The Class
Directed by Laurent Cantet. Written by Francois Begaudeau, Robin Campillo and Laurent Cantet, based on the book Entre les Murs by Francois Begaudeau. With Francois Begaudeau, Wei Huang, Esmeralda Ouertani, Franck Keita, Francois Marin, Nassim Amrabt, Laura Baquela, Cherif Bounaidja Rachedi, Juliette Demaille, Dalla Doucoure, Arthur Fogel, and Damien Gomes. (PG-13)
Laurent Cantet's new film The Class is, like the schoolroom experience it so earnestly portrays, by turns enlightening and frustrating, but ultimately—for those willing to see it through—full of reward. A far cry from the American wish-fulfillment drama of Dead Poets Society, this film, about a melting-pot class of teenagers in a Paris being remade by waves of immigration, is fraught with the tensions of cultural differences, the lure and dangers of assimilation, and the question of how best to connect with such a varied group of students.
For Francois Marin, a teacher at a Parisian middle school, it's a game of shifting strategies. At the start of the school year, he comes across as the sort of teacher students find easy to bear, and maybe even confide in: a young, easygoing guy who dresses casually and is willing to entertain questions about his sexual orientation during class time. As the year drags on, however, he finds that a friend is not what most of his kids need.
At once friendly and fractious, the group includes Esmeralda, a sharp-mouthed Arabian girl; Wei, an intelligent but withdrawn Asian boy; and Souleymane, a student from Mali whose inherent intelligence is overshadowed by his recurring violent outbursts. Hovering on the sidelines are the hangers-on and supporting cast—the friends and co-conspirators, occasional rivals, and taunting teens that make up the school experience the world over.
But if the class is multicultural, the French way of schooling is not. Students are forced to learn according to a method that hasn't adapted to the changing reality, and they chafe against its constrictions, realizing—perhaps unconsciously, perhaps not—that a France whose schools do so little to help them is not likely do more for them once they are out in the real world. In retaliation, they cling to their differences, however small, as a means of retaining their individuality.
As tensions rise between the students, Francois finds himself forced more and more into the role of disciplinarian, and seems to spend more time keeping order in his class than he does teaching. When, finally, he snaps, it's by descending to their level and indulging in petty name-calling. It's a moment of human weakness that, in a way he couldn't have foreseen, may change the life of one of his students forever.
The Class is based on the book Entre les Murs by Francois Begaudeau, a teacher and author who also plays the teacher Marin. (One wishes the film kept the original title, which translates as the far more evocative Between the Walls.) Amazingly, all of the students, teachers, and staff in the film are from the same Parisian school—while not a documentary, most everyone here is playing a slightly fictionalized version of themselves, drawing on their own experiences to craft a remarkably believable story. Only once, late in the film, is there the clang of a false note, in a scene involving an unlikely reading of Plato's Republic. In a story that so resolutely refuses to raise up or demonize either side, it's a revelation that feels designed purely for effect, like a copy of Sartre stuffed into the back pocket of a pair of Levis.
Paradoxically, it's that sense of realism that keeps The Class from being a great film. The repetitive nature of the classroom—hours spent conjugating verbs or parsing sentences—drags down the film, creating long lulls where one wonders if anything will happen beyond squabbling. In those moments, we feel like students ourselves, watching the clock and waiting for the bell to ring. But like school itself, the film offers wisdom for those willing to look for it.
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Also this week: When the film version of the hit musical Mamma Mia! was first released, I panned it, calling it "a gaudy mess" that reduced the great Meryl Streep to "a level of ham rarely seen outside an Oscar Mayer factory." I stand by that review, but this weekend the film returns in a form that may make all the difference in enjoying it.
Mamma Mia! The Sing-Along is coming to the Academy of Music in Northampton at 7 p.m. this Friday, complete with onscreen lyrics so the audience—presumably decked out in jumpsuits and boas—can belt out all those ABBA chestnuts. Presented by Out! For Reel Film Series, the event is promoted as "leaving a swath of happiness across the nation—just when we need it most."
The story in brief: Meryl Streep stars as Donna, a one-time singer in an all-girl band who retired to a Greek island to run a dilapidated hotel and raise her daughter. Now about to be married, daughter Sophia (Amanda Seyfried) wants to meet the dad she never knew. She secretly invites three of her mother's old paramours to the nuptials in hopes of discovering which one is her father. Before she can get an answer, there are a lot of song-and-dance numbers, most involving the kind of jaw-dropping booty-shaking common to weddings everywhere. Advance tickets and more information are available at www.OutForReel.org.
At the same time and just across the street, The Northampton Committee to Stop the War in Iraq presents a documentary at the Media Education Foundation on Masonic Street. The Conscientious Objector tells the story of Medic PFC Desmond T. Doss, a Seventh-Day Adventist whose refused to carry a weapon into combat yet became the first conscientious objector to be awarded our highest military decoration, the Medal of Honor.
Despite the predictable ridicule his position engendered, Doss proved himself capable of remarkable heroism in Okinawa when his unit came under heavy fire after scaling a 400-foot high ridge. With 75 of his fellow infantrymen wounded, Doss scrambled into the field under heavy enemy fire to retrieve them, carrying them back to the edge of the escarpment and lowering them by litter over the precipice to safety below. It was a performance (one of many in Doss' career) that won him the respect and admiration of his fellow soldiers—they were the ones that pushed for his commendation.
It was also, to be frank, cinematic. World War II, a towering ridge, a noble underdog of a hero: it's not difficult to imagine you're reading the synopsis of a lost Clint Eastwood picture. That Doss' story is true is all the more amazing, and all the more inspiring.
Jack Brown can be reached at cinemadope@gmail.com.
