Sabine Kiberlain is one of France's best actresses, but her first film as director is a tame affair. Its heroine Irene (played by Rebecca Marder) is a young Jewish girl living under the Nazi occupation in 1942, ambitious to enter the conservatoire and become an actress. I imagine her story doesn't end well: I say imagine because the whole thing was so tedious that I left after about 40 minutes, and don't know why I stayed that long. There are far too many scenes of Irene rehearsing Marivaux and she is an irritatingly self-absorbed character, so self-absorbed that she seems blissfully unaware of the danger she and her family are in, perhaps because there was no sign of any Germans. There have been countless films about the occupation of France in WW2, and this is far and away the least interesting one.
2 Reviews
Kiberlain's directorial debut is a masterpiece
septimus_millenicom7 February 2024
Warning: Spoilers
_A Radiant Girl_ is an absolute masterpiece. It opens with surprising 2.35:1 widescreen compositions, faces in close-ups -- off-kilter, off to one side, against a dark background, against the void -- delivering classically written lines. It is slowly revealed that they are auditioning for a Marivaux play. Indeed this turns out to be a unique film, classically informed yet sui generis -- like the director Sandrine Kiberlain herself as an actress.
Kiberlain follows in the recent footsteps of numerous French actresses who have also become visually sophisticated directors (Nicole Garcia, Melanie Laurent, Hafsia Herzi ...). As a group, they seem preternaturally primed to channel the great cinematic story-tellers they have worked with, as though through osmosis. In _A Radiant Girl_ the point of reference is clearly Benoit Jacquot, whose _False Servant_ (also based on Marivaux) she starred in. Her lead actress, Rebecca Marder in a star-making role as Irene, also has extensive theater background; she is one of the youngest salaried members of the Comédie-Française, ever. Irene is a high-spirited, impossibly talented 18-year-old non-practising Jew living in the shadow of Nazi-occupied Paris. Keen on being selected into a conservatory, she enlists her friends and family in rehearsals, blind to the encroaching restrictions and intolerance -- even after she is fired from an usher job and is forced to wear the yellow star. She is also experiencing the throes of first love, feigning poor eyesight so she can spend time with an optometrist's assistant. Like many Frenchmen in the film Jacques embraces her ethnicity. But virulent elements are on the rise, like the resentful waitress who informs on her. The film ends with Irene on verge of being arrested by Nazi agents, to the horror of devoted friends in that cafe; sitting with her back to the entrance she never sees it coming.
The film's focus on the lives and loves of exalted Jewish youths soon to be rounded up is very much in the tradition of _Au Revoir Les Enfants_ and _The Garden of the Finzi- Continis_, although _A Radiant Girl_ even more radically elides the horrors of Nazi rule. Unlike those work it has a female protagonist whose tunnel-vision define this film's point-of-view. In interviews Kiberlain reveals this is the central insight that gives her the point-of-entry into that dark era of German occupation/French collaboration. Another nod to French cinematic tradition is the troupe of impossibly passionate, idealistic students driven to learn the classics, to debate the fine points of literature. They may be catty about the talent of their peers, but on the whole there is not a mean bone in their bodies. These are truly the best of youth; to touch a hair of any of them is a crime against all humanity. I am particularly enchanted by idyllic scenes of Irene cavorting with lover and classmates in cafes and in outdoor picnics just before tragedy strikes. Those scenes remind me of Eric Rohmer, but also of Pierre-Auguste Renoir's masterpiece "Luncheon of the Boating Party." I have always thought that "Luncheon" was the impressionists' answer to da Vinci's "The Last Supper." Communal bliss and betrayal/mortification are two sides of the same coin; only in tandem can the full measure of each be registered. In that sense, Renoir's painting is as sacred an artform as da Vinci's. The same may be true of _A Radiant Girl_, implicitly in conversation with Holocaust films of the past.
In this directorial debut, Kiberlain wisely plays to her strength and that of Marder. The deep insights into the theater acting/auditioning mechanics, and the thrilling creative process behind new takes on venerable roles, are clearly drawn from deeply personal experience. (Speaking of which, Kiberlain seems to be 100% Jewish, with all four grandparents of that ethnicity.) Marder is the spitting image of Valentina Cervi playing another inspired artist in _Artemisia_. Her Irene has the hauteur of Marie Gillain in Tavernier's _The Bait_, and her fainting spells and tender scenes with father and grandmother remind me of Irene Jacob in _The Double Life of Veronique). Some actors are always ten times better than their material and their costars. Others, no matter how brilliant, thrive on special roles and dedicated direction. I should have recognized Marder from the forgettable _Mama Weed_; consulting my notes, I once thought that she should have switched roles with Lola Creton in a period film _Quarter_. In _A Radiant Girl_ Kiberlain gives her full license to express herself, perhaps even to take on the director's quirky acting persona (not that anyone can truly imitate Kiberlain, a unicorn among actors). She brings out the best in Marder, who must be now considered among the most gifted French actresses of her generation.
