Onlooker at, REMEMBER TO FORGET exhbition BY MAME DIARRA, at Henri Cartier Bresson Foundation – Nida Kamal
In a society where everything seems calibrated to maximize profitability, the work of art stands out for its unique nature and its refusal to be reduced to a mere product. While industries push for standardization and mass production, art runs counter to this trend. It offers a singular vision, an irreproducible creative gesture, and a value that transcends economic calculations. But how does this artistic uniqueness endure in an era dominated by profit-driven logic?
Let’s delve into this reflection, where art asserts itself as a space of resistance against widespread commodification.
Intrinsic Uniqueness Defying Standardization
Unlike a product designed to meet specific and often universal needs, a work of art is born from a deeply personal intention. Every artist expresses, through their work, a unique vision shaped by their experiences, emotions, and imagination. This subjectivity gives art its intrinsic value, impossible to standardize.
Take, for example, Banksy, the world-renowned street artist. His works, often ephemeral and contextual, lose some of their impact when transformed into consumer items—posters, t-shirts, or mugs. This disconnect highlights how the essence of a work diminishes when inserted into a mass production logic.
A Direct Opposition to Economic Logic
In an economic system where everything must generate a return on investment, art seems to be an anomaly. A work of art does not adhere to the same criteria as a conventional product. It is not created to be profitable or even to please a predefined audience. Its purpose lies elsewhere: to evoke emotion, tell a story, or provoke reflection on universal themes.
Consider contemporary art, often criticized for its commodification. Some argue that pieces like Jeff Koons’ Balloon Dog, sold for astronomical sums, exemplify an excessive commercialization of art. Yet even in these cases, the work retains an artistic intention that surpasses its mere monetary value.
The Danger of Mass Reproduction
In a world where images circulate without limits and objects multiply infinitely, art risks losing its uniqueness when reduced to mere reproduction. A painting like Vincent van Gogh’s The Starry Night, for instance, is reproduced on hundreds of thousands of products: posters, cushions, phone cases. While this democratizes access to art, it can also dilute its essence and depth.
Onlookers at Immersive Van Gogh Experience – Nida Kamal
However, this reproducibility has its limits. Walter Benjamin, in his essay The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, emphasized that a work’s “aura”—its uniqueness and authenticity—cannot be captured by a copy. The original remains inimitable precisely because it bears witness to a unique moment of creation.
Art as a Refusal of Planned Obsolescence
In an era marked by increasingly short consumption cycles, where products quickly become obsolete, art exists in a different timeline. A work does not follow trends; it transcends them, standing as timeless. This is why creations from centuries ago continue to captivate.
Consider Michelangelo’s sculptures or Rembrandt’s paintings. These works, despite the passage of time, continue to fascinate and inspire. They escape the logic of rapid consumption, embodying a permanence that defies societal norms.
A Unique Experience for Every Viewer
Another essential dimension of art’s uniqueness lies in its interaction with the viewer. Unlike a product designed for a specific function, a work of art invites interpretation. It is never received uniformly; every individual projects their emotions, history, and perspective onto it.
Take Pablo Picasso’s Guernica. Some see it as a poignant denunciation of war, while others interpret it as a universal cry of despair. This capacity to provoke different responses makes each artistic experience unique, something no standardized product can offer.
GUERNICA by Picasso – Nida Kamal
The Commodification of Art: A Blurred Line
Despite its uniqueness, art is not immune to commodification. Galleries, museums, and collectors sometimes transform art into a luxury product, contributing to the blurring of boundaries between work and object. In this context, NFTs (Non-Fungible Tokens) have introduced a new dynamic: they guarantee the uniqueness of digital works while embedding them in a financial logic.
This financialization of art raises questions. On one hand, it allows artists to be compensated and recognized for their work. On the other hand, it risks reducing creation to a mere monetary value.
The Independent Artist: Authentic Resistance
In response to this tension between art and profitability, many artists choose to distance themselves from traditional commercial circuits. Through social media and digital platforms, they share their work directly with their audience, bypassing intermediaries. This allows them to preserve the integrity and uniqueness of their work.
Artists like JR or Ai Weiwei, for example, use innovative methods to disseminate their messages. By breaking free from traditional structures, they demonstrate that art can remain a space of freedom and resistance against market-driven logic.
The Work of Art: A Bastion Against Uniformity
In a world obsessed with productivity, art reminds us that there are values beyond economic logic. A work of art cannot be reduced to a product. It is an experience, an emotion, a reflection. Its uniqueness lies in its very essence: a blend of intention, creativity, and authenticity.
Graffitii around Nantes – Nida Kamal
Far from conforming to the rules of profitability, art continues to exist as a space for free and profoundly human expression. In a society that standardizes everything, it invites us to celebrate what is rare, singular, and irreplaceable.
The American company A24 has become a key player of the independent film scene thanks to strong artistic choices. However, the distributor still has many challenges awaiting.
The first successes of a recent distributor
Founded in 2012, the main purpose of A24 was to distribute independent films in theaters so they could meet their audience – which is the role of a classical distributor. The company had from the outset a strong slate of films directed by prestigious “auteurs” such as Sofia Coppola with The Bling Ring, Enemy by Denis Villeneuve or even Jonathan Glazer’s Under the skin. This enabled A24 to adopt an approach favoring low-budget independent films with a strong artistic identity, while they also met commercial success at the box-office with titles like Spring Breakers or even Ex machina in their early days.
Additionally, an important part of A24’s identity as a distributor is that they campaign for their films during the “award season” that happens at the end of each year until the Oscars take place. When Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight won the Academy Award for Best Picture against all odds in 2017, it further consolidated the power of A24 as a distributor, and a co-producer from this point. The company’s rise to fame has been quick, thanks to bold film choices and a strong marketing strategy appealing to a younger generation of cinephiles.
More than a company, an aesthetic
After more than 10 years of existence, A24 has exceeded its role as a distributor and established itself as a brand with a singular identity. Online communities have adopted the term ‘A24 vibes’ to point out a set of distinctive characteristics their films often have. It usually refers to dramatic or horror films with an original artistic perspective in terms of storytelling and setting, a beautiful cinematography with an overall profound message.
We could also consider that the company has a kind of ‘fanbase’, which is a first for such a recent distributor. They sell merch (caps, tote bags, pins, books…) related not only to the films they put in theaters, but that is also only branded with the A24 logo itself. This goes to an extent that it sometimes erases the existence of directors and creative teams behind films, as some can be perceived as merely ‘A24 films’. While it may be an issue, it also shows that the distributor has done a great deal at curating their film slate, up to the point where an identity has emerged – enabling the audiences to identify their films.
However, while A24 excels in marketing and editorial choices, some people argue that they are failing in their original mission. When it comes to distributing, many note that their films are not available for a long time in theaters, especially to those who live in smaller cities, creating a gap in accessibility. Moreover, they focus heavily on American films and offer a very low number of international long-features to audiences. This might just be an integral part of their strategy and identity, but other indie distributors such as NEON are able to be successful with a more diverse slate.
Movies that struggle to land on the French market
While their global online presence is strong and foster a lot of engagement on social media, the films A24 produce tend to struggle to cross physical borders, especially in France. There are many reasons for it, mostly driven by the fact that they mostly address an American audience, with specific themes, actors and a cultural context that mainly make their films relevant on a local market. But isn’t the goal of cinema to transcend borders and deliver universal messages? Especially in France, one of the biggest film economies in the world?
The main issue with the distribution of A24-produced films in France is that they are not easily accessible to the audience, and when they are, they fail to meet critical success. French distributors have often said that these films are expensive because the American company sell them at a high price, so this represents an important investment and risk for most of them.
Some of the films that reached the French market managed to fare well: Moonlight attracted 560 000 theatergoers in 2017, half of which even before its historic Oscar night and more recently, Danny and Michael Philippou’s horror film Talk to me intrigued 515 000 people. However, such successes are rare and many of their films end up being box-office disappointments even when they seemed promising. This is the case of The Iron Claw, a sports drama that didn’t cross the 100 000 theater-goers bar or even Everything Everywhere All At Once. It was a huge success in the US but struggled to get a distributor in France, and while it attracted 350 000 people, this is a bit disappointing considering the critical and domestic commercial success it encountered as it won 7 Oscars and is A24’s highest-grossing film.
So, what’s next?
While the company’s international future is uncertain, there is no doubt that A24 will pursue their domestic efforts in hopes of expanding their audience. This will involve continuing to co-produce the films they distribute, which is something they’ve been doing since the 2020s, and thus offering a slate of long-features that can appeal to more people other than the usual indie-lovers cinephiles. To do so, the firm aims at intensifying its efforts in the production of mid-budget movies like they did this year with Civil War. Their scheduled films for the next few years include Alex Garland’s Warfare and Benny Safdie’s The Smashing Machine, the latter being reported with a budget of $70 million, the most for a film ever produced by the studio. As the film industry is going through many changes, involving indie productions and blockbusters alike, it will be interesting to see how the company will be able to navigate these shifts after rapidly establishing itself as a leader in the independent landscape.
