Swagger (2016)

I saw this one at the newly restored Parkway Theater in Baltimore (though in a smaller theater, not the main one) as part of the Young French Cinema Film Festival curated by Professor Mason. It actually screened in the ACID sidebar at Cannes the year I was there. I'm really glad I went to Baltimore to see it because this deeply affecting film was just beautiful. It's a documentary that explores the lives of young African and Arab (and one Indian) schoolkids living in the suburbs of Paris. The banlieue (suburbs) of Paris are notoriously poor and dangerous and non-white. This documentary is refreshing in that it doesn't focus on the negatives. It rather humanizes these children. Olivier Babinet earns their trust and gets the kids to open up and talk honestly, frankly and unreservedly. We hear stories, funny and sad, of these children that no one else listen to. There's this one really magical moment in the middle of the film. We've been hearing from Aissatou who is very shy. We learn that she was abused as a kindergarten student and she doesn't have many friends. But she has chosen to open up to Babinet, and after being unable to even introduce herself on camera, averting her eyes from the lens, she finally looks up into the camera and smiles. You really feel for these kids. The soundtrack is simultaneously haunting and hopeful. It's a really beautiful accompanying soundtrack that matches the tone of the film. The interviews are beautifully shot, and interspersed with silent shots of the other kids, almost as if they're there listening. But we know that they're not.  In a way, this leads us to believe that their stories, though unique, are universally shared experiences. They become part of a community, something bigger than themselves, more than what they could've ever imagined. It gives them hope. I would remiss if I didn't mention the two most memorable scenes. The first is Regis, sashaying into school in his big fur coat with swagger and style galore. The second is Paul, who confidently dances own the street, lipsync-ing like no one is listening (something that I imagine myself doing sometimes--I don't; but I think this looks good on camera with good, fun choreography).

A Trip to the Moon (Le Voyage dans la Lune) (1902)

This 1902 silent French classic is a landmark in world cinematic history.  The movie was lost and rediscovered in the late 1920s when Melies's importance was recognized.  In 1993, a hand-colored print was found incomplete and it is this version that was restored and screened at Cannes in 2011.  The black-and-white prints were colored by hand to fill in the missing scenes.  To be honest, the coloring was a little distracting, kind of trippy as the shades kept changing ever so slightly.  The restoration also features strange music by the French band Air, which is very twenty-first century.  It did not match 1905 at all, but it did fall in line with the psychedelic colors.  I also saw the pure black and white version, featuring a piano score and some awkward narration.

What is the significance of this film? It pioneered entertaining narrative storytelling in film,  primitive special effects, expensive production value, and "long form" movies (~15 minutes).  The most famous scene is one in which the camera seemingly zooms into a moon with a face.  The special effect is a mechanical rigging system in which he moved the moon toward the camera.  Some substitution splicing lets the capsule rocket ship magically/fantastically appear in the moon's eye.  This is all brought together by a very overly theatrical cast that sort of scrambles about the set in a comical fashion. All filmmakers owe everything to Melies and this film.