Games Of Love And Chance (DVD)

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When "Games of Love and Chance" (AKA "L´esquive") virtually swept the 2005 César Awards, some critics suggested the win was based more on political factors than on artistic merit. A study of the lives of a group of French teenagers in a heavily Muslim housing project near Paris, Abdel Kechiche´s second feature film is certainly timely.

On the surface, Kechiche´s portrait is not a pretty one. With the exception of Krimo (Osman Elkharraz), the quiet and moody protagonist of the film, this is a group of extremely angry young men and women. The kids scream obscenities at each other; it´s either an endless torrent of "bitch" and "ho" (and much worse) or the constant threats to "whack" each other. For example, there is Frida (Sabrina Ouazani), without a doubt one of the angriest film characters I have ever seen: every word from her mouth is a challenge, every moment a potential crisis. Ouazani maintains a fever-pitched rage that exceeds even David Thewlis´ splenetic tour-de-force-majeure in "Naked" (1993); she´s just a lather of trashy camp away from matching Divine´s operatic fury in "Female Trouble" (1974). And Frida isn´t even the female lead.

This full-on frontal assault can be both exhausting and alienating. Even more depressing than the relentless rage-a-thon is the fact that the characters have obviously been so drenched in vapid popular culture, they can no longer tell the difference between honest expression and mindless mimicry. Even the anger just seems like a pose. There were times when I wanted to fast forward through the fifth consecutive obscenity-laced tirade in a scene. Not until the halfway point did I begin to realize there was something deeper and far more interesting under this roiling surface.

Krimo falls for his white classmate Lydia (Sara Forestier), a budding diva who is rehearsing for the school´s performance of Marivaux´s "Games of Love and Chance." In order to impress her, he bribes his friend to let him take over the male lead even though he is miserably unqualified to play the role (or any other role, for that matter). Krimo´s play for Lydia´s affection disrupts the social fabric of the community. His ex-girlfriend Magali (Aurélie Ganto) threatens Lydia and her peeps with violence if Lydia doesn´t stay away from her man. Even more vehement is Fathi (Hafet Ben-Ahmed), Krimo´s homey and self-styled protector. Outraged that Lydia is playing his friend for a fool, he uses verbal and physical intimidation to force her to make a decision: even in France, it´s still bros before hos.

Kechiche cast the film with non-professional actors from the housing project where he filmed, and he gives his first-time thespians a long leash. Most scenes feel partly improvised, and Kechiche allows conversations to ramble and even fizzle out on their own. The director´s free-form noodling has a verité sensibility, which makes quite a contrast with the melodramatic subject matter (the "real-life" events in the movie are just as theatrical as the rehearsals for the play). Kechiche´s gamble on his amateur troupe pays off handsomely; the performances in this film are superior to 98% of the work ever produced by The Method. Story isn´t as important here as listening: this is a film about the rhythms and patterns of speech of a specific group of kids in a specific location, and I doubt that any stage-trained performers could have pulled off the trick as well as the kids who actually live there. Sara Forestier is particularly impressive since she actually has two roles to play: the "real" Lydia and the stage actress Lydia; she makes both characters distinct and it´s easy to understand why she won the Best Actress César. Elkharraz´s quiet performance is easy to overlook but holds the film together, and Ouazani´s sustained fury is remarkable to behold, even if the role isn´t exactly nuanced.