Dance is often perceived as an art divided into various styles, each one with its own particularities: an attitude, a technique, a costume, a type of music, etc. Each style is a universe with its own codes. For example, ballet is seen as the reference in terms of discipline and technique; contemporary dance is perceived as a more deconstructed style, based on the dancer’s feelings and emotions; hip-hop is dynamic with sharp accents and body isolations. Each dance style is often attributed to a category, and we have specific expectations as a result. However, reality is quite different from this theoretical and compartmentalized view of dance. Every dancer develops his own style, and I wanted to recommend some performances that illustrate the breaking down of these style barriers, encouraging us to rethink dance.
Stories – RB Dance Company
The first performance I would like to highlight is called Stories. It was created by the RB Dance Company, a dance group founded in 2018 and revealed on the French TV show La France a un incroyable talent. This is an urban tap dance performance, directed by the talented Romain Rachline Bourgeaud, who offers us a modern and ambitious staging reminiscent of the greatest Broadway shows. Tap dance has long been considered « outdated, » but this performance, which has attracted over 100,000 spectators in France and internationally, renew the style by offering a new approach. The choreographer explains his desire to create a mix between movement and the sound of tap shoes used as a musical instrument to emphasize the key moments of the music. What stands out in this performance is the precision and contagious energy of the dancers who make the stage resonate beneath their feet. This modern show brings tap dance up to date and breaks down style barriers by blending urban jazz, tap, and percussion. The company will be on its final tour in 2024-2025, so be sure to check it out!
The second performance also illustrates the breakdown of style barriers by inviting the audience to rediscover a classic masterpiece through another style. This is the ballet The Nutcracker, reimagined by Spanish dancer and choreographer Blanca Li, who has been recently nominated president of the Grande Halle de la Villette. She offers the audience a chance to rediscover the famous story of The Nutcracker in a hip-hop version. This is a real challenge to modernize this masterpiece without distorting it. She reinterprets the story of The Nutcracker by revisiting Tchaikovsky’s famous score to offer a modern and urban work. The choreographer is accompanied by eight dancers with varied influences but in a very complementary way. Blanca Li will present her shows in December 2024 to immerse the audience into the Christmas spirit!
Founded in 1984 by choreographer and dancer Angelin Prejlocaj, the company became the Centre Chorégraphique of the PACA region in 1996 and then took over the Pavillon Noir in Aix-en-Provence in 2006, turning it into a venue dedicated to dance. Ballet Prejlocaj is now internationally renowned, with over 120 performances a year and 30 permanent dancers. The choreographer is known for his numerous narrative ballets such as Snow White or Romeo and Juliet. In 2020, he addressed a masterpiece of the classical repertoire: Swan Lake. He presents a contemporary version that tackles current issues. The challenge of revisiting a work is always finding the right balance between the choreographer’s reinterpretation of the work and honouring the original piece by preserving its key elements. Angelin Prejlocaj himself says, “Perhaps the best tribute to Marius Petipa is to enter his creative process, to reinvent things.” By distancing himself from classical codes, he reinvents this iconic work through contemporary dance, allowing the classical and contemporary worlds to intertwine. The show will be on tour at the end of December and beginning of January!
The success of these performances lies in the dialogue between different dance styles, which both challenge certain codes and bring modernity while staying true to the essence of each style. The very concept of style needs to be redefined, as there are as many styles of dance as there are dancers, each with their own vision of dance. Categorizing each dance style according to specific criteria deprives us of the opportunity for different universes to meet, which is, after all, the primary goal of culture. It is often when styles and cultures intertwine that we witness a unique creation.
L’art de décloisonner les styles et repenser la danse – Les spectacles à voir
La danse est souvent perçue comme un art divisé en plusieurs styles ayant chacun leurs particularités : une attitude, une technique, une tenue, une musique, etc. Chaque style est un univers avec ses propres codes. Par exemple, le classique est vu comme la discipline de référence en termes de rigueur et de technique ; le contemporain est perçu comme un style plus déstructuré, fondé sur le ressenti et l’émotion du danseur ; le hip-hop est dynamique avec des accents marqués et des isolations du corps. On enferme souvent chaque style de danse dans une catégorie et nous avons ainsi des attentes bien spécifiques. Or, la réalité est bien différente de cette approche théorique et cloisonnée de la danse. Chaque danseur développe son propre style et les spectacles que je vous présente ci-dessous illustrent ce décloisonnement des styles pour nous amener à repenser la danse.
Stories – RB Dance Company
Le premier spectacle que je souhaitais mettre en lumière s’intitule Stories et est réalisé par la RB Dance Company, une troupe de danse fondée en 2018 et révélée dans l’émission La France a un incroyable talent. Il s’agit d’un spectacle de claquette urbaine, dirigé par le talentueux Romain Rachline Bourgeaud qui nous offre une mise en scène moderne et ambitieuse à l’image des plus grands spectacles de Broadway. Les claquettes ont longtemps été un style « ringardisé », mais ce spectacle qui a déplacé plus de 100 000 spectateurs en France et à l’international renouvelle le style en proposant une nouvelle approche. Le chorégraphe explique sa volonté de créer un mélange entre le mouvement et le son des claquettes utilisées comme un instrument de musique pour accentuer les temps forts. On retient de ce spectacle la précision et l’énergie communicative des danseurs qui font raisonner la scène sous leurs pieds. Cette proposition moderne remet les claquettes au goût du jour et fait tomber les barrières des styles en mélangeant du jazz urbain, des claquettes et des percussions. La compagnie effectue sa dernière tournée en 2024-2025 donc n’hésitez pas à aller y jeter un œil !
Le deuxième spectacle illustre aussi le décloisonnement des styles, mais de manière différente en proposant au public de redécouvrir une œuvre classique à travers un autre style. Il s’agit du ballet Casse-Noisette revisité par la danseuse et chorégraphe espagnole Blanca Li, présidente de la Grande Halle de la Villette depuis quelques mois. Elle propose au public de redécouvrir le célèbre conte de Casse-Noisette en version hip-hop. Il s’agit d’un véritable défi afin de moderniser ce chef-d’œuvre sans le dénaturer. Elle se réapproprie l’histoire de Casse-Noisette en retravaillant la célèbre partition de Tchaïkovski pour offrir une œuvre moderne et urbaine. La chorégraphe s’accompagne de huit danseurs avec des influences variées, mais qui se complètent. Blanca Li plonge les spectateurs dans l’esprit de Noël avec un spectacle unique et ambitieux !
Fondée en 1984 par le chorégraphe et danseur Angelin Prejlocaj, la compagnie devient Centre chorégraphique de la région PACA en 1996 puis investit le Pavillon Noir à Aix-en-Provence en 2006 pour en faire un véritable lieu dédié à la danse. Le Ballet Prejlocaj connait désormais une renommée internationale avec plus de 120 représentations par an et compte 30 danseurs permanents. Le chorégraphe est connu pour ses nombreux ballets narratifs tels que Blanche-Neige ou Roméo et Juliette. En 2020, le chorégraphe s’attaque à un chef-d’œuvre du répertoire classique : Le Lac des Cygnes. Il en propose une version contemporaine qui s’adresse aux enjeux actuels. La difficulté de revisiter une œuvre est toujours de trouver le bon équilibre entre à la fois l’appropriation de l’œuvre par le chorégraphe pour en faire son œuvre et rendre hommage à l’œuvre originale en gardant les éléments caractéristiques. Angelin Prejlocaj le dit lui-même « C’est peut-être le meilleur hommage à rendre à Marius Petipa que d’entrer dans son processus créatif, de réinventer les choses ». En s’affranchissant des codes classiques, il réinvente cette œuvre incontournable par la danse contemporaine et permet ainsi à deux univers, le classique et le contemporain, de s’entremêler.
Ce qui fait la réussite de ces spectacles, ce sont les dialogues entre plusieurs styles de danses qui viennent à la fois bousculer certains codes, apporter de la modernité tout en restant fidèle à l’essence de chaque style. Le concept même de style est à redéfinir, car il existe autant de styles de danse que de danseurs, car chacun a sa propre vision de la danse. Vouloir enfermer chaque style de danse selon certains critères nous prive de la rencontre entre différents univers qui sont pourtant l’objectif premier de la culture. C’est souvent lorsque les styles et les cultures s’entremêlent qu’on assiste à la création d’une œuvre unique.
This opinion piece was inspired by Internet trends and my own thoughts on what it is like to enjoy cinema in a perpetually judgmental world. In it, I consider the different contexts in which art can be perceived. Does art change people or do people change art?
