The girl is very good, extraordinary really. The breath and depth of the part she plays would challenge the greatest actresses. She is also very beautiful. She has beautiful eyes and thick, luxurious hair.
But this is also a tour de force for Director Jacques Doillon who, one can see, taught the children to act, while they in turn taught him about their world. The magic on the screen is the magic in the world of the children and what they feel. We see them cope with the world they have been thrust into. We watch as they struggle to make sense of it through experience, fantasy and play. We see how they learn to distinguish between what adults think is real and what they themselves discover is real.
Her father is a rationalist and is concerned that his daughter's prolonged sadness about her mother's accidental death is "crazy." He tells her he will not yell at her if she stops acting crazy. She wisely tells him she will. Already she is learning to placate the world and its madness; already we see that she is working out what is "crazy" and what is not, and right now she is not sure which is which. Her father does not believe in a personal god, but the women taking care of her do, and so do the other children. She does not know what to believe but she wants to believe in anything that will bring her mother back or allow her to talk to her mother.
One may wonder how Doillon was able to get the children to be so good. It's clear he had to immerse himself in their world and win their respect. He had to listen to them and remember what it was like to be a child. These children are creating their world, as all children are, right before our eyes, and usually we do not see because we are so filled with our own lives and with our preconceptions. The children must learn the world and experience it all for themselves, regardless of what we think. Doillon shows us that process through the eyes of the children and especially through the extraordinary eyes of four-year-old Victoire Thivisol, who will steal your heart and soul, I promise.
There is something of the spirit of the lives of the saints in this film of and about a child. We see this in Ponette's struggle to believe in a God would take her mother and not answer her. She is a saint as a little girl, and she is her very own doubting Thomas. But she does not give in to despair. She talks to God and when God does not answer, her rationalist streak takes hold and she demands to know why he doesn't answer her. When she is blamed by a mean little boy for causing her mother's death, she doubts herself and wants to die. Pretending is not enough for her.
Unlike some others I thought the ending was good. I think the problem was the way the latter part of the scene in the graveyard was filmed with the false color, too hurriedly, and (especially) the unconvincing performance of the woman who played her mother.
The final words of the film, "She told me to learn to be happy" are at once great words of wisdom that we all might heed; but at the same time these words are her first compromise with a profane world, in a sense her first lie, her first "sin." It is fitting that they were spoken to her father with the underlying understanding that men will want you to be happy and will be dissatisfied with you if you are not. Her little pleasing half smile from the car seat for him shows us that she has learned she will have to put on a face for the world, and she will. Nonetheless one feels there will be a part of her that will remain hers alone.
This is a beautiful, touching, and spiritually moving film, an original work of art.
(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon!)
But this is also a tour de force for Director Jacques Doillon who, one can see, taught the children to act, while they in turn taught him about their world. The magic on the screen is the magic in the world of the children and what they feel. We see them cope with the world they have been thrust into. We watch as they struggle to make sense of it through experience, fantasy and play. We see how they learn to distinguish between what adults think is real and what they themselves discover is real.
Her father is a rationalist and is concerned that his daughter's prolonged sadness about her mother's accidental death is "crazy." He tells her he will not yell at her if she stops acting crazy. She wisely tells him she will. Already she is learning to placate the world and its madness; already we see that she is working out what is "crazy" and what is not, and right now she is not sure which is which. Her father does not believe in a personal god, but the women taking care of her do, and so do the other children. She does not know what to believe but she wants to believe in anything that will bring her mother back or allow her to talk to her mother.
One may wonder how Doillon was able to get the children to be so good. It's clear he had to immerse himself in their world and win their respect. He had to listen to them and remember what it was like to be a child. These children are creating their world, as all children are, right before our eyes, and usually we do not see because we are so filled with our own lives and with our preconceptions. The children must learn the world and experience it all for themselves, regardless of what we think. Doillon shows us that process through the eyes of the children and especially through the extraordinary eyes of four-year-old Victoire Thivisol, who will steal your heart and soul, I promise.
There is something of the spirit of the lives of the saints in this film of and about a child. We see this in Ponette's struggle to believe in a God would take her mother and not answer her. She is a saint as a little girl, and she is her very own doubting Thomas. But she does not give in to despair. She talks to God and when God does not answer, her rationalist streak takes hold and she demands to know why he doesn't answer her. When she is blamed by a mean little boy for causing her mother's death, she doubts herself and wants to die. Pretending is not enough for her.
Unlike some others I thought the ending was good. I think the problem was the way the latter part of the scene in the graveyard was filmed with the false color, too hurriedly, and (especially) the unconvincing performance of the woman who played her mother.
The final words of the film, "She told me to learn to be happy" are at once great words of wisdom that we all might heed; but at the same time these words are her first compromise with a profane world, in a sense her first lie, her first "sin." It is fitting that they were spoken to her father with the underlying understanding that men will want you to be happy and will be dissatisfied with you if you are not. Her little pleasing half smile from the car seat for him shows us that she has learned she will have to put on a face for the world, and she will. Nonetheless one feels there will be a part of her that will remain hers alone.
This is a beautiful, touching, and spiritually moving film, an original work of art.
(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon!)