The film’s style is classic Dardennes, though they’ve stripped away the moral complexity that typically makes their work so rich, ending the film abruptly, while all but accusing passive audiences of contributing to the broken immigration system that made such an upsetting situation possible. At first, they just make deliveries, but the boss exploits his power and pressures Lokita into various degrading sexual situations as well.
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The authorities aren’t buying it, which forces the kids to find their own patch to the problem by working for a local drug dealer.
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Two other competition films concerned with immigrant characters both felt like the work of two-time Palme d’Or winners the Dardenne brothers in their documentary realism: “Mother and Son” and “Tori and Lokita.” The latter actually was a Dardenne movie about two Ghanian refugees living in Belgium who pose as siblings in order to help 16-year-old Lokita get her papers. Setting his film nearly 90 years later, Mungiu gives us an equally chilling story of bigots who don giant bear costumes in order to threaten unwanted outsiders and the unlikely heroes who challenge them. Watching “R.M.N.,” I was reminded of Robert Benton’s “Places in the Heart,” in which widow farmer Sally Field and blind brother-in-law John Malkovich stand up to the Ku Klux Klan. Mungiu lets these characters speak for themselves, filming the heated objections raised at a town hall meeting over the course of a 17-minute, fixed-camera shot, over the course of which the community’s social contract seems to collapse. She has no choice, since none of the locals will take the low-paying jobs, but that doesn’t stop the angry, openly racist villagers from revolting. Told in the cool, steady-handed style of Russian auteur Andrey Zvyagintsev (“Loveless”), “R.M.N.” takes place in a rural Romanian town, where the manager of a bakery sparks controversy when she hires two South Asian immigrants to help at the factory. In that state, it doesn’t take much to provoke a feeling of cinematic ecstasy, which makes the lack of such cathartic connections in this year’s relatively mediocre lineup all the more disappointing.Īs far as I’m concerned, the festival’s defining scene occurs in “R.M.N.,” a rich and densely layered - but by no means impenetrable - social parable from director Cristian Mungiu (the talent behind “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days”). Jet-lagged and sleep-deprived, we critics tend to sit fragile in front of the sacred Cannes screen. To my surprise, “EO” delivers much of the emotional punch found lacking in this year’s competition. Imagine a modern riff on Robert Bresson’s “Au Hasard Balthazar” crossed with Countess Ségur’s more anthropomorphic “Memoirs of a Donkey.” “EO” follows such a beast as it wanders across Europe, interacting with people who abuse it, or the earth, or both. Another example might be donkeys, which factor into both “Triangle” and Jerzy Skolimowski’s “EO.” The latter is a pro-animal, human-skeptical fable.
It might well have been the scene of the festival, were it not for the perverse programmer who scheduled art-house punk Quentin Dupieux’s “Fumer Fait Tousser” right after, an absurdist smoking-themed comedy which features its own epic barf gag - and just like that, Östlund’s out-there set-piece seems to have met its match (not really, though the novelty certainly feels diminished). But this vom-arama creates a wonderful rift in the film’s high-class veneer, bringing everything down to the crudest of bodily functions (one character, erupting from both ends, alternates between sitting on and bending over her lavatory), à la restaurant scene in “Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life.” Until this point, “Triangle” presents itself largely in aspirational mode, poking pinholes in the characters’ rarefied bubble. Consider this could-be coincidence: Roughly midway through Östlund’s diamond-sharp, influencer-skewering satire - a fitting follow-up to 2018 Palme d’Or winner “The Square,” and a deserving choice for this year’s top prize - a black-tie dinner aboard a posh ocean cruise goes sideways, touching off an outrageous sequence in which the disgraced attendees, puking every which way, wind up swimming in their own effluvia.