It has become commonplace to hear cinephiles being described as a group of pretentious and arrogant people who only enjoy obscure, foreign auteur films. This recent phenomenon is in full effect due to Internet trends, but also larger social and artistic shifts which are changing the industry and the art’s landscape. I see myself as a cinephile (check out my Letterboxd) even though many of my favorite pictures are very accessible and recent American movies (La La Land, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Superbad, The Matrix to name a few).
Along my journey as a cinephile, I often ask myself “Which movie should I watch today?” but what I’m really wondering is “Will I enjoy this film?”, “Is this film considered good?” or even “What will my peers and other people think if I watch this film?”. As I reflect over these questions, I also think on the aforementioned “cinephile” debate.
What is a cinephile?
A cinephile is not necessarily someone who has watched every Kurosawa or Kubrick movie. Nor do they possess encyclopaedic knowledge on the industry since the pre-war era. A cinephile can be very simply defined as someone who enjoys watching movies a lot and who has a desire to discover more.
When people enjoy an art, or have a passion in general, they tend to start exploring said field. No matter how far and wide someone has explored, regardless of their experience or expertise, once they are on this journey of discovery, they are a lover of the art. Many, especially online (including me), are still at the beginning of this journey. People will tend to compare themselves to others who’ve done more and seen more. I have at times had this feeling that I had not explored enough, or that I should’ve watched this movie at that moment instead of seeing Cars again.
It is in our nature as a society to judge and feel judged. This leads, inevitably, to the existence of social status: wanting to be considered ahead of the curve, whatever that means. No matter what, people will criticize your tastes. My favorite film could be Twilight, Interstellar or The Godfather, there will always be a group of people ready to tell me my choices are bad for x or y reason. Yes, many cinephiles consider that they are socially and intellectually superior simply because they enjoy more “sophisticated” art.
These egocentric and superficial (and insecure) people have given a bad reputation to their peers and art enjoyers in general. Elitists create a feeling within the general population that enjoying mainstream, fun, relatable movies is bad or for the dim-witted. Shunning someone for enjoying movies risks stunting their motivation to explore and start their own journey into cinema, though perhaps this kind of gatekeeping is subconsciously intentional.
Auteur cinema and mainstream cinema
There has however been a very real shift within the past 25 years within cinema and blockbuster culture. This shift is perfectly illustrated when detractors of aforementioned elitists are asked to cite movies which they consider too high brow: most mention American classics such as Taxi Driver, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Jaws or other pre-1980 movies. While yes, these films do have a distinct art direction and an authentic auteur feel, they were the most watched movies at their release, marketed and seen as mainstream, normal content by moviegoers at the time.
This is, in my opinion, one of the biggest issues with the film industry nowadays. The blockbusters, films meant to drive the most traffic to theaters are no longer films created by auteurs. Don’t get me wrong, they are still fun. They just lack a distinct identity. Pictures made by auteurs are still very much a thing and can be found easily by those who want to. My impression however is that there is now a disconnect between mainstream movies and more artistic ones, thus warping the public’s perception of cinema, both past and present. What was once seen as normal is now perceived as foreign and what was once seen as foreign is now flat out incomprehensible.
This is a larger symptom of the way media in general has been treated since the 1980s, increasingly focusing on creating viewership, maximizing profit regardless of the content produced. Director Peter Watkins details this degradation in content quality among leading media around the world in his book Media Crisis (2007) which I highly recommend.
Most forms of current day media require little to no critical thinking on the consumer’s part, aiming to drown them in fast-paced, colorful and harmless images. In that sense, the cinephile’s journey is made more difficult. Being fed low effort movies is satisfying, but it has become that much more difficult to want to diversify and discover new and different art.
On the other hand, thanks to the Internet, finding said art has been made infinitely easier to the delight of all those who keep marching forward on their journey. Streaming platforms (Netflix, Disney+, etc.), YouTube, the Internet Archive are all hubs to learn about and consume art we would’ve otherwise never encountered. Even illegal streaming websites offer a surprisingly large database of films (I DO NOT condone streaming films illegally as it is vital for the industry to consume films the intended way. I ALSO DO NOT recommend visiting websites such as https://gomovies.sx/ or https://hurawatch.art/ for their wide variety of content including subtitles in 20+ languages).
Regardless of what you watch, where you watch it and how you enjoy it, it is your curiosity and love for the art form that defines you as a cinephile. While I think the entire debate mentioned in the introduction is often blown out of proportion and caricatural, it has at least helped me reflect on myself as a cinephile, and on the state of cinema as we know it today. Also no, my favorite movie isn’t Hungarian, old or 290 minutes long. It’s 2011 Oscar-for-best-animated-feature-winner Rango, you should check it out!
I wanted to write this article primarily to talk about Martin McDonagh, one of my favourite directors, whose talent, in my opinion, is not fully appreciated. He is a British Irish director, born to Irish parents but having spent part of his youth in England, where he began his career as a theatre director. In 2006, he transitioned to filmmaking by directing a short film titled Six Shooters, the only work in his filmography I have yet to see. While McDonagh strives to showcase Irish art around the world, notably by frequently casting his two favourite actors, Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell, both Irish, it was by working in the United States that he achieved his greatest success with Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.
Thus, I found it interesting to reflect on McDonagh’s nature and style. Should we categorize him as a director in the pure British style, or is he more inspired and influenced by American cinema?
His link with American cinema
First of all, when we think of American cinema, we inevitably think of Hollywood super productions, even though that is only one part of the whole. American cinema is one of the most influential in the world, especially due to the power of its blockbusters. It covers a wide range of genres, from action films to romantic comedies, thrillers, and dramas. Since the early 20th century, it has shaped global popular culture, producing cinematic icons and legendary directors. American cinema also reflects the history and values of American society, often addressing themes related to the American Dream, individual freedom, and social justice.
To me, McDonagh fits somewhat into this tradition, especially with his second feature film, Seven Psychopaths. Indeed, this film is set in California, with the main character being a screenwriter suffering from writer’s block. Furthermore, the film features a star-studded cast with big names in American cinema like Woody Harrelson, Sam Rockwell, and Christopher Walken. The last part of the movie takes place in the Californian desert, in a Western-like atmosphere typical of American cinema.
As for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, his third feature and my personal favourite, we again find Sam Rockwell and Woody Harrelson alongside Frances McDormand and Peter Dinklage, other prominent American cinema figures. The film was entirely shot in the United States, specifically in North Carolina. The themes tackled are typical of American cinema, such as racism, justice and the role of the police, and life in small-town America. I find that the violence present in this film, as well as in Seven Psychopaths, is characteristic of American films, particularly in the way it is filmed—choreographed and stylized.
Why he remains a British artist
However, like any Irishman, Martin McDonagh is very proud of his roots, and both his first and latest films, In Bruges and The Banshees of Inisherin, lean more towards the style of British cinema. British cinema is often subtler and more realistic than its American counterpart. It is known for sophisticated comedies, social dramas, as well as historical and period films. British productions often emphasize character development and dialogue, with a touch of dark humour. The UK has given rise to influential directors like Alfred Hitchcock and David Lean, as well as world-renowned actors. Its cinema frequently explores issues of social class, tradition, and national identity.
Both films mentioned above feature the Irish duo of Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell. In In Bruges, as the title suggests, the plot takes place in the Belgian city, though it focuses on two London hitmen hiding out in Bruges. I find that this is one of the characteristics of British cinema, and European cinema more broadly, to mix languages and set the action in different corners of the continent. For The Banshees of Inisherin, McDonagh returned to his native country, shooting on the Irish islands of Inis Mór and Achill. In both films, McDonagh makes it a point to showcase sophisticated dialogue and nuanced, ambiguous characters, encouraging the audience to reflect. The perfectly calculated dose of dark humour in these two films also places them firmly within the vein of British cinema.
Why I think he is a great talent in the making
Thus, looking at the director’s filmography, it is clear that he is difficult to classify. But to me, that is exactly what makes great filmmakers. They are the ones who can seamlessly juggle between genres and showcase their talent regardless of the circumstances. For example, in Three Billboards, McDonagh applies complex characters, subtle dialogues, and English-style dark humour to a U.S.-based storyline. Like the great directors of the world, he has his favourite actors, whom he transports through time and place, whether in the U.S. or Europe.
To conclude, the goal of this article was primarily to share my impressions and opinion about this director, who is, in my view, still not well-known enough. I encourage you to start by watching Three Billboards, which I believe is his most accessible film, but also the most moving.
Tristan Tassel
Martin McDonagh: Un réalisateur typiquement british ou un américain déguisé?
Martin McDonagh: qui est-il ?
