Discovering charming little films like this one, and bringing them to viewer attention, is my favorite part of this job.
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| Having yet yet another hindrance to his idealistic goal of making the best possible Comté cheese, Totone (Clément Faveau) considers his options ... and younger sister Claire (Luna Garret) has faith that he'll work it out. |
(As a quick sidebar, her film’s original title — Vingt dieux — translates to Twenty Gods, not Holy Cow: a terrible substitution slapped on by the American distributor.)
The lush farmland setting of Jura, in the eastern French region of Bourgogne-Franche-Comté, is captured splendidly by cinematographer Elio Balezeaux; this has much to do with the film’s cinema-verité atmosphere. That said, Courvoisier and Balezeaux don’t exploit these countryside locales for their natural beauty; this is an environment of dirt, mud, sweat, hard work, earthy casual sex and often flinty relationships.
We sense that most of these folks don’t bathe very often.
Nor does the story — by Courvoisier, Théo Abadie and Marcia Romano — make it easy on us. Their main character is a thoroughly unlikeable waste of space who — unlike the artisan cheeses produced within this region — doesn’t improve with age and additional exposure ... at least, not for a very long time.
In fairness, 18-year-old Totone (newcomer Clément Faveau) never had a chance, having been raised by an alcoholic, hands-off father whose wife apparently fled long ago. We meet the deadbeat teenager during a typical late-night binge of booze, cigarettes and casual sex, accompanied by best friends Jean-Yves (Mathis Bernard) and Francis (Dimitry Baudry), who aren’t much better.
By day, the badly hungover Totone does nothing to help his father with the family’s struggling Pimorin Cheese Dairy. His sole display of responsibility is taking younger sister Claire (Luna Garret) to school each day, after which he joins Francis while they watch Jean-Yves work on his lovingly modified stock car.
This routine abruptly shatters when Totone’s father wrecks his car and dies, having gotten behind the wheel while hopelessly drunk. (We gasp at the stupidity of this, but apparently these folks don’t watch out for their own.) This isn’t a community with options such as social services; Totone has no income, the dairy collapses without his father’s guidance, and now the young man must care for Claire 24/7.
Sadly, his temperament isn’t up to the challenge. Totone is impatient, spiteful, quick to anger, reckless, self-pitying and a whole host of other unpleasant traits. Courvoisier draws a fine, credible performance from her fresh-faced star; even Totone’s fallback, squinty-eyed, petulant stare prompts dismay. Although he’s obviously fragile, we genuinely hate the guy.
Credit where due, he tries. He gets a menial job at a neighboring dairy, but — unfortunate coincidence — its employees include Cyril (Armand Sancey Richard) and Pierrick (Lucas Marillier), with whom Totone had an earlier physical scuffle. He lasts only long enough to learn that this dairy’s high-quality milk produced the previous year’s best Comté cheese, in a competition with a 30,000 EUR first prize.
This knowledge, coupled with what he observed during a cheese-making demonstration at a recent local fair, gives him a crazy idea: He’ll make a terrific Comté cheese and win this year’s prize. Cash-flow problem solved.
(Picture us viewers, rolling our eyes.)
The obvious obstacles: He has no money or farm equipment, having sold the family tractor just to keep food on the table; he has no cheese-making equipment, or sufficiently detailed knowledge of same; and he has no source of the all-essential milk, or the funds to purchase some.
On top of which — as we’re repeatedly shown — cheesemaking isn’t merely complex, involving precise ingredients, careful temperature monitoring, and split-second timing; it’s also back-breaking manual labor.
Totone’s one bright spot is Cyril and Pierrick’s sister, Marie-Lise (Maiwene Barthelemy), who runs their dairy farm after they also were orphaned. Unlikely as it seems, she’s attracted to Totone, if initially out of pity and curiosity. (The notion that he’s the best local prospect is a scary thought.)
By this point, the story is brightened by its strong relationship dynamics, along with occasional random, aw-shucks acts of kindness. Faveau and Garret are amazing together; the little girl has one of those overly wise adult faces that results from too much childhood grief. Claire loves her older brother, and puts her faith in him; her trusting, hopeful expressions pierce our hearts. Garret is a terrific, soulful little actress.
She also becomes an accomplice to what follows, because (of course) Totone concocts the worst possible “solutions” to his needs. Even when trying to do the right thing, he makes the worst choices possible. Along the way, though, he does his best to be what Claire needs ... even if he’s apt to send her to school in her pajama top.
Totone, Jean-Yves and Francis have a strong, rough-and-tumble friendship; the latter two willingly take part in Totone’s mad scheme, likely because they have nothing better to do.
The bond shared by Totone and Claire is this story’s heart, but the slowly developing relationship between Totone and Marie-Lise runs a close second. Barthelemy’s measured, silently contemplative expressions speak volumes; Marie-Lise also is the only person willing to call out his half-assed behavior. During one of his many bouts of self-pity, she gently chides him, saying, “Stop sniveling, and pull your finger out.”
It's the closest this story comes, to a romantic one-liner, and it’s perfect for the moment.
Courvoisier and her co-writers have great fun, toying with our emotions. Whenever it looks like Totone might be smartening up — and we become hopeful — he makes another dreadfully wrong move. The letdown, each time, is palpable.
But there came a point, ultimately, when I glanced at Constant Companion and said, “I know what he should do ... but will he?”
You’ll have to watch, to find out.
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