learning to pretend
by Douglas Messerli
Jean-Baptiste Léonetti (writer and director) Carré blanc (White Square) / 2011
Léonetti’s first feature film, Carré blanc, is a rather stylish but
dramatically empty dystopian view of the future. This director’s future is more
pernicious, in some ways, than was Orwell’s or Huxley’s in that instead of an
all-powerful central government controlling behavior and thought, here—in what
is perhaps a sign of the times—large corporations are in control. Certainly the
government is in collaboration, encouraging through large speakers night and
day throughout the city for its populace to produce babies (even girls of 12
are encouraged to get artificial inseminations) and for families to play, what
is clearly the popular sport, croquet.
Léonetti shows us only two of these corporations—perhaps part of the
same “white square” industrial combines—but different in their roles. The first
organization, for which the mother of the “hero” works, is a meat-processing
plant. But the meat being processed is apparently human flesh, cut up and cured
into sandwich meat for an eagerly waiting public. After all, they have plenty
of human corpses available. Large numbers of the population, we soon discover,
jump from balconies in despair (many of the high rises contain nets over
parking lots, where it is suggested cars should not park). Others, we later
perceive, are pummeled to death by gangs of executives, or tortured to death by
executive evaluators, testing the loyalty and inventiveness of their employees.
Families are encouraged to have children, consequently, because it is a society that is losing much of its population to the violence and heartlessness imbued by the society itself. Who would want to bring a child into this dreadful world, only to see it emotionally and, ultimately, virtually “chewed up?”
In the very first scene we observe the young Philippe’s (Sami Bouajila)
mother climbing a fence to escape the human meat plant wherein she works, her
suicide quickly following. The young boy, furious with his mother for her
cowardice, is taken in to a facility for the numerous parentless children, and
taught how to violently torture one another for their failures, for their lack
of quick-thinking and skills at survival. Early on Philippe attempts suicide by
hanging himself, saved by a young girl, Marie, who later becomes his wife. But
the scars never leave, as he is punished by having to beat to death another
child who has mistakenly agreed to get into one of the numerous black body
bags. The society, the teacher explains, has no room for someone willing to
enter such a space.
Philippe’s mother has warned him that he will have learn “how to
pretend” in order to survive, a lesson which, we soon realize, he has learned
only too well. For Philippe, we are shown, as grown into an adult who tortures
the company’s workers. When asked to stand flat against a wall and then
back-up, employees cannot comprehend what to do, as they dutifully attempt the
impossible, obviously failing. Not one of them imagines that they might turn
laterally against the wall and back up alongside it. Told to remain in the
circle while they are beaten with heavy sticks, no one of them perceives that
the cardboard circle might be moved away from the man intent on the punishment.
Obedience is required, but they seldom challenge the strictures enough
that they might be saved. It reminds me of the laboratory experiments with
students at the University of Wisconsin—an experiment in which I myself
participated—where individuals were told that on the other end of the
connection there were participants trying to learn lessons; one had the choice,
when they made mistakes, of electrically shocking them at three levels of
power. Many participants chose the highest level of pain, particularly as the
experiment continued. Contrarily, I usually chose the lowest so that they might
not give up. But none of us asked why we were being told to send shocks to
other human beings!
Meanwhile, Marie has left Philippe, in part, because he refuses to have
a child and, primarily, because of the role he has taken on for himself, that
of being another monster in a world of monsters determined to survive. Yet,
Marie cannot entirely abandon him, and returns again and again, haunting his
offices, trying to convince him of the errors of his life.
Like others in this society, Philippe is tortured by his own actions,
but cannot cease the “pretense” that might allow him to survive.
But this is precisely where Léonetti’s script is the weakest, because we
lose contact with the vague and sometimes vapid acts of a man who himself has
suffered just such abuses. Of course, any psychologist might tell us that it is
often the abused who go on to abuse others; violence begets violence; monsters
come from a monstrous society.
The worst monsters of this work appear as roving bands of wanabee office
execs, beating and killing a waiter who accidently drops a champagne tray at a
party, attempting to beat and kill Marie simply because she stares at them with
a mixture of amazement and disgust. A company parking guard saves the day by
threatening the group with a toy gun. And he, in turn, is seen as one of the
most tortured beings of all, forced to smile at every company employee while trapped
within a box from which he is released for only a few counted seconds, never
permitted to actually speak.
Léonetti’s film asks some fascinating questions, but makes no attempt to
actually deal with them, the director's visions coming alive more in the scenes
of torture and abuse than in the potential salvation of his heroes. Perhaps,
the director hints, the monsters will destroy their own kind; when asked by the
company director to punish the four murderers, Philippe presents them with a
bottle of champagne sitting upon on a table. The winner will be the one who can
first drink the entire bottle. The four rush forward, furiously and brutally
battling with each other, before one crashes the bottle into one man’s head. On
the table there were also four straws, but none of them could imagine that they
might have shared the substance. The other three soon after kill Jean-Luc, the
most violent of their group. Yet there is little evidence that they will not
soon turn again against the innocent and the weak, destroying those who might
refuse to pretend.
Los Angeles, November 12, 2011
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (November 2011).
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