Je voulais écrire cet article avant tout pour parler de Martin McDonagh, qui est un de mes réalisateurs préférés, et dont le talent n’est pas reconnu à sa juste valeur selon moi. C’est un réalisateur britanno-irlandais, né de parents irlandais, mais ayant vécu une partie de sa jeunesse en Angleterre, où il a commencé sa carrière en tant que metteur en scène au théâtre. C’est en 2006 qu’il commence sa carrière derrière la caméra en réalisant un court métrage intitulé Six shooters, seule œuvre de sa filmographie que je n’ai pas encore vu à ce jour. Si McDonagh s’évertue à faire rayonner l’art irlandais à travers le monde en faisant notamment jouer ses deux acteurs fétiches, Brendan Gleeson et Colin Farrell, tous deux irlandais, dans la plupart de ses projets, c’est bien en tournant aux Etats-Unis qu’il a connu son plus grand succès avec Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.
Dès lors, je trouvais intéressant de m’interroger sur la nature et le style de Martin McDonagh. Devons-nous le catégoriser comme étant un metteur en scène dans le pur style britannique ou est-il plutôt inspiré et influencé par le cinéma américain ?
Son lien avec le cinéma américain
Tout d’abord, quand on parle du cinéma américain, on pense évidemment aux superproductions hollywoodiennes, même si cela ne représente évidement qu’une partie d’un tout. Le cinéma américain est l’un des plus influents du monde, notamment grâce à la force de ses blockbusters. Il couvre une large gamme de genres, allant des films d’action aux comédies romantiques, en passant par les thrillers et les drames. Depuis le début du XXe siècle, il a façonné la culture populaire mondiale, produisant des icônes du cinéma et des réalisateurs légendaires. Le cinéma américain est également un reflet de l’histoire et des valeurs de la société américaine, abordant souvent des thèmes liés au rêve américain, à la liberté individuelle, et à la justice sociale.
Pour moi, McDonagh s’inscrit en quelque sorte dans ce cinéma notamment avec son deuxième long-métrage : Seven Psychopaths. En effet, celui-ci se déroule en Californie, le personnage principal étant un scénariste en manque d’inspiration. De plus, le film bénéficie d’un casting de luxe avec des grands noms du cinéma américain tels que Woody Harrelson, Sam Rockwell ou encore Christopher Walken. La dernière partie du film se déroule dans le désert californien et dans une ambiance de western « à l’américaine ».
Concernant Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, son troisième long-métrage et mon film préféré de sa filmographie, on y retrouve Sam Rockwell et Woody Harrelson aux côtés de Frances McDormand et de Peter Dinklage, d’autres grands noms du cinéma américain. Le film a été tourné entièrement aux Etats-Unis et plus précisément en Caroline du Nord. Les thèmes abordés sont typiques du cinéma américain à savoir le racisme, la justice et le rôle de la police, la vie dans les villages perdus des Etats-Unis… Je trouve que la violence présente dans ce film ainsi que celle dans Seven Psychopaths est caractéristique des films américains, surtout dans la manière dont elle est filmée, à savoir chorégraphiée et stylisée.
Pourquoi il reste un artiste britannique
Mais, Martin McDonagh reste, comme tout irlandais, très fier de ses racines et son premier et son dernier film, In Bruges et The Banshees of Inisherin, s’inscrivent plus dans le style du cinéma britannique. Ce dernier se distingue par son style souvent plus subtil et réaliste que celui de son homologue américain. Il est connu pour ses comédies sophistiquées, ses drames sociaux, ainsi que ses films historiques et d’époque. Les productions britanniques mettent souvent l’accent sur le développement des personnages et les dialogues, avec une touche d’humour noir. Elles ont donné naissance à des réalisateurs influents comme Alfred Hitchcock et David Lean, ainsi qu’à des acteurs de renommée mondiale. Le cinéma britannique explore fréquemment des questions de classe sociale, de tradition et d’identité nationale.
Les deux films cités plus haut ont en commun de mettre en scène le duo d’acteurs irlandais composé de Brendan Gleeson et de Colin Farrell. Dans In Bruges, comme le titre l’indique, la trame se déroule au sein de la ville belge. Mais ce sont des tueurs en série londoniens s’étant exilés à Bruges qui sont mis en scène. Je trouve d’ailleurs que c’est l’une des caractéristiques du cinéma britannique et du cinéma européen plus généralement que de mélanger les langues et de situer l’action dans différents coins du continent.
Pour The Banshees of Inisherin, le réalisateur est retourné dans son pays natal en tournant sur l’île irlandaise d’Inis Mór ainsi que sur l’île d’Achill. Dans les deux films, Martin McDonagh met un point d’honneur à montrer des dialogues sophistiqués et des personnages nuancés et ambigus, amenant le spectateur à réfléchir. La dose d’humour noir dans ces deux films est aussi parfaitement calculée, les inscrivant dans la pure veine du cinéma britannique.
Pourquoi je pense que c’est un grand en devenir
Ainsi, on voit dans la filmographie du réalisateur qu’il est difficile de le ranger dans une case. Mais pour moi c’est justement ce qui fait les grands cinéastes. Ce sont ceux qui peuvent jongler entre les genres et qui font profiter de leur talent peu importe les circonstances. Par exemple, dans Three Billboards, McDonagh applique à un scénario se déroulant aux Etats-Unis des personnages complexes, des dialogues subtils et un humour noir à l’anglaise. A la manière des grands réalisateurs de ce monde, il a ses acteurs favoris qu’il balade à travers les époques et les lieux, que ça soit aux Etats-Unis ou en Europe.
Pour conclure, le but de cet article était surtout de vous partager mes impressions et mon opinion concernant le cinéma de ce réalisateur, pas encore assez connu à mon goût. Je vous invite à commencer par regarder Three Billboards, qui est son film le plus accessible selon moi et aussi le plus touchant.
Manas, a Brazilian movie about the taboo of incest in the heart of the Amazonian forests, won the Audience Award at the Festival des 3 continents.
Friday evening saw the closing ceremony of the Festival des 3 continents, the famous film festival in Nantes that has been celebrating the brightest films from Africa, Asia and South America every November for 46 years. The evening ended with the unveiling of the awards, crowning Brazilian director Marianna Brennand’s film Manas with the Audience Award.
Manas follows the story of a thirteen-year-old Brazilian girl, Tielle, who lives on the banks of the Tajapuru river in Pará, near the island of Marajó in northern Brazil. Far from the modern comforts we know, Tielle grows up in a large family and divides her time between school, swimming and walking, hunting in the forest with her father, and her first discoveries as a teenager. Although her life seems happy and pleasant, Tielle has a strong desire to escape from the island she has always known, to discover the world and other people – she is fascinated, for example, by the fact that some people wear coats in winter, even though she has only known the hot, humid climate of the Amazon – and aspires to a destiny different from that of the women around her, guided perhaps by that of her older sister, Claudia, in whose absence she grew up, having left at the age of 19 with a man.
In addition to this desire to escape, Tielle gradually feels the weight of a system that imprisons and silences the women of her community: the incest of which they are victims. Through Marianna Brennand’s subtle art of evocation, and scenes that only suggest without ever showing anything, we understand that Tielle is abused by her father. The bathing moments film him in a very jerky way, swirling around his daughter in a way that is too disturbing not to feel uneasy, with a breath that is omnipresent in all the scenes, a breath that almost sounds like a rattle, suggesting incest and the relationship that he imposes on his daughter during the hunting trips in the forest.
What is striking, but far from surprising, is the solitude in which Tielle seems to be inmured in the face of this situation, as if forced into silence by an immense vice, that of the generations of women who preceded her and who established an injunction to remain silent. To say nothing because the man is the breadwinner of the family, and because so many other girls in the village are subjected to incest. This is the attitude Tielle comes up against when she confides in the women around her, particularly in a deeply moving scene where, in a moment of extreme courage, she tries to confide in her mother, imploring her with a look of despair and silently crying out for help. The latter, whom we would like to believe is impassive, tells her to keep quiet and explains that certain things will never change, as she was also the victim of incest by her father, and has found a saviour in her husband. For fear of breaking up her family, she keeps silent and endures a little more, without protecting her daughter.
But the director’s eye does not pass judgement on her characters. Filmed like a documentary, with very long shots and sounds that take us deep into the Amazon, Manas lets us see the life of this young girl without any voyeurism, placing us as helpless spectators in the face of what is presented in the film as inexorable. The unspoken theme of incest, which silences young girls and women, is also unspoken in the film. No sexual scenes are shown, everything is suggested: a man getting dressed, a scene in which Tielle and her father repair a rifle, then go hunting, punctuated by the father’s increasingly rapid, jerky breathing… Marianna Brennand’s decision not to show us anything but to offer us all the keys to understanding the situation mirrors what is happening in Pará: nothing is said explicitly, but everything is known.
Through her cinematography, the director shows us a society of women, where men are almost absent and only occupy a secondary position: Tielle interacts with her mother, her sisters, her teacher, her friends, the shop assistant… but her brother and the other men are dissolved from the film, reduced to shadows. And finally, the few male characters who are portrayed are monsters of extreme cruelty: Tielle’s father who abuses her, the man on the barge who brings thirteen-year-old girls into his hut… In this society, there is an extreme dichotomy between men and women, and therein lies the paradox: these powerful, vibrant women, brave because they’ve all put up with so much, still seem to depend in the end, inexorably, on the goodwill of a man to emancipate and liberate them.
