I Can't Sleep (Denis, 1994)

Perhaps just another serial killer movie from the 90s. But why does it not follow the similar beats narratively? This one feels like an odd one in Denis' filmography. To a certain extent the narrative thrust (as much as there is one here) is very of it's time - in the sense that the 90s were filled with schlocky (and sometimes not-so schlock) serial killer movies. But as one probably anticipates, this was not Denis' bid for mainstream accessibility, nor an exploration into the darkness of her soul (aka, The House That Jack Built). Perhaps it's due to the presence of Yekaterina Golubeva here that I am reminded of the work of her ex-husband, Šarūnas Bartas (who has a cameo in here). 

The wider swath of characters and the focus on the more mundane and ordinary moments of life are more in common with the almost ethnographic "ambient narratives" of Bartas' work from this period. Though to be clear, there is more happening here than in his work. It's also interesting how Denis subverts stereotypes or cliches one might expect from certain characters early in the film, immediately setting this apart from films with similar plots. An immigrant from Lithuania, an interracial couple, and a gay drag-performer are all foreign. To the eyes of an audience, these are the people for whom must live difficult lives, and they are portrayed as such when they are featured as main performances in films (to this day), but here they exist. There is no daily crisis that obstructs their existence, no falsified movie event meant to deepen their struggle. Life happens, it goes on, with or without them. They are not pawns in a greater plan, they are people for whom we merely have a small window into their existence. 

Their poverty is one of societal oppression and obstruction. Low to lower-middle class workers simply trying to live/achieve the dream of a middle-class life. These are people for whom thinking about a serial killer(s) on the loose in their city doesn't occupy a large space in their mind. A more pressing matter is simply trying to stay afloat - whether that means here (in Paris) or moving elsewhere. 

Though formally this is a bit more locked off then I remember it being, this does appear to be the clearest distillation of Denis' formal approach to this point. A tonal core, isolated people from different backgrounds in a variety of personal/economic situations, links the strands together. But the iciness, the coldness of the perspective as a whole, binds the narrative together. Her perspective is never anything other than warm, but her gaze is unforgiving and unflinching. Everyone has a reason for what they're doing, whether it's taking a mediocre job or killing a random person, Denis does not let the viewer off the hook. You will acknowledge this person's existence. They live and breathe as you do, and there is no black and white, only gray.

No Fear, No Die (Denis, 1990)

Decidedly an improvement in almost every regard from her debut (which is still pretty great in my estimation). The energy here is much wilder and free-flowing, as opposed to the more contained approach of Chocolat, resulting in a picture that seems like it can go anywhere. The focus on shady dealings in the underground, "The Gates of Hell" as it's put early on in the film, is but a prelude to the brutality that Denis would eventually be come to be known for. It's no longer contained, it's an animal, a cock, that is riled up and is just waiting to be provoked. 

These shady dealings, the arranged cock-fights, for the love of sport, for the love of destruction, for the love of profit. The exploitation of others/another, weaker than oneself. The metaphor is clear and easy, but Denis never seeks to make that the singular point of this, or any of her films. Because everyone is being exploited by someone else higher up the food chain, there is no escape for the two men at the center of this narrative. You're only as good as your last performance. People, animals, are totally expendable here. 

And what better way to discuss masculinity than to make it about cocks? More about confidence, ego, and bravado then anything more, the size and strength of one's cock is a way that man measures his own worth. The typical male archetype in fiction usually engages with some kind of struggle to show their masculinity - either to a partner or against other men's displays. Society has fostered this kind of perspective. To find yourself in society, a man must make it known to others that he is a "man". 

This is even more prevalent in a society where racism is foundational to its structure. The hierarchy, even in underworld circles (or perhaps even more so in underworld circles?), reinforces class differences; and, as stated above, only tolerates the darker members of their ring because of what they can use them for. To view them as even people would be to acknowledge their existence. They are just as much of a commodity as the birds fighting in the ring. 

If nothing else though, this is perhaps one of the best showcases for actors that Denis has ever crafted. Her two leads, Isaach De Bankolé and Alex Descas, manage to imbue the screen with so much pent of tension and frustration, it eventually is forced to bleed out of the film. Violence is ever-present but it is kept bottled up for as long as possible, and when it finally explodes, death is all that remains.

Chocolat (Denis, 1988)

Unquestionably the film of Denis' that is most indebted to her influences and mentors. Jarmusch and Wenders' presences can be felt throughout the work. The more rigid and distanced compositions belie the intimacy that her work would later exhibit so naturally. Here, it's still in it's growing stages, developing. Thus, there is almost a bluntness to some of her images here, a lack of the subtlety that would emerge soon after (though these are all aspects that certainly require one to take into context her career as a whole and not view this movie in a vacuum). 

On its own, there is a kind of traditionalism to it's formal approach, the influence of her mentors mentioned above, but there's a very common "French"-ness towards a lot of what's here as well. Perhaps coming from the likes of a Rivette or a Rohmer, the way in which she stages certain scenes feels like it comes out of their playbooks. There's very little in what could be called "Cinema of the Body" on display here. The landscape, both exterior and interior, are more immediately striking. It's in the rare display of physicality by De Bankolé that we see this interest first appear and start to take shape. A natural form of sexuality that is inherent within the shape of his body, not in the adoration of a "foreign" body, but his body, specifically, that catches the eye, and certainly Denis' interest. 

With that said, the inherent "French" quality of her formal aesthetics do not transfer to her perspective to her characters or her treatment of colonization. There's an even-handedness and a noticeable amount of forethought into the perspective she's showcasing here. Obviously, much has been discussed regarding it's degree of biographical material present in here, but for someone who more than likely came up in a family living in the upper-tier of their society, Denis does not show any indication of either class or racial preference throughout. Certainly, the class inequality is present throughout, but the leveling of her perspective allows for both the upper and the lower classes to exist without the need for caricature. The POV of a child does not show class or racial distinction. A child must be taught these views, they are not inherent within. 

It's fascinating that even at such an early stage her fascination with violence is still inherent in her worldview. Certainly not as graphic as later genre-experiments would be, the violence here is perhaps more cruel and haunting than outwardly perceptible. That inherent racism that brings white man to colonize "foreign lands". It's this that breaks the pleasantries after the film's first hour, enriching the texture present, and revealing that for all the niceties that an oppressor can show the oppressed, there is an underlying contempt that will always exist between the two, and that can/will lead to destruction.