Love Like Poison (France, 2011)
Directed by Katell Quillévéré
Starring Clara Augarde, Lio, Michel Galabru, Stefano Cassetti

For all the doom and gloom around sequels, prequels, reboots and remakes, 2011 has also been a year of striking debut features. Adding to The Guard, Sarah's Key and Oranges and Sunshine, we now have Love Like Poison from French-Ivorian director Katell Quillévéré. What appears on the surface to be just another coming-of-age story slowly reveals itself as a subtle, haunting and emotionally charged look at religion, sexuality and adolescence.Love Like Poison is set in the Brittany countryside and follows a 14-year-old girl called Anna Falguères (Clara Augarde) as she prepares to take Catholic communion for the very first time. Her mother and father are recently estranged, and the former increasingly seeks comfort in the company of local priest Père François (Stefano Cassetti). Both women are left to care for Anna's bedridden grandfather, who spends his days listening to old records and smoking cigars. While all this is going on, Anna is being wooed by Pierre, a boy younger than her who loves his football and loves her even more.The first real asset of Love Like Poison is its strong colour palette. Tom Harari's cinematography is melancholic and beautiful, resting on a prominence of blues and in particular whites. The white is not intrusive like the shimmering walls of a hospital, but pale, wan and pure like the chalk cliffs of the French and English coasts. Sometimes it is so bright that it drowns out the characters, like the yardsticks of purity to which they must aspire, knowing full well that their desires will cause them to fall short. In one scene where Père François lies praying in his bed, his black clothes fade into the dark blue covers, like he is sinking or even drowning in the gathering darkness.In its evocative and symbolic use of colour, the film draws an immediate comparison with Three Colours - Blue. The visual similarities are clear, with both Krzysztof Kieslowski and Quillévéré using different shades of blue to emphasise the sadness, grief and alienation which surrounds the central characters. And there is a narrative similarity in that one of the central characters has lost her husband, and is finding it hard to connect with the world around her. But whereas Kieslowski took a very humanist perspective, focussing on the hidden reserve of Juliette Binoche's character, Quillévéré is more concerned with the conflict between three kinds of devotion - to God, to one's family, and to the passion of young love. It takes more of a religious angle, albeit one in which religion does not come up with all of the answers.The central character in Love Like Poison faces three different but related dilemmas as she moves to take her first step into adulthood. The first concerns her attitude towards religion and the church. Anna's faith at the beginning of the film seems well-rooted and taken for granted: she keeps a picture of Christ at her bedside, and attends church with her family, of her own will as much as out of ritual. But by the end of the film this has grown lukewarm, as she faints in front of the Bishop and remains silent when he asks questions to the congregation, asking them to affirm their faith. There has not been a decisive volte-face on Anna's part, but doubts have entered her life which makes an outright committal impossible.The second dilemma concerns Anna's attitude towards her family. There are a number of awkward conversations between Anna and her mother as her confirmation approaches. Anna asks her mother about what she looked like at her age, and gets an inconclusive answer. Later her mother comes into the bathroom as she is topless, saying that she wants to look at her; Anna unfolds her arms to reveal her bare breasts and snipes sarcastically: "Do I turn you on?" Anna has to care for her mother for much of the film, and is determined not to end up like her, looking upon her relationship with Père François with some suspicion.In her effort to avoid turning into her mother, Anna turns towards the affections of her estranged father. When he first returns home to deal with the death of Anna's grandfather, he seems to genuinely want to bond with her, taking her to the beach and talking about coming to live with him in Quimper. But as the action moves on the distance between them re-emerges: he leaves without a moment's notice to return to his new life, leaving Anna angry and alone.This encounter leads onto the third of Anna's dilemmas, namely her relationship with and attitude towards men. Her grandfather is dismissed as harmless but becomes pervy as the film rolls on, fantasising over a magazine and getting turned on by Anna washing him. Both her father and the priest come across as well-meaning but ultimately incompetent, or at least too at odds with their own desires to be of any real use. Pierre, on the other hand, begins very aggressively, pinning her down on the rock to kiss her when they are out in the woods. But by the time they take their tops off they are on equal terms, and when Anna kisses Pierre in his room, she seems to have come into her own.What makes Love Like Poison interesting as a coming-of-age film is that the struggles of the central character don't feel isolated, like some weird disease which only affects young people. The adults in the film have the same concerns and qualms with regard to religion and relationships, and there are no convenient plot devices to tone these down. Where American coming-of-age films tend to portray the step into adulthood as something with a definite endpoint, with the lines between child and adult clearly drawn, the characters in Love Like Poison are still walking the treacherous emotional path that Anna has just begun to explore.Love Like Poison is a deeply atmospheric film. Beyond its visual claustrophobia, its use of sound and music in particular is haunting and thought-provoking. In one early scene, when Anna wanders through the ruins to meet the priest, a version of 'Greensleeves' can be heard. This folk tune, erroneously attributed to Henry VIII as a love song to Anne Boleyn, has strong sexual connotations: "green gown" was a euphemism for prostitute, since such garments would disguise any grass stains caused by outdoor lovemaking.Over the end credits, where Anna seems to have found some kind of uneasy peace with Pierre, there is a choral version of Radiohead's 'Creep', previously used on trailers for The Social Network. Although the effect is not as powerful as in Fincher's film, it cements the tone of unease and eeriness which lifts the film while keeping the air close and thick with rumour. Like Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, Love Like Poison is a film in which on the surface nothing is happening, but in fact there is so much going on.There are a couple of flaws with the film which stop it totally achieving a knock-out punch. Apart from some standard quibbles over paucity of plot and occasionally languorous pacing, the main concern is over the amount of nudity. For the most part the film handles the matter sensitively, if not poetically; while it doesn't shy away from nudity as a concept or rite of passage, it doesn't by and large see this as an excuse for ill-judged gratuity. But while the woodland scenes are well-judged by showing hardly anything, the sight of the old man's erection is disgusting, even when it's in his trousers, and when Anna lifts her dress to show him her womanhood, it feels totally unnecessary to both plot and mood.Love Like Poison is a very promising debut effort which both avoids the clichés of coming-of-age stories and does just about enough to cover up its own flaws. Katell Quillévéré directs with finesse and sensitivity, creating an atmosphere of great unease and a host of complex characters, anchored by Clara Augarde's great central performance. You will want to spend some time afterwards trying to work out where you stand with regard to the people on screen, especially over Anna's state of mind in the denouement. While not perfect, it contains much to be admired, along with a great deal that will linger.