Because she has broken the rope on her hammock and is now sleeping with her abusive father, Tielle climbs onto the barge and accepts paid sex in order to earn a few pennies and buy back the rope. She seems to go from devil to deep blue sea, and we understand that it’s a vicious circle that traps young girls and leaves them with little escape. The same patterns are repeated from generation to generation, and the only way out is through men: Tielle’s mother reminds her at the start of the film that if she wants to leave, she has to please a rich man who can take her away from here.
Manas takes us on a journey to the heart of Amazonia, to the heart of a community that is far removed from what we know, but whose customs are as relevant today as they are to our societies. Through the story of Tielle, who loses herself between discoveries, desires to escape and the weight of the control held over women, Marianna Brennand paints a touching and accurate portrait of this young teenager, ready to go against the destiny that has been laid out for her.
Éléonore Sultan-Laguerre
Manas, de Marianna Brennand
Manas, un film brésilien sur le tabou de l’inceste au cœur des forêts amazoniennes, a reçu le Prix du Public au Festival des 3 continents.
Vendredi soir se tenait la cérémonie de clôture du Festival des 3 continents, célèbre festival cinématographique nantais qui célèbre depuis 46 ans, au mois de novembre, les films les plus lumineux d’Afrique, d’Asie et d’Amérique du Sud. La soirée s’est achevée par le dévoilement du palmarès, couronnant le film Manas de la réalisatrice brésilienne Marianna Brennand, du Prix du Public.
Manas suit l’histoire d’une jeune brésilienne de treize ans, Tielle, qui habite sur les rives du fleuve Tajapuru dans le Pará, près de l’île de Marajó au nord du Brésil. Loin du confort moderne que nous connaissons, Tielle grandit au sein d’une famille nombreuse et partage son temps entre l’école, les baignades et balades, les sorties en forêt avec son père pour chasser, et ses premières découvertes d’adolescente. Si sa vie semble joyeuse et plaisante, Tielle nourrit le désir de s’échapper de cette île qu’elle a toujours connue, de découvrir le monde et les autres – elle est par exemple fascinée par le fait que certains portent des manteaux l’hiver, elle qui n’a connu que le climat chaud et humide de l’Amazonie – et aspire à un destin différent de celui des femmes qui l’entourent, guidée peut-être par celui de sa grande sœur, Claudia, dans l’absence de qui elle grandit, partie à 19 ans avec un homme.
En sus de ce désir d’évasion, Tielle ressent peu à peu le poids d’un système qui enferme et condamne les femmes de sa communauté au silence : l’inceste dont elles sont victimes. Par l’art subtil de l’évocation que maîtrise à merveille Marianna Brennand, et des scènes qui ne font que suggérer sans jamais ne rien montrer, on comprend que Tielle est abusée par son père. Les moments de baignade le filment de façon très saccadée, tourbillonnant autour de sa fille d’une manière trop dérangeante pour ne pas y ressentir un malaise, avec un souffle omniprésent dans toutes les scènes, un souffle comme presqu’un râle qui suggère l’inceste et les rapports qu’il impose à sa fille lors des parties de chasse dans la forêt.
Ce qui est frappant, mais loin d’être étonnant, est la solitude dans laquelle semble être murée Tielle face à cette situation, comme contrainte au silence par un étau immense, celui des générations de femmes qui l’ont précédée et qui ont instauré une injonction à se taire. A ne rien dire parce que l’homme est celui qui fait vivre la famille, et parce que beaucoup d’autres filles du village subissent l’inceste. C’est le discours auquel se heurte Tielle lorsqu’elle se confie aux femmes qui l’entourent, notamment dans une scène bouleversante où, dans un moment de courage extrême elle essaie de se confier à sa mère, l’implorant d’un regard de désespoir et criant à l’aide en silence. Cette dernière, qu’on pourrait et voudrait croire impassible, lui enjoint de se taire et lui explique que certaines choses ne changeront jamais, elle qui a été aussi victime d’inceste par son père, et qui a trouvé en son mari un sauveur. Par peur de briser sa famille, elle se tait et se courbe un peu plus, sans protéger sa fille.
Mais le regard de la réalisatrice ne porte pas de jugement sur ses personnages. Filmé comme un documentaire avec des plans très longs et des bruits qui nous emmènent en pleine Amazonie, Manas nous donne à voir la vie de cette jeune fille sans voyeurisme aucun, nous plaçant comme spectateurs impuissants face à ce qui est présenté dans le film comme inexorable. Ce non-dit de l’inceste qui réduit les jeunes filles et les femmes au silence est aussi un non-dit dans le film. Aucune scène sexuelle n’est montrée, tout est suggéré : un homme qui se rhabille, une scène où Tielle et son père réparent un fusil, puis chassent, rythmée par les respirations saccadées et de plus en plus rapides du père…Ce parti pris que prend Marianna Brennand en ne nous montrant rien mais en nous offrant toutes les clés de lecture, est le miroir de ce qu’il se passe dans le Pará : rien n’est dit explicitement, mais tout se sait.
Par sa manière de filmer, la réalisatrice nous montre une société de femmes, où les hommes sont presque absents et n’occupent qu’un second plan : Tielle interagit avec sa mère, ses sœurs, sa professeure, ses amies, la vendeuse de la boutique…mais son frère et les autres hommes sont comme dissous du film, réduits à des ombres. Et finalement, les rares personnages masculins qui sont incarnés représentent des monstres de cruauté extrême : le père de Tielle qui abuse d’elle, l’homme de la barge qui fait venir dans sa cabine des fillettes de treize ans … Dans cette société, il y a une dichotomie extrême entre les hommes et les femmes, et c’est là que réside le paradoxe : ces femmes puissantes, vivantes, courageuses parce qu’elles ont toutes encaissé beaucoup, semblent tout de même dépendre à la fin, inexorablement, du bon vouloir d’un homme pour s’émanciper et se libérer.
C’est parce qu’elle a cassé la corde de son hamac et qu’elle dort désormais avec son père qui abuse d’elle, que Tielle monte sur la barge et accepte des rapports tarifés pour gagner quelques sous et se racheter de la corde. Elle semble passer de la peste au choléra et on comprend que c’est un cercle vicieux qui enferme les jeunes filles et laisse peu d’échappatoire. Car les mêmes schémas se répètent de générations en générations, et la seule porte de sortie est incarnée par les hommes : la mère de Tielle lui rappelle dès le début du film que pour s’en aller, il faudrait qu’elle plaise à un homme riche qui pourrait l’emmener loin d’ici.
Ainsi, Manas nous emporte le temps d’un film au cœur de l’Amazonie, au sein d’une communauté éloignée de nos repères mais aux mœurs brûlantes d’actualité, qui rejoignent nos sociétés. A travers l’histoire de Tielle, qui se perd entre découvertes, désirs d’évasion et poids de l’emprise sur les femmes, Marianna Brennand brosse un portrait touchant et juste de cette jeune adolescente, prête à aller à rebours du destin qui lui est tracé.
Fujii Kaze is a Japanese singer-songwriter who has often been hailed as the next Utada Hikaru. He began learning the piano at the age of three, influenced by his father. Over time, Fujii Kaze developed a distinctive style of pop music that blends both Eastern and Western influences. His talents extend beyond just songwriting—he excels in singing, playing instruments, and creating memorable melodies. He is also versatile in writing lyrics, composing in both English and various Japanese dialects, showcasing his diverse musical prowess.
On the surface, Fujii Kaze looks like a typical Japanese city boy, but in private, he is understated and naturally handsome. He has confessed to being socially anxious, yet on social media, he presents himself as a quirky and humorous artist, often interacting with his fans in an unpolished, carefree manner.
Since his secondary school days, Fujii Kaze has been recording and uploading cover songs from his home. These covers, which overlap with many of the songs on my personal playlist, are a testament to his inevitable rise in the music scene. Watching his unofficially recorded covers, I realized that his explosion was just a matter of time. His jazzy renditions, soulful vocals, impeccable rhythm control, piano skills, and joyful performances all showcase that he is a musician by nature.
Kaze’s music doesn’t revolve around traditional themes of love. Instead, he explores universal topics, touching on the broader spectrum of life’s experiences. There’s a certain contrast in his work – while he often expresses boredom or despondency, he uses negative emotions as a way to highlight positivity. Both his music and his personality exude a beautiful state of mind that resonates deeply with his listeners.
In 2021, Fujii Kaze performed two songs at the Japanese Spring Festival, breaking the tradition where debut artists are only allowed to sing one song. He appeared as casually as if he were at home, dressed in pajamas and slippers, with his hair slightly messy, reflecting his laid-back personality.
