Erick Zonca's first feature film, The Dreamlife of Angels, is the most impressive French film to play here in the States in a long time. On paper, it may not sound terribly inviting: the story is a simple one about two strangers who become fast friends and then struggle to maintain that friendship the more they learn about each other. But on the screen, two unforgettable characters are revealed, and the truth resonates so powerfully through their stories that, in comparison, almost all other recent dramas seem artificial, dishonest, sentimental, and manipulative. In other words, while viewers must be warned that the film contains some shocking and difficult content (Mature audiences only please: there is some ugly material here), The Dreamlife of Angels is probably the best film so far this year.
Isa, a young, spontaneous, wandering spirit, comes looking for a friend, only to find he has gone off to Bulgaria, leaving her a stranger in a strange corner of France seeking some reason to remain. She takes a job at a sewing factory--a tiresome job that will, nevertheless, put some change in her pockets--and settles in to see what life will bring her. She soon meets Marie, a quiet, uncommunicative woman who, to Isa's discerning eye, needs a friend that will soften her hardened spirit. Their frustrations with work, with men, and with poverty strengthen their friendship, so that when temptation and trouble arrive they are able to support and encourage each other. Isa's persistent generosity, interest, and openness to the jaded Marie breaks through the layers of Marie's mysterious history and forges a bond that makes them a fascinating pair.
To make matters more interesting, Isa learns that their flat does not belong to Marie, but to a comatose car-accident victim, a girl named Sandrine, who will probably never return to the place. Isa's boundless curiosity and her quickness to care about others leads her into another unexpected friendship as she develops a deep concern for Sandrine and takes up a regular vigil at the unconscious in-patient's bedside. In Sandrine's life, Isa is the angel who stays by her, even though Sandrine is oblivious to her presence. In Marie's life, Isa is the guardian angel who whispers wisdom and comfort in her ear, who lures the feeble light in Marie's heart back into her voice and her face.
But the differences that make this friendship slow-starting also threaten its fragile balance.
Marie's layers come from wounds, undoubtedly. But she seems compelled to return to damaging situations, which both maim and humiliate her further. The embarrassment and shame that result begin building a wall between her and Isa; and when fear grows as well, they both feel the bond between them cracking. While Isa's other significant friend is a comatose victim who needs love, Marie's other friend is self-absorbed, abusive, and arrogant. (Be warned: There are scenes of graphic, deeply disturbing, violent sexual interaction between Marie and her lover. But these scenes are not gratuitous. They are crucial and revelatory, giving the audience a wordless unveiling of the dark secrets that have wounded Marie and draw her again into damaging and devastating relationships.)
Natacha Regnier, as Marie, delivers a bold, multi-layered performance as a woman who can be tough and explosively angry, and a moment later beguiling, vulnerable, and tragically broken.
But the performance of Elodie Bouchez, in the less-demanding role of Isa, somehow haunts me many days after seeing the film. Her generosity, spontaneity, and contagious joy are virtues that may sound like those of a simpleton, but she's no female Forrest Gump. She is wise, experienced, and yet exudes an almost supernatural lightness, so that she can turn a job as a roller-skating sandwich-board advertiser into a ballet of childlike joy; and yet we also believe that she fully understands what is happening and that her heart is deeply burdened.
Much of the power of Zonca's film comes from its resolute refusal to evoke feelings from the audience with any tools extraneous to the story. There is very little music in the movie; you anticipate its arrival in emotional moments, but it does not come, leaving you alone with the characters in the privacy and specificity of their joy or despair. Zonca's camera lingers on the faces of the characters. Sometimes the close-ups draw us so near to them that the actions around them become unclear and bewildering; yet their effect on the characters remains unquestioned.
It's a simple story, but Regnier and Bouchez reveal far more complicated personalities in the middle of it than we are trained to expect by the oversimplifications of most modern movies. In this world, no choice is without consequences, for good or ill. And one's desires and feelings are not the answer to all problems, as Hollywood likes to proclaim. Contrary to the gospel of Titanic and Pleasantville, following one's passion can lead to terrible damage. But passion governed by compassion and responsibility--that is a power to be reckoned with. This is a story about how love reaps more fulfilling rewards than indulgence.
In the end, for both Isa and Marie, their dreams will turn on their willingness to be compassionate and act selflessly. The lasting masterpieces of storytelling, whether in literature or on the silver screen, are made of such stuff. And, as the last shot of the film so clearly suggests, such tragedies and triumphs can be found in the stories of everyone, even the total stranger sitting next to you.
Jeffrey Overstreet
Jeffrey Overstreet writes
regular reviews, news, and essays on the arts and Christian perspectives
at the Green Lake Reflections
web page and in The
Crossing, a magazine for Christian artists. He hasbeen published
in Christianity and the Arts Magazine, The New Christian Herald, and AngliCan
Arts Magazine, and he is a founding member of Promontory Artists Association.
You can contact Jeffrey at Promontory@aol.com.
