This year, I saw two Stephane Brize movies starring Vincent Lindon: "The Measure of a Man" and "At War", it was enough to categorize the filmmaker as the French Ken Loach, and I mean that as a compliment.
Than I had an epiphany, the last movie I saw with Lindon and that left me with similar positive feelings, one about life itself, little people facing big existential crisis, where silent stares spoke loudlier than any richly written monologue, was "A Few Hours of Spring", I didn't know who directed it when I first saw it but retrospectively, I had a hunch the name would be Brize. I was right.
"A Few Hours of Spring" is a film of suffocating austerity, about Yvette, the mother and her estranged son Alain, she's played by Helene Vincent who was the more jovial mother in Chatillez' "Life is a Quiet River" and Alain is Lindon, as a man who just get out of jail and tries to rebuild his life in a crisis-stricken France (the film is set in a small little town).
Once again, Lindon is impeccable as a man of a few words but whose efforts to keep a composure with job offices workers only push his patience at an end when he's with his mother Yvette. And as Yvette, Helene Vincent delivers a masterful performance as a woman who spent her life taking care of the house, cleaning, feeding the dog, peeling the apples, watching TV and having small talks with the gentle neighbor (Oliver Perrier). Even her distraction is a giant jigsaw-puzzle which shows how much company she needs. Obviously the woman minds her own business and can take care of herself.
But she's a woman of principles, too and when her son is released, she's got to offer a shelter. The cohabitation isn't easy, the man is trying to enjoy a little freedom but she can't accept the sight of her son doing nothing but drinking beer and leaving an untidy room. In that little proletarian house, rarely exchanges don't break up into arguments and each actor finds the perfect tone. As Brize pointed it out: he couldn't make the mother totally unpleasant and so she had to elicit some tender feelings, if we don't sympathize with her, at the very least we understand where she's coming from.
Alain isn't exactly a nice man, he's visibly trying to avoid eye contact or unnecessary quarrels, when the two watch a TV program, we're never sure who chose it but we feel whoever didn't won't make a big deal out of it. There's obviously some scars from the past we don't need to know in detail (Brize's camera work shows but never tries to scan their thoughts) but from the silent moments, we understand that the pain they inflict to each other is only the implosion of their personal ordeals triggered by the 'one question too many'.
But the story isn't just about a mother and son coming to terms, there's a subplot and not the least with Yvette suffering from the advance stage of a brain tumor and having lost all hope for a cure, she reached a Swiss association specialized in assisted suicide. I was surprised to learn it wasn't the stating point of the story. As Brize said: it's not a social commentary, he doesn't advocate nor condemn the act, since the choice is already made. If anything Helene is the epitome of dignity and consistency. And even Alain knows his mother too well not to try to stop her. And when we hear the doctor (Véronique Montet) talk to Yvette, it's the same sterile and codified bureaucratic jargon that Brize uses in his more social films. The point is made: medicine is powerless.
So, no debate here, the woman in control decides that even death won't take her by surprise. Somehow Alain is different, maybe a little more volatile. He also gets a little subplot with a romance with Emmanuelle Seigner as a woman met at the bowling game. Everything goes fine until one question about his job that triggers Alain and ends up everything. Alain is a sort of self-deprecating man who's so ashamed of himself that he'd rather close the discussion before getting judged. The way Yvette handles her health and Alain his love affair give us appreciation about how different and conflicted they are. Ironically, the final step in a person's life will reunite them.
If the film isn't easy to follow and contains many silent scenes, it's all building up to that extraordinary moment where Yvette has just drunk the lethal mixture and has a few minutes to live, she's staring at her son who doesn't know what to say, but once she holds his hand, the film unveils all the emotions it kept hidden from the start; the titular few hours of spring. As Brize said; it's only after so much darkness that we can be dazzled by light. It leaves no doubt that there was still love between the two and I even wonder if Yvette didn't decide to live the world that way, to be able to say goodbye to her son, the proper way if not just drop dead like that. When she grabbed her son's hand and tell him she loves her and so he did, it was like the final piece of the puzzle, she could leave in peace.
There's no melodrama in Brize's films, even a sight as banal as two persons sitting at a table in front of a TV takes an extraordinary power. Brize lets the camera roll and his characters act, without indulging to a cut or an editing, so we get the feeling of watching something raw and real. During their most heated quarrel, the mother says to Alain "if it hurts, it might be true".
