This is a bewitchingly rendered but somewhat demanding inquiry into the nature of growing up. The director -- whose name is so long and complicated that it exceeds even the length and complexity of this periphrastic disavowal to use it -- takes us through a mysterious school for young girls.
We see the course of the girls' maturation through the eyes of three of them. First, six-year-old Iris, who arrives in a coffin wearing only her underpants. (Sic.) Then mid-level student Alice, who is given to minor acts of rebellion because she wants to see what the outside world looks like. Then the more mature Bianca, who we see guided through the ceremony of graduation and ultimate release.
And what a school it is! Each of the couple of dozen girls gets a hair ribbon denoting her class level -- red for the tyro Iris, blue for the more experienced Alice, violet for the about-to-bloom Bianca.
But what kind of school is it? There are perhaps two or three grown-up instructors who treat the girls not unkindly but don't tell them much about the curriculum or its purpose. The lessons seem to consist mostly of biology, focusing on the phylogeny and maturation of women -- and many many ballet lessons.
The main building and the five dormitories are secluded in a dark forest that seems filled with butterflies during the warm months. Those butterflies are all over the place. One of the instructors delicately gathers and pins dead specimens in her collection. The girls emerge temporarily from their chrysalis stage to perform a dance for mysterious guests while dressed as butterflies. The guests sitting in the darkened auditorium, applauding and whistling as the clumsy kids twirl about and fall down, all chip in to support the school, as it turns out. I presume the profusion of butterflies has something to do with the stages of human development, though I know not exactly what.
Water is another recurring theme. We see it repeatedly in all its varied forms -- great gushing fountains, spattering rain drops, lakes for the girls to splash around in, lakes for the girls to drown in while trying to escape, bath tubs for girls to stand in and examine their own budding physicality. Does the gurgling water "stand for" something? I don't know. It's constantly shifting its form, so I suppose it's vaguely related to the changes the girls are undergoing.
There's an air of menace about the whole production, especially in the sound and in the scenes in the dark forest, from the very beginning, when Iris arrives in the coffin, until the end, when Bianca is led away with the other graduates and taken to an ominously rumbling trolley in an underground tunnel, to be removed, without explanation, to some strange distant place.
Now, that place MIGHT be the harem of some Arab sheik who has a thing for hordes of young girls feeding him dates -- but that would be an American movie. That's not the ending here, in this French movie. I won't spell out the ending because, well, for one thing, I don't get it.
It's as if the brothers Grimm had come across a fairy tale that had no particular point, that was reportage rather than editorial in nature. There's a lot of ambiguity in the film because there is, after all, a lot of ambiguity experienced in the course of growing up. The director with the too-long name has lovingly painted these experiences on the movie screen.
But be aware that this is rather a longish and definitely slow slog through childhood and doesn't exactly explode with dramatic scenes. No, Van Damm doesn't get to wrench somebody's head off and stuff giblets into the neck cavity. There are instead languorous scenes of girls sitting around or playing on swings. And once in a while one girl says something to another. And later, the other girl may answer, or she may not.
Not to put this movie down but Peter Weir does this kind of thing better in movies like "Picnic at Hanging Rock."
We see the course of the girls' maturation through the eyes of three of them. First, six-year-old Iris, who arrives in a coffin wearing only her underpants. (Sic.) Then mid-level student Alice, who is given to minor acts of rebellion because she wants to see what the outside world looks like. Then the more mature Bianca, who we see guided through the ceremony of graduation and ultimate release.
And what a school it is! Each of the couple of dozen girls gets a hair ribbon denoting her class level -- red for the tyro Iris, blue for the more experienced Alice, violet for the about-to-bloom Bianca.
But what kind of school is it? There are perhaps two or three grown-up instructors who treat the girls not unkindly but don't tell them much about the curriculum or its purpose. The lessons seem to consist mostly of biology, focusing on the phylogeny and maturation of women -- and many many ballet lessons.
The main building and the five dormitories are secluded in a dark forest that seems filled with butterflies during the warm months. Those butterflies are all over the place. One of the instructors delicately gathers and pins dead specimens in her collection. The girls emerge temporarily from their chrysalis stage to perform a dance for mysterious guests while dressed as butterflies. The guests sitting in the darkened auditorium, applauding and whistling as the clumsy kids twirl about and fall down, all chip in to support the school, as it turns out. I presume the profusion of butterflies has something to do with the stages of human development, though I know not exactly what.
Water is another recurring theme. We see it repeatedly in all its varied forms -- great gushing fountains, spattering rain drops, lakes for the girls to splash around in, lakes for the girls to drown in while trying to escape, bath tubs for girls to stand in and examine their own budding physicality. Does the gurgling water "stand for" something? I don't know. It's constantly shifting its form, so I suppose it's vaguely related to the changes the girls are undergoing.
There's an air of menace about the whole production, especially in the sound and in the scenes in the dark forest, from the very beginning, when Iris arrives in the coffin, until the end, when Bianca is led away with the other graduates and taken to an ominously rumbling trolley in an underground tunnel, to be removed, without explanation, to some strange distant place.
Now, that place MIGHT be the harem of some Arab sheik who has a thing for hordes of young girls feeding him dates -- but that would be an American movie. That's not the ending here, in this French movie. I won't spell out the ending because, well, for one thing, I don't get it.
It's as if the brothers Grimm had come across a fairy tale that had no particular point, that was reportage rather than editorial in nature. There's a lot of ambiguity in the film because there is, after all, a lot of ambiguity experienced in the course of growing up. The director with the too-long name has lovingly painted these experiences on the movie screen.
But be aware that this is rather a longish and definitely slow slog through childhood and doesn't exactly explode with dramatic scenes. No, Van Damm doesn't get to wrench somebody's head off and stuff giblets into the neck cavity. There are instead languorous scenes of girls sitting around or playing on swings. And once in a while one girl says something to another. And later, the other girl may answer, or she may not.
Not to put this movie down but Peter Weir does this kind of thing better in movies like "Picnic at Hanging Rock."