Fujii Kaze has stated that he wants his music to be catchy and relatable while incorporating elements of black music, which he admires.
死ぬのがいいわ
« Shinunoga E-Wa » (I’d Rather Die) is one of my favorite songs, and it has sold remarkably well worldwide. The song’s popularity has even surpassed that of renowned Japanese artists such as ONE OK ROCK, Yonezu Kenshi, Utada Hikaru, and Hoshino Gen. In Japan, it is currently the number one song. Fujii Kaze himself has described it as a rare and crazy song. The lyrics and melody have a distinct Showa-era flavor, yet the addition of a trap hip-hop beat makes it truly unique. This blend of old and new evokes deep emotions, especially resonating with younger audiences.
The phrase “死ぬのがいいわ” means “I’d rather die” in Japanese, traditionally expressing the deep sigh of a woman in emotional distress. The lyrics carry a sense of respect and vary in tone and gender, making it unusual for a man to perform such a song. Fujii Kaze has mentioned that growing up with his sisters made him feel less masculine, which is why he feels comfortable performing this song from a different emotional perspective. Although the song revolves around a crazy kind of love, its light and cheerful style provide a contrast that makes it both powerful and pleasant. Many fans use this song as a film soundtrack to express their love for their idols or favorite anime characters.
In a TV interview, Fujii Kaze revealed the song’s creative process: “I first came up with the melody, then wrote the lyrics to fit it.” This method allows the melody and lyrics to perfectly harmonize, which adds to the song’s emotional impact.
Friday, November 15, at the stroke of midnight, Damso’s new album drops. 34 minutes, 11 tracks. And because no one asked, I’m stepping in as a music critic just for you.
William Kalubi Mwamba, known as Damso, made a comeback this Friday with J’ai menti (I lied), a new album as intriguing as the circumstances surrounding its creation. After taking time off and traveling across the roads in a camper van, the Belgian artist has returned to music. But does this project, born from a much-needed moment of pause, captivate as much as his previous masterpieces?
An artist with a singular but well-established universe
For those in the back who haven’t been paying attention, Damso has nothing left to prove. Since his debut in 2014, he has established himself as one of the most influential artists in francophone rap. This is thanks to polished productions and a meticulously crafted artistic direction. Albums like Batterie faible, Ipséité, Lithopédion, and QALF have become benchmarks, blending incisive lyrics with undeniable musical mastery.
With J’ai menti, Damso stays true to himself. The album is rich with personal storytelling, existential reflections, and diverse yet fitting productions. Having now freed himself from the artistic framework he previously built for himself, the Belgian artist seems to be having fun, embracing new sounds and daring to experiment — a refreshing change.
A road trip to breathe, not to create
What sets this album apart is that it comes in the wake of a camper van road trip, during which Damso took a step back from the studio and the pressures of public expectation. As the artist himself explained, this road trip was not an artistic retreat but rather a way to rediscover himself and take a breather.
This approach, familiar to fans of francophone music (artists like Stromae and Colonel Reyel have taken similar paths), reflects a genuine need to disconnect in a world where artists are often pushed to meet the relentless demands of the music industry.
This moment of reflection seems to have brought Damso a sense of serenity, evident from the announcement of J’ai menti. Just two months earlier, he had stated that he was only working on his final project, BEYAH, set to release in 2025. The three-month whirlwind production of J’ai menti contrasts sharply with the perfectionism fans have come to expect from the singer-songwriter, adding an element of surprise to this release.
J’ai menti: between continuity and intimacy
The album itself swings between introspective tracks, a hallmark of Damso’s best work, and lighter songs that perhaps reflect his need for simplicity after this much-needed pause. The productions, always meticulously crafted, allow space for raw emotion and lyrics to shine through.
J’ai menti album cover
However, while the album has its shining moments, it lacks the striking brilliance of some of Damso’s previous works. The punchlines, for instance, feel less abundant, as if Damso opted for a more subdued, almost understated approach. This choice will appeal to fans who appreciate his introspective side but might leave those craving a bold and audacious rap album wanting more.
The collaborations, featuring artists like Angèle, Kalash Criminel, Kalash, and even his brother Michka, enrich the album without overwhelming it. Each guest brings their own flavor without overshadowing Damso, maintaining a cohesive overall tone.
For those looking to explore the album or discover Damso’s music for the first time, my recommendations would be Limbisa ngai (featuring Kalash Criminel), 24h plus tôt, and Conséquences. These three tracks, vastly different in style, showcase the artist’s desire to break free from a singular formula.
An album reflecting an assumed pause
J’ai menti is not an explosive or revolutionary album. It’s more akin to a musical diary, marked by simplicity and sincerity. After his camper van road trip, Damso seems to have embraced a pressure-free creative process, where the goal wasn’t to surpass his previous successes but to reconnect with his music.
This approach results in an album that will likely resonate most with those already attuned to his universe. For others, it may feel less groundbreaking but still offers a glimpse of an artist who’s unafraid to listen to himself and take pleasure in his craft.
Ultimately, J’ai menti reflects the pause from which it was born: serene, honest, and now ready to be embraced by listeners. A sincere musical interlude that underscores Damso’s commitment to staying true to himself, even if it means prioritizing enjoyment over perfection. As the rapper himself might put it: “Qui Aime Like Follow.”
Jules ROMERO
Damso : C’est si bon de prendre des vacances ?
Vendredi 15 novembre, minuit pile, le nouvel album de Damso sort. 34 minutes, 11 titres. Rien que pour vous et même si personne ne me l’a demandé, je m’improvise critique musical.
William Kalubi Mwamba, dit Damso, revient ce vendredi avec J’ai menti, un nouvel album qui intrigue, autant par son titre que par le contexte dans lequel il a vu le jour. Après avoir parcouru les routes à bord d’un camping-car pour faire une pause, l’artiste belge a décidé de reprendre le chemin de la musique. Mais ce projet, conçu après un moment de recul nécessaire, parvient-il à captiver autant que ses précédents chef d’œuvres ?
Un artiste à l’univers singulier, mais bien installé
Damso, pour ceux du fond qui ne suivent pas, n’a plus rien à prouver. Depuis ses débuts en 2014, il a su s’imposer comme l’un des artistes les plus influents du rap francophone grâce à des productions travaillées et une direction artistique millimétrée. Ses albums, Batterie faible, Ipséité, Lithopédion ou QALF, sont devenus des références, mêlant une plume incisive et une maîtrise musicale indéniable.
Avec J’ai menti, Damso reste fidèle à lui-même. On y retrouve son goût pour les récits personnels, teintés de réflexions existentielles, et les productions toutes différentes mais pertinentes. L’artiste belge, maintenant affranchi de la direction artistique qu’il s’était lui-même établie, décide de se faire plaisir, adoptant de nouvelles sonorités et se permettant d’essayer, et ça, ça fait du bien.
Un road trip pour respirer, pas pour produire
Ce qui rend cet album particulier, c’est qu’il a vu le jour après un voyage en camping-car, durant lequel Damso s’est accordé une pause loin des studios et des attentes du public. Comme l’artiste l’avait lui-même expliqué, ce road trip n’était pas une retraite artistique, mais une manière pour lui de se retrouver et de respirer. Une démarche qui n’est pas inconnue du public tant de nombreux artistes francophones ont déjà fait de même comme Stromae ou Colonel Reyel. Cela témoigne d’un besoin sincère de se déconnecter, dans un monde où les artistes sont souvent pressés par les cadences infernales de l’industrie musicale.
Ce recul semble avoir permis à Damso de retrouver une certaine sérénité, un élément qui transparaît dès l’annonce de son album J’ai menti alors qu’il avait annoncé 2 mois plus tôt ne travailler que sur son tout dernier opus BEYAH qui sortira en 2025. Une production éclair de 3 mois donnant naissance à cet album surprise et qui contraste avec le perfectionnisme dont le public avait l’habitude venant de l’auteur compositeur interprète.
« J’ai menti » : entre continuité et intimité
L’album, en lui-même, oscille entre des morceaux introspectifs, dans la veine de ce que Damso fait de mieux, et des titres plus légers qui traduisent peut-être son besoin de simplicité après cette pause nécessaire. Les productions, toujours soignées, laissent de la place aux textes et à l’émotion brute.
J’ai menti pochette d’album
Cependant, si l’album brille par moments, il manque de véritables fulgurances. Les punchlines semblent plus rares ici, comme si Damso avait choisi une approche plus discrète, presque timide. Ce choix pourra séduire ceux qui apprécient son côté introspectif, mais risque de laisser sur leur faim ceux qui attendaient un album audacieux de rap.
Les collaborations avec Angèle, Kalash Criminel, Kalash ou encore son frère Michka enrichissent l’album sans en bouleverser l’équilibre. Chaque invité apporte sa couleur, sans voler la vedette, contribuant à maintenir une cohérence dans l’ensemble.