Same goes for "Hours of Spring", it hurts because it's true, but warms your heart as well, for the same reason.
Than I had an epiphany, the last movie I saw with Lindon and that left me with similar positive feelings, one about life itself, little people facing big existential crisis, where silent stares spoke loudlier than any richly written monologue, was "A Few Hours of Spring", I didn't know who directed it when I first saw it but retrospectively, I had a hunch the name would be Brize. I was right.
"A Few Hours of Spring" is a film of suffocating austerity, about Yvette, the mother and her estranged son Alain, she's played by Helene Vincent who was the more jovial mother in Chatillez' "Life is a Quiet River" and Alain is Lindon, as a man who just get out of jail and tries to rebuild his life in a crisis-stricken France (the film is set in a small little town).
Once again, Lindon is impeccable as a man of a few words but whose efforts to keep a composure with job offices workers only push his patience at an end when he's with his mother Yvette. And as Yvette, Helene Vincent delivers a masterful performance as a woman who spent her life taking care of the house, cleaning, feeding the dog, peeling the apples, watching TV and having small talks with the gentle neighbor (Oliver Perrier). Even her distraction is a giant jigsaw-puzzle which shows how much company she needs. Obviously the woman minds her own business and can take care of herself.
But she's a woman of principles, too and when her son is released, she's got to offer a shelter. The cohabitation isn't easy, the man is trying to enjoy a little freedom but she can't accept the sight of her son doing nothing but drinking beer and leaving an untidy room. In that little proletarian house, rarely exchanges don't break up into arguments and each actor finds the perfect tone. As Brize pointed it out: he couldn't make the mother totally unpleasant and so she had to elicit some tender feelings, if we don't sympathize with her, at the very least we understand where she's coming from.
Alain isn't exactly a nice man, he's visibly trying to avoid eye contact or unnecessary quarrels, when the two watch a TV program, we're never sure who chose it but we feel whoever didn't won't make a big deal out of it. There's obviously some scars from the past we don't need to know in detail (Brize's camera work shows but never tries to scan their thoughts) but from the silent moments, we understand that the pain they inflict to each other is only the implosion of their personal ordeals triggered by the 'one question too many'.
But the story isn't just about a mother and son coming to terms, there's a subplot and not the least with Yvette suffering from the advance stage of a brain tumor and having lost all hope for a cure, she reached a Swiss association specialized in assisted suicide. I was surprised to learn it wasn't the stating point of the story. As Brize said: it's not a social commentary, he doesn't advocate nor condemn the act, since the choice is already made. If anything Helene is the epitome of dignity and consistency. And even Alain knows his mother too well not to try to stop her. And when we hear the doctor (Véronique Montet) talk to Yvette, it's the same sterile and codified bureaucratic jargon that Brize uses in his more social films. The point is made: medicine is powerless.
So, no debate here, the woman in control decides that even death won't take her by surprise. Somehow Alain is different, maybe a little more volatile. He also gets a little subplot with a romance with Emmanuelle Seigner as a woman met at the bowling game. Everything goes fine until one question about his job that triggers Alain and ends up everything. Alain is a sort of self-deprecating man who's so ashamed of himself that he'd rather close the discussion before getting judged. The way Yvette handles her health and Alain his love affair give us appreciation about how different and conflicted they are. Ironically, the final step in a person's life will reunite them.
If the film isn't easy to follow and contains many silent scenes, it's all building up to that extraordinary moment where Yvette has just drunk the lethal mixture and has a few minutes to live, she's staring at her son who doesn't know what to say, but once she holds his hand, the film unveils all the emotions it kept hidden from the start; the titular few hours of spring. As Brize said; it's only after so much darkness that we can be dazzled by light. It leaves no doubt that there was still love between the two and I even wonder if Yvette didn't decide to live the world that way, to be able to say goodbye to her son, the proper way if not just drop dead like that. When she grabbed her son's hand and tell him she loves her and so he did, it was like the final piece of the puzzle, she could leave in peace.
There's no melodrama in Brize's films, even a sight as banal as two persons sitting at a table in front of a TV takes an extraordinary power. Brize lets the camera roll and his characters act, without indulging to a cut or an editing, so we get the feeling of watching something raw and real. During their most heated quarrel, the mother says to Alain "if it hurts, it might be true".
Same goes for "Hours of Spring", it hurts because it's true, but warms your heart as well, for the same reason.