Dir.
Gael Morel, 2004, France, 90 mins, subtitles
Cast:
Nicolas Cazale, Stephane Rideau, Thomas Dumerchez, Salim Kechiouche
The opening sequence of Le Clan introduces us to a young man running, chased by guys on motorcycles and set to a modern techno piece. It's fast-paced, dynamic, and could serve as a microcosm for this character's own life.
Marc (Cazale) is an angry young man, and shaves his head (and his pubes) to prove it. Why is he angry? No one is really sure - growing up, staying put, ambiguity about his sexuality perhaps, an incarcerated elder brother, an ineffectual father, a recently deceased mother - all of these may have a bearing on shaping a boy's future.
Marc hangs out with his friends - like, all the time - but his younger brother, the tattooed Olivier (Dumerchez) thinks Marc is getting 'weirder and weirder' and spends his time praying and talking remotely to their absent older brother, Christophe, wanting him to return from prison as he's 'scared for Marc'.
How weird is Marc? Well, he has sex with pre-op male transsexuals (that's not the weird part) but one suspects he is about to do the same to his pet dog, given the fact that a provocatively edited sequence pointedly invites the audience - or forces them rather - to witness him kissing said canine somewhat passionately, and is further compounded by his suggestively washing the dog, the camera pulling back to reveal him sitting naked in the bath, one in front of the over, as if lovers. However, before there are cries of 'bestiality', the narrative does stop short of this, and his words "you're not a dog - what are you inside - a hen? A pussycat?" could almost be addressed to himself. On display, then, is his sense of alienation, and his confusion as to his identity. He relates more to an animal than to people, and in loving the dog he seems to be loving himself and demonstrates that he is capable of finer feelings.
When Christophe (Rideau) does indeed return from prison, we find him to be determined to salvage and rebuild his life. When he becomes a supervisor at a meat factory, Marc is even angrier - gone is his role model, and he is jealous of this elder brother's successful, if mundane, life.
The film follows each of the brothers, the effects they each have on the others lives and examines the outcome is for each. Of the three, only one will truly turn his life around.
Women are conspicuously (almost) absent from the film, echoing the absence of the departed mother whose death has affected this family so strongly. Conversely, the brothers condemn their father for not being able to carry out their mother's wish that her ashes be scattered at sea. They attempt to counter his unmanly actions by doing the job themselves, but even then they only cast them into the sea, not the part of the water she'd expressly asked for them to be committed to - they condemn their father but in the end they don't observe her wishes either. The emphasis is on their compensating for the loss of a father figure rather than love for the mother.
Small wonder then that Marc is forced to find camaraderie in his friends, a delightful bunch who communally jerk off to porn movies, and use cell phones as vibrators.
The story itself is oddly quite touching. There are shades of La Haine and American History X , and the narrative raises many a thoughtful debate about the alienation and isolation of young men. However, the film is undoubtedly a fest of homoeroticism. The guys get naked a lot and their rippling torsos are keenly displayed, golden Adonis-like, in many a manly activity such as pumping iron and bathing. The camera almost voyeuristically lingers on their biceps and six-packs, a celebration of the lean, mean male body. Think the guys-at-the-garage sequence in the comedy Zoolander , and you have some idea as to the style, except this time round it's not played for laughs. The pleasure of looking seems to be all the director's rather than women's or even men's. They are nothing more than sex objects.
However, if you can get past the titillation (or not, if you so prefer!) Le Clan is well made, thoughtful yet brutal, and elicits much debate. With an intense performance from Cazale, it is a satisfying way to spend your afternoon, and leave the cinema pondering your own life.
Jean Lynch
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