Mes recommandations, si certains voulaient s’essayer à une découverte de l’album ou même de l’artiste, se pencheraient vers Limbisa ngai, la collaboration avec Kalash Criminel, 24h plus tôt et Conséquences, trois titres extrêmement différents dans l’album, qui démontrent cette volonté de ne pas se cantonner à une seule recette.
Un album à l’image d’une pause assumée
J’ai menti n’est pas un album explosif ou révolutionnaire. Il ressemble davantage à un journal intime musical, marqué par la simplicité et la sincérité. Après son road trip en camping-car, Damso semble avoir opté pour une création sans pression, où l’objectif n’était pas de surpasser ses précédents succès, mais de se reconnecter avec sa musique. Cette démarche donne un album qui séduira surtout les initiés de son univers.
Finalement, J’ai menti est un projet à l’image de la pause dont il est issu : apaisé et honnête, c’est maintenant au public de se l’approprier. Une parenthèse musicale sincère, qui montre que Damso est un artiste à l’écoute de lui-même qui souhaite maintenant se faire plaisir. « Qui Aime Like Follow » comme le dit le rappeur.
On Friday, November 17th, the release party for the “mini-tape” “InDaHouse” a 12-minute project. This collaborative project by rapper DnZl and beatmaker Chazzy Jazz featuring several rappers from Nantes is a good representation of the new underground rap scene in Nantes. On the agenda: concerts, freestyling sessions and an open mic for upcoming artists in Nantes.
InDaHouse release party
In the back of the Princess Abibiche Bar, a small stage is set up. Standing on it, rappers Dnzl, FKE, Baabz and Artiblock hold their mics and go back-to-back on the front of the stage. On successive beats, they go from precise lines to silly rhythms, rapping songs from their project that was released earlier that day and other exclusive ones. The front row is filled with their close ones, singing along to all the songs, even the ones that were not released yet. Soon enough the entire audience feels like a big friend’s group jumping and yelling the adlibs. Among the crowd, street artists, slam poets or even breakdancers all well-known on the underground hip-hop scene in the city…
As the concert went, they finished with their songs and started to freestyle. Wishing to interact with the audience, Dnzl asked us to throw objects at him, so he could use those words for his freestyle, and he incorporated the clothes, keys or even glasses the crowd was handing him in his text in an impressive way. During the break, we could hear him saying how much work this had been, the consecration of almost 15 years of rap and the connection of so many people with a strong passion for music.
The collective
Coming from the city of Nantes, the collective NantesCityRappin was created in March 2023, by Dnzl and his friends. The goal of this collective is to create and/or organize events to give a platform to upcoming artists trying to make it or even just to try new material in front of an audience. The members count several rappers such as Denzel himself, FKE, JazzManitu or Baabz, slam poetry artists like La Fine Fleur, and even beatmakers like Tanjay. As an association to promote rap, they welcome new members with each event. A sub-group of this association is NantesCityGraffin, made to promote street graffiti artists. This past year, they’ve organized or participated to at least one event each month, and this is working; the collective platform keeps on growing and each member individually gets to participate to various events which contributes to promoting the collective even more. Recently, member FKE released an EP with other artists from Nantes which led to an event in the D3 Club.
Open mics: from the streets to the stage
For me as an auditor, it all started in September. After having a drink in the Bar Askip, we stumbled upon an open mics session held in the honor of the artist La Fine Fleur’s birthday; it was a jam session between friends and everyone could join them. It all started with people, friends from Nantes all passionate about street art, rap and breakdance craving to meet their audience. The goal is to create a space for rap and hip-hop lovers to meet and to put Nantes’ rap scene on the map. At the end of the concert, the stage was open, whoever wanted to sing, rap or beatbox could raise their hand and take the mic.
In an almost family-like setting, everyone was acclaimed just for having the courage to go on the stage while the members of the collective were making adlibs in the back in the way some would during a cypher. This event was a success, as much for the bar owner who allowed us to stay an hour longer than we were supposed to, as for the artists who were truly acclaimed by the crowd.
In my opinion, this moment was the perfect way to represent how passion and collaborative work can create something even bigger than just a project. It is all about respecting and supporting each artist’s work.
(The mini-tape “InDaHouse” is available on every platform).
On May 18, 2024, actress and director Noémie Merlant’s second feature film, The Balconettes, premiered at the Cannes Film Festival. The film follows the story of three female best friends who become entangled in a macabre affair.
In attendance (among others) were Merlant herself, co-screenwriter Céline Sciamma, and Justine Triet. The film explores the liberation of women, with characters speaking freely and embracing their bodies. It’s a film about female solidarity and the personal journeys of three very different women. While it touches on trauma, it avoids melodrama. The film is a blend of various genres: gore, fantasy, romance… At its best, it’s incredibly funny. At its worst, it’s vulgar, but of a « healthy vulgarity », as Merlant puts it.
Sometimes, the film is caricatural and misses the mark. But that’s okay, because it marks a significant turning point in the construction of contemporary cinematic imagery and narratives.
Like Portrait of a Lady on Fire (by Céline Sciamma) and Happening (by Audrey Diwan), The Balconettes rewrites the codes of genre cinema and cinema in general. There are many of them: female directors, screenwriters, producers, and technicians. And they want to invent new aesthetics and new narratives.
At the Cannes Film Festival, Coralie Fargeat won the Best Screenplay Award for TheSubstance. In 2021, Julia Ducournau won the Palme d’Or for her (controversial) film Titane. These filmmakers are bringing to the forefront stories which have traditionally been overlooked by the male-dominated industry. They are imposing their own narratives and redefining the category of « masterpieces. » Whether consciously or unconsciously, they are all contributing to the new imaginaries created by the « female gaze. »
The Foundations of the « Male Gaze »
Why do we feel compelled to analyze films through the lens of gender? It’s a well-known fact that images shape our worldview: How do we connect with others? What is considered beautiful (socially and culturally)? How do we create our fantasies?
What are these fantasies? It’s also well-known (unless it’s a surprise) that most films are directed and produced by men. The CNC’s 2024 report on gender equality highlights that only 29% of films distributed in French cinemas in 2023 were directed by women (a total of 70 films). Female-centric stories are less interesting, less « bankable, » and when women tackle male-dominated subjects, they are held to higher standards.
What are the consequences of the absence of women behind and in front of the camera?
In her 1975 essay, « Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema », film critic Laura Mulvey developed and theorized the concept of the male gaze to explain how images shape viewers’ subjectivities. Mulvey’s central question is: what role does the cinematic experience play in constructing individuals as (gendered) subjects? Through her work, she demonstrates that viewers are captive to the ideologies of the films and the images they convey. At that time, women were absent from major productions, and very few were renowned as directors. Narratives were predominantly told by and for men. So, how can a woman tell her own story when there are no narratives born from her perspective? Identifying with male heroes has consequences and creates confusion.
Mulvey’s argument can be summarized as follows. First, through the concept of the male gaze, she highlights the asymmetry in the way men and women are filmed, both in terms of body and ideals. In cinema, women have always been objects and men have always been subjects.
But it’s not just a cinematic point of view. There are psychoanalytic foundations to this concept that are often overlooked in contemporary debates that appropriate the theory of the male gaze in their fight against the objectification of women.
Mulvey’s theory is heavily influenced by that of the psychiatrist Jacques Lacan, a theory that Mulvey reinterprets through a feminist lens. Based on Lacan’s writings on sensory experience and the mirror stage, she explains that the cinema screen is a mirror: it is a device for constructing the « self » as a surface of projection of an image similar to « mine. » However, this subjectification of the « self » is entirely mediated by the male gaze. Lacan said that the image of our body passes through the image we imagine in the other’s gaze. Here, a female spectator can only see herself as a woman through the woman projected on the screen, staged by a man.
Originally, Mulvey’s approach was focused on spectatorship, with psychoanalysis as the theoretical framework of reference. In contrast, today, the concept of the male gaze is used more as a tool for analyzing film representations.
The Alternative, the “Female Gaze”, redefines pleasure
By preserving the psychoanalytic and cinematic dimensions of the concept of the male gaze, how can we define the concept of the female gaze?
Here, the aim is to address male and female viewers on equal terms. The female gaze offers new imaginaries, new characters, and new definitions of femininity and masculinity. Female viewers can now envision themselves as women through the new forms of femininity projected on screens. And vice versa for male viewers.
However, while the male gaze is originally psychoanalytic, the female gaze is immensely a matter of staging. Everything is a question of narrative and the construction of aesthetics. The male gaze can generate interesting things (the series Now Apocalypse is one example among others), but historically, it has created a lot of confusion and misconceptions. The image-making orchestrated by the male gaze is quite codified. Women are filmed through a gaze which overlooks and/or dominates them: on a bed, from bottom to top, with their bodies never in motion… The concept is perfectly illustrated in the following scene: in Die Another Day, Halle Berry emerges from the water, in a vertical pan shot from bottom to top. What does this scene tell us about the female character? Not much of interest, except that she is confined to her sexuality by James Bond’s gaze.