The production design by veteran Katia Wyszkop is first rate, all muted colors which highlight the very occasional flush of red on Marder's lips or chin. (Especially her red ribbon, for good luck, which becomes a plot point.) The film clearly has a limited budget; there is not a vintage car in sight, WWII era technology is restricted to rotary telephones (later confiscated from Jewish homes), and Paris period landmarks are thinly represented by the banks of the Seine. But the film turns this frugality into strength, emphasizing the timelessness of its premise. The camera work by Guillaume Schiffman is Benoit Jacquot-like, static in the theater scenes, gradually more mobile as the film opens up to the world, both its glory and ugliness. I don't know where the inspiration for the wide screen choice comes from; it must have been one of Kiberlain's acting credits but I am drawing a blank. It provides a poignant contrast, a peripheral vision field for a protagonist who lacks one. But Kiberlain's solo screenplay is as responsible for keeping the story fresh as the technical excellence and Marder's exuberance. There are so many unexpected side stories, they feel off-kilter until you think about them afterwards, and then they feel so right. Lovely use of the Philip Glass concerto at the end. This film will be on my best-of-decade list.
Kiberlain follows in the recent footsteps of numerous French actresses who have also become visually sophisticated directors (Nicole Garcia, Melanie Laurent, Hafsia Herzi ...). As a group, they seem preternaturally primed to channel the great cinematic story-tellers they have worked with, as though through osmosis. In _A Radiant Girl_ the point of reference is clearly Benoit Jacquot, whose _False Servant_ (also based on Marivaux) she starred in. Her lead actress, Rebecca Marder in a star-making role as Irene, also has extensive theater background; she is one of the youngest salaried members of the Comédie-Française, ever. Irene is a high-spirited, impossibly talented 18-year-old non-practising Jew living in the shadow of Nazi-occupied Paris. Keen on being selected into a conservatory, she enlists her friends and family in rehearsals, blind to the encroaching restrictions and intolerance -- even after she is fired from an usher job and is forced to wear the yellow star. She is also experiencing the throes of first love, feigning poor eyesight so she can spend time with an optometrist's assistant. Like many Frenchmen in the film Jacques embraces her ethnicity. But virulent elements are on the rise, like the resentful waitress who informs on her. The film ends with Irene on verge of being arrested by Nazi agents, to the horror of devoted friends in that cafe; sitting with her back to the entrance she never sees it coming.
The film's focus on the lives and loves of exalted Jewish youths soon to be rounded up is very much in the tradition of _Au Revoir Les Enfants_ and _The Garden of the Finzi- Continis_, although _A Radiant Girl_ even more radically elides the horrors of Nazi rule. Unlike those work it has a female protagonist whose tunnel-vision define this film's point-of-view. In interviews Kiberlain reveals this is the central insight that gives her the point-of-entry into that dark era of German occupation/French collaboration. Another nod to French cinematic tradition is the troupe of impossibly passionate, idealistic students driven to learn the classics, to debate the fine points of literature. They may be catty about the talent of their peers, but on the whole there is not a mean bone in their bodies. These are truly the best of youth; to touch a hair of any of them is a crime against all humanity. I am particularly enchanted by idyllic scenes of Irene cavorting with lover and classmates in cafes and in outdoor picnics just before tragedy strikes. Those scenes remind me of Eric Rohmer, but also of Pierre-Auguste Renoir's masterpiece "Luncheon of the Boating Party." I have always thought that "Luncheon" was the impressionists' answer to da Vinci's "The Last Supper." Communal bliss and betrayal/mortification are two sides of the same coin; only in tandem can the full measure of each be registered. In that sense, Renoir's painting is as sacred an artform as da Vinci's. The same may be true of _A Radiant Girl_, implicitly in conversation with Holocaust films of the past.
In this directorial debut, Kiberlain wisely plays to her strength and that of Marder. The deep insights into the theater acting/auditioning mechanics, and the thrilling creative process behind new takes on venerable roles, are clearly drawn from deeply personal experience. (Speaking of which, Kiberlain seems to be 100% Jewish, with all four grandparents of that ethnicity.) Marder is the spitting image of Valentina Cervi playing another inspired artist in _Artemisia_. Her Irene has the hauteur of Marie Gillain in Tavernier's _The Bait_, and her fainting spells and tender scenes with father and grandmother remind me of Irene Jacob in _The Double Life of Veronique). Some actors are always ten times better than their material and their costars. Others, no matter how brilliant, thrive on special roles and dedicated direction. I should have recognized Marder from the forgettable _Mama Weed_; consulting my notes, I once thought that she should have switched roles with Lola Creton in a period film _Quarter_. In _A Radiant Girl_ Kiberlain gives her full license to express herself, perhaps even to take on the director's quirky acting persona (not that anyone can truly imitate Kiberlain, a unicorn among actors). She brings out the best in Marder, who must be now considered among the most gifted French actresses of her generation.
The production design by veteran Katia Wyszkop is first rate, all muted colors which highlight the very occasional flush of red on Marder's lips or chin. (Especially her red ribbon, for good luck, which becomes a plot point.) The film clearly has a limited budget; there is not a vintage car in sight, WWII era technology is restricted to rotary telephones (later confiscated from Jewish homes), and Paris period landmarks are thinly represented by the banks of the Seine. But the film turns this frugality into strength, emphasizing the timelessness of its premise. The camera work by Guillaume Schiffman is Benoit Jacquot-like, static in the theater scenes, gradually more mobile as the film opens up to the world, both its glory and ugliness. I don't know where the inspiration for the wide screen choice comes from; it must have been one of Kiberlain's acting credits but I am drawing a blank. It provides a poignant contrast, a peripheral vision field for a protagonist who lacks one. But Kiberlain's solo screenplay is as responsible for keeping the story fresh as the technical excellence and Marder's exuberance. There are so many unexpected side stories, they feel off-kilter until you think about them afterwards, and then they feel so right. Lovely use of the Philip Glass concerto at the end. This film will be on my best-of-decade list.
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