrifying silence. There is an other-worldly feel that takes the film from drama to spectacle, and elevates it to something really worth watching.
History tells us that the end of colonial rule usually brings chaos and tragedy. Like a dam finally swamped by the current, there are wider forces at work that overpower individual will. Claire Denis’s impressive new film takes this unerring sense of foreboding, underscored by a wonderful soundtrack by Tindersticks, to create an almost tangible air of oppression. Set in an unnamed African country on the brink of violent political unrest, it’s the story of how one white French family finally succumb to the breaking of the dam.
What makes Huppert’s performance so good is that it lacks any notes of hysteria. Maria is a practical woman without colonial superiority. In fact, it’s her humanity and unwillingness to take sides which brings the wider unrest closer. Her concerns are the everyday: hiring workers, buying fuel, getting her son out of bed. She is unable, or unwilling, to see the local people literally hiding in the bushes waiting to pounce. She can’t hear the inflammatory radio broadcasts which punctuate the film, and make her such a focus for hatred and violence.
The increasing tension is managed expertly by Denis, and the film never gets ahead of itself. Although we all know how the story will end, the final scenes still defy expectation. The violence underpinning the film throughout is ultimately expressed in horrifying silence. There is an other-worldly feel that takes the film from drama to spectacle, and elevates it to something really worth watching.