Rating:
Verdict: A striking and haunting debut

Oranges and Sunshine (UK, 2011)
Directed by Jim Loach
Starring Emily Watson, David Wenham, Hugo Weaving, Tara Morice

There have been a number of young directors coming through recently who have gained attention not just through their talents but through the reputation of their fathers. We have Nicolas Winding Refn, son of acclaimed editor Anders Refn, whose recent feature Drive could translate his cult status in Europe into mainstream popularity. We have Rowan Joffe, son of The Mission's Roland Joffe, whose remake of Brighton Rock contains moments of future promise. And now we have Jim Loach, son of Ken, who has delivered one of the best films of the year with Oranges and Sunshine.Oranges and Sunshine is a biographical drama based on the life and work of Margaret Humphreys, a social worker based in Nottingham in the mid-1980s. In 1986 she came into contact with an Australian woman trying to trace her parents, and through her investigations uncovered the Home Children programme which had been pursued by the British, Australian and Canadian governments for over a hundred years up to the 1970s. The programme was based on the notion that it was cheaper to care for orphans by sending them to Australia than it was to keep them in Britain, leading thousands to be rounded up and sent off to what they were told was a better life.Like his father's best work, Oranges and Sunshine finds Jim Loach marrying gripping and contentious political issues to very well-written character drama. This is not an Oscar-baiting film which bends over backwards to convince us that Margaret Humphreys is a saint and what she is doing is incredibly worthy. We do not have to be lectured about how important the subject matter is: its extraordinary and at times shocking nature emerges naturally and powerfully, as a result of deeply empathising with the characters.The character construction in Oranges and Sunshine is comprehensive and yet completely unforced, thanks to a wonderful screenplay by Rona Munro. Emily Watson, whom I once described as "the go-to actress for delicate, sensitive female characters", turns in another remarkable performance as Margaret Humphreys. Her character is relentless in pursuing her goal - not justice, or revenge, but catharsis for the people involved. But the film doesn't portray her in an entirely rose-tinted way; we see the effect that her selfless crusade is having, whether on her marriage, her health or her reputation.Over the course of the film, Watson's character finds her existing principles as a social worker coming into conflict with both the physical and emotional demands of her new line of work. She has spent her life trying to keep a distance between herself and her subjects, adamantly declining to share in their most personal moments. But the more her work uncovers, the more she becomes an integral part of what is unfolding, as both a spokesman of the Home Children and increasingly as their friend. In an understated and naturalistic way, the film explores how people are changed, often against their will, by their dedication towards a cause, to the point at which it becomes their life's calling.Watson is ably supported by two brilliant members of the supporting cast. Hugo Weaving as terrific as Jack, one of the first people Humphreys take on board to try and find his mother. Every time he is on screen, our heart leaps at the merest hint of a smile from underneath that huge brown beard. He is someone who has been hurt deeply in the past, and after all this time of repressing or forgetting, he genuinely wants to reach out and connect. It's a very busy performance, with lots of hand gestures and fidgeting, but it feels completely genuine.The other great performance comes from David Wenham, who worked with Watson six years ago on The Proposition. There is an obstinate air about Len, a sense of distance and denial; when we first meet him, we think that he might be some kind of government mole, attempting to infiltrate and snare Humphreys. But he emerges as someone of immense loyalty who is difficult but self-effacing. His first