Nana is four years old and lives in a stone house beyond the forest. Back from school one late afternoon, all she finds in her house is silence. A journey into the night of her childhood. The world at her height.
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A strangely beautiful disquieting hypnotic dream of a film. Throughout a growing sense of pervading dread. There's an entire world that exists before and after this fragment. I want to know more about that world and yet...I feel it is better if I never do.
Simply beautiful. Even if it starts in such innocent joy and finishes under the burden of such sadness. Still think I've missed something on the way, I'll see it again with my daughter. Powerful lesson on surviving loss and grief, and the little girl's performance - astonishing.
Remarkable first feature from director Valerie Massadian that captures the world from the perspective of a 4 year old girl living rurally in France with a single mother. Slight but poignant with an endearing and involving turn by wee Kelyna Lecomte. The still camera adds a certain verisimilitude to the images captured. Bears promise.
"Massadian, who worked with the child for almost two years, has coaxed a performance of remarkable lucidity. Through the stillness of her camera and the flexibility of her vision, she transforms a skeletal tale into a rich portrait of innocence poised on the very brink of awareness." - Jeanette Catsoulis, NY Times
A movie I'd like to like more than I actually did. Beautiful cinematography, good acting, thematically interesting (by which I mean the juxtaposition of the child and the baby animals, and in general the relationship between humans and animals). Lots of good things, yet the whole point seems vague, and thus even at its short length it starts to feel like the cinematic equivalent of doodling.
Massadian lures us in with a static frame that alludes to the tranquility of this monastic lifestyle, though the distress of the pig slaughter begins to suggest otherwise. For Nana the rural setting is suggestive of such idyll but it's at ends with the furious pace which her mother moves through the frame, a figure of discontent. From that we build our own narratives, and I wrongly suspected a metaphysical fable.