By Section

Relationships, sexuality, psychology, and human issues have always being both topics the French have been particularly sensible to, and big themes absorbed by their cinema. In that sense, maybe Jacques Doillon is not very different from his colleagues and countrymen. But right there where cinema begins to stare at itself and search for its own forms in an endless game of connections with other artistic disciplines, is where Doillon vivaciously resigns and sets up his own game. For him, it’s nothing less than a privileged access to the darkest corners of the soul and the intrinsic mystery of passion. A place where words have become part of magma-like dialogs; images are an intimate, suspended, and even claustrophobic place that highlight gestures, looks, and movements. The bodies (of both professional and non-professional actors) are shown in all of their immensity, clumsiness, violence, humor, and excess; the way they pronounce words; their accidental existence. This position seems to primarily intend to dissolve all distances: the ones existing between the actors and the point of view; between camera and emotions; and, especially, the one between people in space and time.