meeting with his mother isn't shown on screen, but his expression would lead us to think that it was as difficult as he was.Wenham's character also gets one of the most moving lines in the film. After they have taken tea with the brothers at Bin Doon (more on that later), Margaret asks him about how he feels and why he can't open up emotionally. Len replies: "I had to stop crying when I was eight. I wouldn't know how to start now." It's a beautiful line which conveys so much about the trauma of these people, whose whole identity has been called into question.Even in its most serious moments, you could call Oranges and Sunshine a tear-jerker, because it is impossible not to show emotion at the plight of these men and women. Certain sections feel like a documentary, with a montage of individuals candidly talking about their experiences with the Christian Brothers or working on farms. One man talks about being repeatedly beaten; another recounts a gruesome incident of rape; another still remembering being told that he had "a lovely singing voice", a comment which led to him being castrated. These scenes are shocking, harrowing and heart-breaking, causing us to seethe with anger at what happened but also weep for what these men went through.There are also several scenes in Oranges and Sunshine which are very frightening. On two occasions Margaret's base in Australia is attacked by masked men working for the Christian Brothers - they attempt to break into her house, throwing bricks and calling her everything under the sun. But more terrifying is the deeply uncomfortable sequence in the dining hall at Bin Doon. Margaret is taken by Len to eat with the priests, many of whom were personally involved in the abuses detailed in the film. There is a very awkward silence while Len goes to make some tea, before Margaret finally plucks up the courage to speak. When she does, it is not to condemn or make small talk: she simply asks if they are afraid of her, and if so, why?In terms of its subject matter and approach, the film is an interesting companion piece to Rabbit-Proof Fence, Philip Noyce's docudrama about the relocation and Christianisation of aborigines. Both films take very dim views of the governments involved, or at least dispute the moral reasoning behind the decisions they made. But more importantly, both films have their political analyses rooted in the emotions and extraordinary acts of ordinary people. Margaret's meetings with government officials in Oranges and Sunshine are comparable to Kenneth Branagh's scenes in Rabbit-Proof Fence; the film is attacking what these individuals stand for, but it doesn't demean them by refusing to consider or depict their human nature.The film is beautifully shot by Denson Baker, who fills the screen with lots of watery, shimmering blues to underscore both the beauty of the landscape and the inherent melancholy of the stories taking place in it. Loach's camerawork is adept and subtle, getting in close to the characters when it needs to but allowing the wide shots to breathe. The film captures the period settings very well, particularly the faded streets of 1980s Britain. And all of these visual elements are elevated by the score from Lisa Gerrard, who worked with Hans Zimmer on Gladiator. There is a further comparison here with Rabbit-Proof Fence, whose soundtrack featured Peter Gabriel and The Blind Boys of Alabama; both films bring raw yet ethereal tones to the arid landscapes of Australia.Oranges and Sunshine is an impressive and powerful debut from Jim Loach, who has inherited much of his father's gift for moving, honest and vulnerable filmmaking. Its opening section is a little slow and conventional, but after a shaky start it never misses a beat, refusing to flinch from the most difficult aspects of its subject matter. Unlike Sarah's Key, it also refuses to tip over into melodrama as the more familial elements encroach towards the end. But its biggest achievement is to convincingly and understatedly marry politics and drama together, creating a film of great quality which will break your heart.

Rating:
Verdict: A powerful and promising debut