Author: Esme Betamax

After a tragedy in his personal life, an African teacher flees his violent country for France, where he falls in love with a local woman who works as a florist.

A Season in France is a quietly devastating feature written and directed by Mahamat-Saleh Haroun, following on from his 2016 documentary Hissein Habré, une tragédie tchadienne.

The grim reality of this story is that it plays out globally every day. The people that have been displaced by war are simply trying to piece together a life. It’s a quiet life that most people are seeking. A safe space that will offer enough stability in which to process their traumas. The landscape in which A Season in France takes place is as regular and mundane as it comes. As Abbas (Eriq Ebouaney) and Carole (Sandrine Bonnaire) share a cigarette break at their market job the frame contains smashed glass, bins, boxes, and a dirty shop awning. This is not the romantic France of Hollywood, this is normal, everyday, working France.

Abbas’s children Asma and Yacine are pitched perfectly – riding the waves of emotion brought on by fear, uncertainty and boredom, yet ultimately more stable than their father, who is overwhelmed by grief and suffering the symptoms of PTSD.

The family is not able to find a permanent home in France, so they begin to explore ideas. Conflicting feelings are stirred as the family unfolds a world map. The place names plucked out have an exciting sound to the children. Their ideas of what life would look like are hopeful, despite the hardships they have faced. To them the world is full of possibilities. Their father, meanwhile, retreats into himself. No doubt overwhelmed by the thought of the many barriers that face them; reluctant to make promises that he cannot keep.

A Season in France is unflinching and truthful. The cruel way in which developed nations treat the dispossessed is all too familiar, both today and throughout history. Abbas references the Europe of 1938 and puts it in such simple, human terms: “It’s not nice feeling undesirable”. A more hopeful account of asylum seekers is found in the Karim Aïnouz documentary Central Airport THF (2018), but both are, ultimately, about heartbreak.

Bisexuals have always been given a hard time. Told to pick a side by both gay and straight people, labelled “greedy”, or simply erased from the narrative altogether. Treacle says a lot in a short amount of time. Within 17 minutes it explores the fluidity and complexity of female friendship.

Representation matters, and things are steadily improving. Despite celebrated small screen examples such as Brooklyn 99 (2013- ) and The Bisexual (2018- ), it still feels like a drop in the ocean.

TREACLE – TRAILER from Cat Dragged In Films on Vimeo.

Featuring writer April Kelley as Belle and Ariana Anderson as the very straight Jessie. It’s really an everyday story – what’s remarkable is that it rarely appears on our screens, at least from this perspective. There is more depth to Belle and Jessie’s relationship than the usual inexplicable female hook-up – Mulholland Drive (2001); Chasing Amy (1997); Black Swan (2010) – all directed by men.

Director Rosie Westhoff does a great deal with little dialogue, as with her 2017 short Crush. Treacle goes right to the heart of sexuality within female friendship and the difficulties that arise when boundaries are crossed. Treacle shows us that heartbreak is possible for promiscuous people too.

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Friends Belle & Jessie go away for the weekend to help Jessie get over a recent break up. However lines are blurred when they a get a little too drunk and the morning after is filled with regret.

Sport is a safe choice for filmmakers. Even if you don’t subscribe to the hype, it doesn’t require any explanation. The Butler Brothers (Mourning Has Broken, 2013;  Confusions of an Unmarried Couple, 2007) use Ice Hockey as an anchor for their action “comedy” First Round Down.

We live in a world where sports are greeted with religious fervour and high hopes are pinned on young sports men and women. Sometimes with tragic consequences: I, Tonya (2017); Senna (2010); I am Ali (2014). Now lower your expectations. First Round Down is not really about sport, it is simply shorthand for the “boys will be boys” mentality. Essentially, if you’re good at sports, it is a license to be a dickhead in all areas of your life.

First Round Down equates spectator sports with brutality. Tim Tucker is hard-wired for violence and this reputation is bolstered by others on a regular basis. The blow of a career-ending injury can be softened by turning your abilities towards a life of violent crime. They are after all transferable skills, and heaven forfend you become a (whisper it) pizza delivery guy.  

First Round Down was screened at Edmonton International Film Festival, Canada in 2016. The landscape of cinema has since experienced some welcome shifts. Just as western politics has experienced some unwelcome ones. Brushing misogyny, homophobia, and general dickishness off as “just locker room talk” has never been ok, but it is increasingly difficult to laugh it off. It’s the thin end of the wedge.

Trading comedy for excellent camerawork, First Round Down is Grosse Pointe Blank (1997) with all of the humour stripped out. Director of Photography Michael Jari Davidson is one to watch, though most of his work to date has been horror (hard pass for me).

Here’s a brief overview:

Tim Tucker, a pouty Ryan Gosling type played by Dylan Bruce, and his goofy Seth Rogen type sidekick Bobby (Rob Ramsay) get involved in humourless hi-jinx and armed robbery.

Everyone likes to talk about the station wagon in which a lot of teenagers had sex. Tim Tucker and Coach trade profundities second only to the Goss brothers. The scenes involving Tim’s little brother are accompanied by wistful guitar music (A Love Song to the City by Kalle Mattson): see, he’s a good guy really. Gimme a break.

You could start watching First Round Down at 1 hour in, and not miss a thing as far as plot goes. First Round Down is a good excuse to get lost down a rabbit hole of Ice-Hockey-themed films, and there are a lot. Slapshot (1977), Youngblood (1986), Red Army (2014), but Mighty Ducks it is not.

Top Knot Detective takes a look at the origins and legacy of a mythical TV show from the early 1990s.

Billed as an ultra-violent kids TV show, Top Knot Detective is essentially Monkey (1978-1980) with the gory special effects of Peter Jackson’s early work – Bad Taste (1987), Braindead (1992).

It is comic and chaotic, but takes us to some very dark places. Presenting the star/writer/director/etc of the show, Takashi Takamoto as a controlling, egotistical maverick, obsessed with his own “artistic vision”. A younger, feistier Neil Breen/Tommy Wiseau type.

Directors Aaron McCann and Dominic Pearce have excelled in producing artefacts around which they build their story. Censored photos, CCTV footage, newsreel, and lots and lots of videotape with dodgy tracking. Using the tried (tired?) and tested talking heads documentary format to create a patchwork effect, Top Knot Detective moves at a satisfying pace. The narrative only comes apart at the seams a handful of times (Wolf the Ripper is a step too far).

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The story is inspired by the programmes McCann and Pearce enjoyed during the latter quarter of the 20th Century. It’s the kind of nostalgia that prompts directors to create hyperreal representations of times past. For example, in Stranger Things, the Duffer Brothers create a time that is more 80s than the 80s itself. McCann and Pearce have taken a very different route from the Duffer brothers, artistically speaking, but their nostalgia is very much the driving force.

Top Knot Detective pays homage to an era of television that embraced wooden acting and wonky sets so beloved by the likes of Matthew Holness, Matt Berry and Richard Ayoade. I recommend pairing it up with Dunyayi Kurtaran Adam (Turkish Star Wars, 1982) for a delirious double-bill.