broken promises
by
Douglas Messerli
Jean-Pierre
Dardenne and Luc Dardenne (screenwriters and directors) La Promesse /
1996
The
1996 film by the brothers Dardenne, La Promesse, shares much in common with
L’Enfant. In this moving work the same actor, Jérémie Renier—nine years before
the second film, when he was still a young boy—plays another petty thief, Igor,
this time working for his beloved father, Roger. Although he is apprenticing to
become an auto mechanic, his first act of the film is to steal the billfold of
an elderly lady whose car he is servicing, and we quickly see that—given his
father’s demands—he will never even rise to the position of mechanic. After
repeatedly leaving his job early in order to help his father, he is fired.
Roger is in the business of exploiting
lives, helping illegal aliens enter the country in turn for near-complete
servitude to him as he provides them with a place to live and an indentured job
constructing his “dream” home, described in the English translation as “the
white house,” clearly representing for the father the Belgian equivalent of the
“American dream.”
Roger, universally hated by his
“servants,” uses his own son to collect rent, to service their few needs, and
to create the necessary documents they’ll need upon their eventual release from
his debt. In a sense, Roger is what one might call a small-time facilitator: he
represents the necessary step for these illegal aliens to gradually slip into
the fabric of Belgian society, and in that sense he may be a sleazy exploiter
of these hopeful men and women, but he is a necessary conduit to their new
lives.
It is this grey zone of behavior that
allows the viewer to both hate and sympathize with Igor’s father. Moreover, the
Dardennes represent him as a family man; although a younger woman has quite
obviously replaced Igor’s mother, Roger, despite his obvious abuse of his son,
remains, on his own terms, also a loving father, rewarding Igor with tattoos, a
ring that matches his own, and spending-money. The ring is particularly
meaningful in this quiet film in which there is little dialogue, for it
symbolizes a committed relationship between father and son, a bond that is best
expressed cinematically in their off-key but perfectly synchronized rendition
of a popular song in the local bar.
The audience, however, realizes quite
early in this film that just below the surface of this easy exploitation of
foreigners and son is a potential for violence that may destroy anyone in its
way. In one of the earliest scenes of the movie, we are introduced to Assita
(Assita Ouedraogo), a Burkina Fasso woman who, with her child, has arrived to
join her husband Hamidou. Igor is mesmerized by both the grace and beauty of
Assita. Watching her as she bathes herself and child, it is clear that for him
she and her child represent a resplendent image of love outside of the
“male-bondage”—for it is a bondage, not just a “bonding”—between himself and
his father. When inspectors raid the “white house” in search of illegal
workers, Igor warns the workers, as they scramble into oblivion. But in his
attempt to escape, Hamidou falls from the scaffolding. Igor runs to aid him,
but it is clear that the man is dying, and Hamidou demands that the boy promise
to “take care” of his wife and child. Igor has just enough time to hide the man
before the inspectors arrive, and when they leave, he explains what has
happened to his father, demanding they take Hamidou to the hospital.
Roger recognizes that the demand is
impossible; the doctors will surely report them to the authorities. Hamidou
dies where he has been hidden in trash, and his body is buried by Roger and his
son in cement. As together they wash Hamidou’s blood from their bodies, we
perceive it—through the directors’ lens—as a ritualistic act which further
binds the two while also designating the end of Igor’s childhood, reiterated
soon after when he passes on the key to his beloved go-cart to a young friend.
A day later, Roger beats his son for helping Hamidou’s widow, and Igor is
forbidden to visit her again
Unable to get Assita to leave on her own,
Roger—afraid that her presence will bring attention to his entire
operation—arranges for a delivery of a telegram, supposedly from her missing
husband, to meet him in Germany. When Roger offers to drive her to the
rendezvous, it becomes apparent to Igor that he is planning to sell her into
prostitution.
As they prepare to leave, Igor suddenly
intervenes, escaping with the car and its passengers, Assita and child. Selling
the ring his father has given him, he buys her a ticket to Italy, where
Hamidou’s brother lives. While he “ditches” the car, we are witness to the kind
of life she can look forward to if she stays in Belgium—or, perhaps, can expect
in Italy as well. Two local punks piss upon on her and her child as she waits
near a bridge, soon after proceeding to drive their motorcycles over the bag in
which she carries her worldly possessions.
Igor puts her up temporarily in his
previous employer’s vacant apartment, but she is soon on the street again,
seeking someone to take her to the hospital: her baby has a fever! No one will
stop, and Igor’s attempt to ameliorate the situation is rejected. Assita
refuses any further participation in her own victimization.
The child is cared for, and a hospital
nurse provides both safer living-quarters and her own legal documents to permit
Assita to travel. A tribal shaman is called in to determine the cause of the
baby’s continuing fever, a ceremony the young Igor watches with painful dismay
as the shaman prophesizes that something secret is being kept within, that the
child may die if Assita does not find her husband who has not gone away but
remains nearby.
Does she really believe in the ceremony,
probes Igor? Yes, she insists.
As they climb the stairs to where she will
leave for Italy, Igor finally releases himself from all the shackles of his
past (chains which now symbolically and quite literally embrace his father),
admitting to Assita what really happened to Hamidou. She turns back, walking
into a dubious future with all the pain and necessity of one having to face the
past.
Los
Angeles, May 22, 2006
Reprinted
from The Green Integer Review, No. 3 (May-June 2006) and Reading
Films: My International Cinema (Los Angeles: Green Integer, 2012).




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