To visualize the difference, in Jane Campion’s films, for example, the cameras are shoulder-mounted: bodies move, and the camera moves with them. Noémie Merlant’s feature film is a departure in this vein. The director reclaims bodies, never filming them in fixed or close-up shots. Women are active and take pleasure because they choose to. The final scene is particularly striking – detractors will say it’s implausible and therefore irrelevant. But it’s this implausibility that is intriguing: yes, this scene is purely fictional and has no place in reality. The real question is: why?
The female gaze does not impose the false idea that we should stop taking pleasure in objectification. It does not seek to eliminate, it seeks to reinvent. It invites us to realize that there are other ways to take pleasure and be free, and that is the experience that Noémie Merlant offers us in The Balconettes (in theaters on December 11th, 2024).
Cora STEIN
Le “female gaze” ou comment réapprendre à désirer
Le 18 mai 2024 était projeté en avant-première au Festival de Cannes, le second long-métrage de l’actrice et réalisatrice Noémie Merlant, Les Femmes au balcon. Le film relate l’aventure de trois femmes et meilleures amies emportées dans une affaire macabre. Dans la salle sont présentes, entre autres, Noémie Merlant, Céline Sciamma (co-scénariste du film) et Justine Triet.
Le film raconte la libération des femmes. Les langues se délient et les corps se relâchent. C’est un film sur la sororité et sur les trajectoires personnelles de trois femmes très différentes. On évoque les traumatismes mais on évite le drame. Le film est pluriel dans les genres qu’il essaie d’aborder : gore, fantastique, romantique… Au mieux, il est très drôle. Au pire, il est vulgaire -mais d’une “vulgarité saine” comme l’explique Noémie Merlant.
Parfois, le film est caricatural et se trompe. Ça n’est pas grave car, avant tout, il marque un vrai tournant dans la construction des imageries et des récits cinématographiques contemporains.
Comme Portrait de la Jeune Fille en Feu (de Céline Sciamma) ou L’Événement (de Audrey Diwan), Les Femmes au balcon réécrit les codes du cinéma de genre et du cinéma tout court. Elles sont nombreuses : réalisatrices, scénaristes, productrices et techniciennes du cinéma. Et elles veulent inventer de nouvelles esthétiques et de nouveaux narratifs.
Ce Festival de Cannes verra d’ailleurs Coralie Fargeat remporter le Prix du meilleur scénario pour The Substance. En 2021, c’est Julia Ducournau pour son (controversé) film Titane qui avait remporté la Palme d’or.
Toutes ces cinéastes mettent au goût du jour des récits qui, jusque-là, n’intéressaient que peu cette industrie masculine. Elles imposent leurs histoires et redéfinissent la catégorie des “chefs d’oeuvres”. Toutes, de manière revendiquée ou inconsciente, alimentent les nouveaux imaginaires créés par le “female gaze”, le regard féminin.
Aux fondements du “male gaze”
Pourquoi sommes-nous obligés de réfléchir aux films par le prisme du genre ? Il est banal de rappeler que les images ont des conséquences sur la construction de nos perspectives du monde : Comment créer du lien avec les autres ? Qu’est-ce qui est (socialement et culturellement) beau ? Comment crée-t-on nos fantasmes ? Quels sont ces fantasmes ? Etc…
Il est également banal de rappeler (à moins que ce soit une surprise) que la majorité des films que nous visionnons sont réalisés et produits par des hommes. Dans son rapport “Observatoire de l’égalité femmes-hommes » (mars 2024), le CNC met en lumière que seulement 29% des films distribués dans les salles de cinéma françaises en 2023 ont été réalisés par des femmes (soit 70 films). Les récits féminins intéressent moins, sont moins “bankable” et quand les femmes s’emparent de sujets d’homme, elles doivent être à la hauteur.
Quelles sont les conséquences de l’absence des femmes devant et derrière la caméra ? En 1975, dans son essai, « Plaisir visuel et cinéma narratif », la critique de cinéma Laura Mulvey développe et théorise son concept du regard masculin pour expliquer comment les images orientent la subjectivation des publics. La question intrinsèque à l’analyse de Mulvey est la suivante : Quel rôle joue l’expérience cinématographique dans la construction des individus en tant que sujets (genrés) ?
À travers ses travaux, elle démontre que les spectateurs sont captifs des idéologies des films et des images qu’ils véhiculent. Or, à cette époque, les femmes sont absentes des grosses productions et très peu sont celles qui ont de la renommée en tant que réalisatrices. Les récits sont majoritairement racontés par et pour les hommes. Dès lors, comment se raconter en tant que femme quand il n’existe pas de récits nés sous l’égide de nos points de vue ? S’identifier à des héros, ça a des conséquences et ça crée de la confusion.
Mais ce que Mulvey raconte peut être résumé de la façon suivante. D’abord, grâce au concept du regard masculin, elle souligne l’asymétrie qui existe dans la façon de filmer les hommes et les femmes ; en corps et en idéaux. Au cinéma, depuis toujours et de façon généralisée, la femme est objet et l’homme est sujet. Mais il ne s’agit pas seulement que d’un point de vue cinématographique. Il existe des fondements psychanalytiques à ce concept qui sont très souvent éludés des contestations contemporaines se réappropriant la théorie du regard masculin dans leurs combats contre les pratiques d’objectification des femmes.
La théorie de Mulvey est très influencée par celle du psychiatre Jacques Lacan ; théorie dont Mulvey se veut relectrice féministe. En partant des écrits de Lacan sur l’expérience sensorielle et le stade du miroir, elle explique que l’écran de cinéma est un miroir : il est un dispositif de construction du “moi” en tant que surface de projection d’une image semblable “à la mienne”. Or, cette subjectivation du “moi” est intégralement médiée par le regard masculin. Lacan disait que l’image de notre corps passe par celle que l’on imagine dans le regard de l’autre. Ici, une spectatrice ne se verra en tant que femme qu’à travers la femme projetée sur l’écran mise en scène par un homme.
À l’origine, Mulvey est donc dans une approche du spectatorat ; le cadre théorique de référence étant la psychanalyse. Au contraire, aujourd’hui le concept de “male gaze” sert plutôt d’outil d’analyse des représentations filmiques.
L’alternative, le female gaze : prendre du plaisir autrement
En conservant les dimensions psychanalytique et cinématographique du concept de “male gaze”, comment pourrait-on définir le concept de “female gaze” ; regard féminin ?
Il s’agit ici de s’adresser aux spectateurs et spectatrices sur un même pied d’égalité. Le regard féminin offre des nouveaux imaginaires, des nouveaux personnages, de nouvelles définitions de féminité et masculinité. Les spectatrices peuvent désormais s’imaginer en tant que femme à travers les nouvelles formes de féminités projetées sur les écrans. Et réciproquement pour les spectateurs.
Mais là où le regard masculin est originellement psychanalytique, le regard féminin est immensément une affaire de mise en scène. Tout est une question de narration et de construction des esthétiques. Le regard masculin peut générer des choses intéressantes (la série Now Apocalypse est un exemple parmi d’autres) mais au regard de l’histoire, il a créé aussi beaucoup de confusion et de fausses idées.
La fabrication des images orchestrée par le “male gaze” est assez codée. On filme les femmes avec un regard qui les surplombe et/ou les domine : sur un lit, de bas en haut, le corps jamais en mouvement… Le concept prend tout son sens dans la scène suivante : James Bond: Die Another Day, Halle Berry sort de l’eau, panoramique vertical du bas vers le haut. Résultat, que raconte la scène du personnage féminin ? Pas grand chose d’intéressant si ce n’est qu’elle est enfermée dans sa sexualité/sensualité par le regard de James Bond.
Pour visualiser la différence, dans les films de Jane Campion par exemple, les caméras sont des caméras épaules : les corps bougent, la caméra avec. C’est dans cette veine que le long-métrage de Noémie Merlant détonne. La réalisatrice se réapproprie les corps, ne les filme jamais en plans fixes ou en plans serrés. Les femmes sont actives et prennent du plaisir parce qu’elles le décident. La scène de fin est particulièrement surprenante – les détracteurs en diront qu’elle est invraisemblable et donc impertinente. Mais c’est cette invraisemblabilité qui interroge : oui cette scène est purement fictive et n’aurait pas sa place dans la réalité. La vraie question est : pourquoi ?
Le regard féminin ne postule pas la fausse idée suivante : arrêtons de prendre du plaisir en objectifiant. Le concept ne veut pas supprimer, il veut réinventer. Il invite à réaliser qu’il y a d’autres manières de prendre du plaisir et d’être libre et c’est l’expérience que Noémie Merlant nous propose dans Les Femmes au balcon (sortie en salle le 11 décembre 2024).
