No Ordinary Fool

Kristin Scott Thomas is incredible in this fine French psychological drama as Juliette Fontaine, a woman just released from prison, having served a 15-year sentence. Her baggy eyes, remote stare, and apathetic outlook brillantly bring out the despondancy that she needs to portray as this character. Her gradual acclimitisation back into society is as convincing, as the inevitable torrent of her emotional release at the end is overwhelming.

Scott Thomas is ably supported by Elsa Zylberstein as her much younger sister Lea. The latter has to balance the demands of raising a young family with suddenly being reunified with a sister who she had been relentlessly “brainwashed” by her parents over years to forget. Her inner conflict at being almost girlishly delighted to have Juliette back in her life with the unresolved issues that her reappearance raises is equally well depicted.

The story takes place in the eastern French city of Nancy. Lea is married, with two adopted Vietnamese children, and a father-in-law who has been rendered mute following a stroke. The arrival of Juliette is both a cause for concern for Lea’s husband (Serge Hazanavicius) and a cause for interest for others like the amiable but melancholic police captain (Frédéric Pierrot) and Michel, a lonely literature lecturer (Laurent Grévill). On the whole, the casting has been excellently done, especially with the precocious Lise Ségur continuously providing much needed light relief as Lea’s irrepressible 8-year old daughter.

One key idea in the film is the nature of imprisonment. Juliette may be physically back on the outside, but there is a sadness and sense of isolation that still holds her captive. Lea’s father-in-law’s thoughts are trapped behind a soundless voice. The police captain has not moved on mentally from his divorce. Michel has gone into self-imposed exile in Nancy for reasons that only gradually become obvious. Juliette’s mother (Claire Johnston) has lost her mind and lives in a perpetual present of “interfering” nurses.

The other major theme, as suggested by the film’s title, is the nature of love and loss. Lea’s daughters are clearly adored by their parents and wider family and flourish as a result. Equally, both Juliette and Lea remain damaged as adults by their parents’ decision to ruthlessly disown Juliette. This culminates in one astounding confrontation near the end. Equally, both sisters must now rediscover the love that had clearly existed between them as children. Finally, many of the adult characters are searching for some form of stable and meaningful relationship in middle-age, having seen an earlier one fail. The message is a simple one really – no prison can hold you in if love is there to break down its walls.

The instrumental portion of the film’s score is a haunting, moody sound played on electric guitar. It gives the relevant scenes quite a stark and contemplative tone, reminiscent to that achieved by Gustavo Santaolalla in the similarly bleak drama 21 Grams.

Water is frequently used as a metaphor in this film. Life is a river, with different stages to it as it flows along. Equally, for pain to be conquered, one must find its source or risk being carried off on its strong currents. Similarly, time and time again, solace and explanations are said to be found in literature. At the same time, the limitations of literature as a presciption for life are just as ruthlessly highlighted.

In all, if this film has a flaw, it is that it is an almost perfect example of French film-making from director and scriptwriter Philippe Claudel. In other words, it is so impressive that it almost seems to good to be true. Well paced, well cast, well potrayed, this film manages the worthy feat of being so simple, yet so detailed and moving. It is a thoroughly recommended piece of cinema.