Girlhood is
a French film about a group of friends who get up to no good and in the end
become women, so there isn’t really anything particularly new about it as far
as that goes. Where it is different is in the fact that these girls are black
and from the rougher part of Paris. Girlhood
then is a film about growing up but it is not the kind of film that fits
into the white middle class fantasy that most films prefer to stay in. But here
there lies a slight problem with the film.
First,
perfunctorily, the plot synopsis. Marieme (Karidja Touré) is a 16 year old
African-French woman living in an economically deprived suburb of Paris. Her
mother works nights and is rarely around and her abusive brother makes the
rules at home. Falling out of school, she falls in with a gang lead by Lady
(Assa Sylla), and becomes a member of the gang. These friendships help Marieme
become more self-confident but does not necessarily lead to happiness.
Girlhood is
anchored by some fantastic and realistic performances, which often feel more
real than the situations themselves. They give angry and committed performances
that heighten most of the sillier scenes and which carry off both the emotional
and the physical moments. There are a couple of fight scenes that are has
convincing as anything similar in any more masculine film.
Girlhood
offers many things probably not seen before. Films of the urban poor are often
exclusively male so the film does feel unique for its female focus. It begins
with an interesting sequence, in which a group of girls playing American
football, Marieme included, with all the strength and grit that that would
take. We then cut to the same group, shed of the bulky sports gear, walking
home. As they split up into ever smaller groups and walk in amongst crowds of
males, they become quieter and quieter, their heads kept lower and lower. It is
a powerful sequence, in that it shows the subtle ways that paternalism has
remained in society. Nothing in particular happens to anyone, but it is telling
that the scene is nonetheless tense.
For
all the things that are praiseworthy about Girlhood
– its performances, its insight into a side of our society that hasn’t been
seen in such detail before, its mostly fluid plotting – there are some things
had don’t ring quite so true. The film is directed by Céline Sciamma, a white
middle class woman, and, for all her very obvious skill, panache and
understanding, there is an element of distance about her camera. Some critics
have gone as far as saying that she is fetishizing her characters and, indeed,
her performers. I wouldn’t go as far as that, but there is a distance that is
maintained throughout. More problematic for me, however, is the film’s
insistence on casting the film in a near fairy tale light. Girlhood is realistic and grim, but Sciamma seems to wants us to
consider the film more as a work of symbolism. So we do get an insight into
Marieme’s life and the cultural and socio-economic reasons for her indifference
and dissatisfaction with the world outside her friends, but they are very
shallow. Her teacher, castigating her off screen in one scene, is written off
practically as a villain. The film’s refusal to judge does not stretch beyond
the four members of Lady’s gang, which feels only like a denial of reality.
More irritatingly, Sciamma prefers to see Marieme’s very real decline as some
kind of positive, self-actualizing, even feminist experience. After every new
low (her decision to start carrying a knife, her bullying, her petty crime, her
abandonment of her home including her sister), the film cuts to a blank screen
for a long stretch, scored with near triumphant, hopeful, transcendent music.
By the end, Marieme has lost everything and Sciamma prefers to see this as
character building, rather than what it is and what it would be in real life.
By the end, Sciamma’s film seems to celebrate Marieme’s tough life for its
fairy tale and feminist associations, in the process denying its very real
difficulties. It seems, then, that it is not Marieme’s blackness that Sciamma
is fetishizing, but her poverty.
There
are a lot of films about the urban poor and the difficulties of their existence
due to a range of factors from uncaring bureaucracy to unemployment to drugs to
crime. Girlhood is worthy of
celebration of approaching the subject from an angle too long ignored. It has a
fantastic cast of young and honest actors. But what Girlhood depicts is real, not symbolic, and it is hard not to feel
that a disservice has been done.
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