Polisse

Maiwenn's excellent police drama Polisse follows the Parisian Child Protection Unit, expertly weaving officers' personal and work lives. Maiwenn plays Melissa, a quiet photographer who is more of a cipher than a fully drawn character, but she serves as the audience's eyes. The force is filled with more dynamic characters, including Joey Starr's passionate Fred, Karin Viard's insecure Nadine, and Marina Fois's bitter Iris.

The workers are dedicated professionals, but that isn't to say they are patient or polite. Often more intimate with their peers than their lovers, they are more reliable parents than spouses. Plagued with alcoholism, depression, and neuroses, there is a sense that our heroes could explode at any time. In fact, many of them do, and their rants about the trials of their job are repetitive but believable. In spite of the numerous storylines, careful editing and naturalistic, sometimes unbearably raw, acting distinguishes the various characters.

This work is neither easy nor cut-and-dried. Suspects range from tearful to unrepentant, and the young victims sometimes don't want to be torn away from their abusers. Relationships between the officers are also intense and complicated, whether they are platonic friendships or romances, repressed or consummated. In spite of the harrowing subject matter, characters often mask their pain as humor, and there are rare moments of relief and pure jubilation.

While some plots are underdeveloped (this would have been a fascinating miniseries), the film manages to follow quite a few stories as well as touch on broader issues such as bureaucracy and cultural clashes. The conclusion is simultaneously inconclusive, heavy-handed, and effective, suggesting that these prickly workers struggle through life and sacrifice themselves for the children. Aided by hand-held camera work, the gripping Polisse feels real.

French with English subtitles.

Metropolitan follows the self-absorbed and well-intended

Allison Parisi as Jane and Edward Clements as Tom

Whit Stillman’s singular wit is on fine display in Metropolitan, his first and perhaps most famous film. Some viewers might not want to follow upper crust (or “UC,” as one character says) New Yorkers who dine, dance, and complain about their privilege. Others will delight in their alternately ridiculous and thought-provoking dialogue.

One Christmas vacation, Tom Townsend (Edward Clements) stumbles into a crowd of socialites. He knows several of them, but his situation is decidedly middle class. Tom claims he doesn’t approve of their decadent balls, yet night after night he partakes in their soirees and late night discussions

These youths are prone to hyperbole and contradiction. One calls Tom “the phony of the decade,” while another calls a peer “one of the worst guys of modern times.” They don’t think twice about dismissing Charles Fourier’s utopian socialism. Initially obnoxious, their pretension becomes increasingly amusing and even poignant as they try to justify their existence. The awkward Charlie Black (Taylor Nichols) breathlessly goes on about how their class is doomed. They have nowhere to go but down. What else are they to do but enjoy themselves and philosophize?

Along with the conflicted Tom and confusing Charlie, this group includes Cynthia McLean (Isabel Gillies), the “slut,” Audrey Rouget (Carolyn Farina), the book lover, and the often passed-out Fred Nuff (Bryan Leder. They usually gather at homes of the sophisticated Sally Fowler (Dylan Hundley) or imperious Jane Clark (Allison Parisi).

The most memorable individual is Nick Smith, played by Christopher Eigeman. Like an Oscar Wilde character but with more conviction, Nick revels in defending the status quo and has an opinion on everything. Hypocritical, wise, passionate, dishonest—Tom says, “he’s basically a nice guy, I think.” Others believe Nick “could be really crazy.” He vilifies the titled Rick Von Sloneker (Will Kempe), his apparent nemesis. Is this slander, or is Nick just more observant than the others? Nick might drive his friends crazy, but in a moment of crisis (real or imagined), they note that Nick “would know what to do.”

There are moments of pathos. Several characters harbor painful crushes, and both Nick and Tom come from “broken homes.” Nick uses humor to describe his step-mother’s malice, while Tom is in denial of his father’s indifference.

Christopher Eigeman as Nick

The cinematography is simple, and the music is appropriately whimsical. Because there is no plot, Stillman’s films can feel interminable. Eigeman is always spot on, but some of the young actors, most of them appearing in film for the first time, are rather wooden and awkward.

Still, this window into the lives of the self-absorbed and youthful rich contains great humor. While their manner of speaking may be unrecognizable to most audiences, these people are surprising in a way fictional characters rarely are. Only comparable to other Stillman personalities, Nick is a unique figure in cinema, as is Whit Stillman himself. 

Beasts of the Southern Wild

"Beasts of the Southern Wild" tries not to romanticize the heroine’s wild world of poverty and primal freedom. The six year old Hushpuppy lives in the Bathtub, a bayou community that lives off the grid. Trained by her father Wink to be self-sufficient, they live separately, surviving off of fish and a livestock, including chickens, goats, and pigs. The alcoholic, occasionally abusive Wink sometimes disappears for days on end, and Hushpuppy misses her long absent mother.

Still, like many children, Hushpuppy loves her father and revels in the Bathtub’s independence. She is told they are better off than those in the “civilized” world. The jubilant opening scenes feature unconstrained revelry. These citizens would rather live and die on their own terms than submit to the regulations of modern life. The plot itself involves melting icecaps, ancient creatures, and a tremendous storm.

Quvenzhané Wallis plays the adorable, strong, and sympathetic Hushpuppy. Her performance is perhaps the film’s greatest asset.  The rest of the actors are also excellent, including Dwight Henry as her father. Few films examine a messy father-daughter relationship, in which anger and love go side by side. Very few focus on characters who aren’t white and upper-middle class.

There are several very funny moments and imaginative scenes of whimsy. Hushuppy’s quiet yearning for a mother figure and the sense of community spirit powerfully pervade the film. Though sometimes distracting, the soundtrack conveys a sense of wonder. The beautiful environment is shot mostly with a shaky camera. (Why does destitution often call for a shaky camera?)

However, the film’s loyalties ultimately lie too obviously with the poor and rough heroes. The difference between their world and that of most American moviegoers is demonstrated in a scene in which they gleefully escape from a sterile, prison-like hospital to the bright colors of the Delta. In one troubling sequence, the Bathtub dwellers blow up a levy to reset nature’s equilibrium. How many people did this act kill? The film never addresses this.

The characters express a typical New Orleanian desire to expel sadness with celebration. But, as tough as their lives are, is repression really the best way to live? The idea of dying before being beholden to others is a very American ideal. But "Beasts" doesn’t address the more dangerous, long-term aspects of isolating children from the rest of society, teaching them to fear and loathe the outside world. Hushpuppy’s father has flashes of violence, but this plays into another stereotype about poverty: disadvantaged people tend to be violent.

Many viewers will either ignore or admire these undertones. This is understandable, as the movie is a coming of age tale rather than a political statement. As such, the movie is an original fantasy. But some will find the movie’s messages uncomfortable and ultimately unfulfilling.