Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Humanism in Formality: The Films of Antoine Bourges

Fail to Appear (2017)

Back during the spring of 2018, as I had just finished my second semester of college, I was amidst an intense growth in my cinephilia. For the first time in my film education I felt unbounded by various canons, critic's lists, and the need to follow what I considered a heavily politicized standard to learning the art. While I understood and appreciated the formal and historic importance of Fellini and Ford, the manner of which their respective works were taught within the homogenized ether of typical American film academia didn't sit too well consciously. Knowing just how deeply expansive cinema's parameters were realistically, this standardized, often classist Euro-centric narrative seemed nothing but limiting to me. So starting the beginning of my college enrollment, I made the decision to explore the medium's offerings all on my own volition (with proper context of course). Whether classical or contemporary, it was about crafting my own specialized intake of what cinema was and could be.

It was during this time that I found out about MUBI and their personalized curation of films made for adventurous cinephiles alike. At the time of subscribing to the service, a partnership with Film Society of Lincoln Center saw a share of their Art of the Real program being streamed for immediate home access. The program, billed as a "survey of the most vital and innovative voices in non-fiction and hybrid filmmaking" fascinated me as I had taken profound self interest in documentary film both as an educator and a creative outlet. Among the small selection was an intriguing film by the name of Fail to Appear (2017) by Toronto based filmmaker Antoine Bourges. I knew nothing of the film and Bourges prior to viewing, as well as its leading lady, Deragh Campbell (a rapidly rising star within the indie world), so going in, I had zero clue what to expect.

Fail to Appear is set within the bureaucratic system of social services in Toronto and follows Isolde (played by Campbell), a young caseworker with a certain dry, lethargic exterior. Right from the get go, Bourges makes his aesthetic and ideological principles clear. Beginning with a long take of Isolde engaging in the ever so joyous task of printing multitudes of paper documents, followed by subsequent long, static observational shots of her routine work day, Bourges' directorial assessment immediately strikes the initiated viewer of that of a Wiseman clone in form, infused with the stripped down, minimalist aesthetic of Straub-Huillet. What one also takes notice of (which may go over less informed audience's heads, such as I) is that of the presence of Campbell in the first place who is not a caseworker in her own right. With a certain Kiarostami-eqsue blending of fictive and non-fictive elements put in place, Bourges weaves his areas of interest and contained subjects to properly assist his narrative regimen.

Isolde is tasked with aiding Eric, played by non-actor Nathan Roder, in an upcoming court hearing. Eric's case convicts him of petty theft and his coming hearing a repeat after failing to appear the original date. But his time spent interacting with Isolde paints a much more intricate portrait of the circumstances regarding his situation. Eric is a functioning schizophrenic whose diagnosis and through a piercingly bare scene of dialogue suggests a non deliberate misdoing on his behalf. Bourges deconstructs the harmful myths and ethos surrounding such criminal charges as Eric's and his factoring mental illness to seemingly argue that the system who in theory exists to fairly try and categorize individuals also happens to be the party guilty of eradicating each's own human complexity and as a result, reduces the integrity of each individual to that of a blank representation of their respective wrongdoing. Morality is simply caged to fit equally simple narratives. Opposite of Eric, Isolde, despite her detached demeanor, displays a subtle, but dedicated compassion which not only sees her merely assist, but even make efforts to make lunch plans (to Eric's reluctance) and accompany him on public transit as well as his eventual hearing. Despite the nature of her work being impersonal in design, again reducing each person to a neatly organized case, her fleeting time spent with Eric reverberates oppositely.

Running a little over an hour, the film sees Bourges experiment both with form and with dramaturgy. Fail to Appear does not aim to follow a clear cut narrative, but to present vital fragments of events that exist on a spectrum beyond a three act structure. Bourges even makes the decision to shift the narrative halfway through, as the film goes from Isolde's story to Eric's. What follows is a heartfelt ode to Eric's being as we eventually wander past the initial environments the film starts with to the comfort of his own home where a special talent of his emotionally crescendos the rest of the film.

Two patrons enjoy a moment of levity in East Hastings Pharmacy (2012)

Fast forward to the present where last week I managed to get to Bourges' previous and only other feature, the pertinently titled East Hastings Pharmacy (2012). Like Fail to Appear, Bourges faces his camera towards another institution, this time the pharmaceutical industry and more specifically, a methadone program set in downtown Vancouver. Day by day, regulars at the pharmacy line up before the barricaded counter that supplies their prescribed intake of methadone served inside a disposable paper cup. After ingesting their dosage, they are handed two lollipop sticks as consolation and merrily sent on their way. The facility is compact in design with only an added seating area available for temporary lounging. Above, an old analog television looms over for customers' entertainment. Juxtaposed alongside the main exchanges at the window are various scenes of dialogue between patrons as they often share laughs or recount stories to one another at this space. Bourges' approach here is straightforward but nevertheless humanizing.

Bourges casts actress Shauna Hansen as the film's lead, the main pharmacist who exists as an open stand-in for the audience as we gaze at various transactions made from just behind her glass barrier, an obvious but literal metaphor. With commonalities to Deragh Campbell's Isolde, Shauna is also a closed off individual. Her relationships with patients remain casual and she never breaches beyond professional conduct during moments of frustration and desperation by those just on the other side of her protected space. Though this role of being the hand that feeds for a larger entity does not also come without its emotional tolls. In a later scene, Shauna's moral struggle about the effects of her work confront her harshly through the anguished pleas for help by a patient one day seemingly impacted negatively by what should be her treatment. Despite clear distress being signaled through Shauna's replies, she remains utterly immobile in her role, unable to do much beyond what is standard procedure.

The biggest distinction Pharmacy has in comparison to Fail is the much more seamless manner of which Bourges infuses his dichotomy of real and unreal elements with the casting of actual addicts to reenact and improvise scenarios true to their own. This not only provides a rawer, truer sensibility to the film, enabling some truly unflinching moments brought on by drug addiction, but as a result, acutely questions the usefulness of methadone programs by critiquing its negative effects by those individuals directly hit. But for me, what makes the film stand out most is how Bourges dissects and configures the limited space of which he works. The titular East Hastings Pharmacy is a cramped space and only beyond what has already been described is the back area for employees only. There exists so few possibilities for spacial exploration through the camera yet Bourges pulls it off with aplomb. The film consists of a series of fixed shots and angles that cut back to each other in semi-sequential order. Regular views include both sides of the counter of which Shauna operates including a close-up of the open space where she passes items through by hand, the lab in the back for her and her co-worker to fix various drugs, and the seating area of which patrons lounge to name the essential few. Unassumingly forward in its presentation, Bourges through clever convenience, shoots and edits his film with Bressonian rigor that is at once apt but ingeniously fitting for his glimpses of institutionalized repression of human compassion.

Bourges abstracts the mimetic qualities of documentary to create a blurred fictive reality where dramatic, performative gestures communicate the underlying humanism within the institutions and systems that represent the hard opposite. Bourges isn't advocating for these structures, but rather highlighting the struggles of humanity faced within what is a cold, labyrinthine system of laws, codes, and hierarchical power. When it comes to discussing the great humanist filmmakers of all time, Bourges deserves honest ranking with Ken Loach and the Italian Neo-Realists whose films so often are taken for obvious grant. In terms of discoveries I've made separate of any curriculum, Bourges instantly comes close to the top. Hoping his work catches on one of these days.

Below are Vimeo links of which both films can be rented or purchased. Support Antoine Bourges!

https://vimeo.com/ondemand/failtoappear

https://vimeo.com/ondemand/easthastingspharmacy2






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