When 14-year-old Anna (Clara Augarde) returns home from her
Catholic boarding school for the summer holidays, she discovers that things
aren’t quite as they should be in her quiet rural household. Her father has
finally flown the family nest, leaving her distraught mother seeking
consolation through her faith; specifically from the village’s young priest,
Father Francois. Perhaps to escape these external dilemmas, or in an attempt to
fill the recent father shaped void in her life, Anna, in no less a charitable
action, decides to take on the responsibility of caring for her ill
grandfather, who may well be at death’s door but certainly isn’t lacking in
youthful verve or spirit.
As the long summer days unwind, she begins to submerge
herself in a series of romantic rendezvous with neighbouring altar boy Pierre.
This exploration of her budding sexuality only exacerbates her already
turbulent inner struggle dealing with adolescence. Combined with the fact that
her conformation is just days away, she is torn between advancing herself
sexually or spiritually…
The most striking element of this film is undoubtedly the
exceptional performance coaxed out of acting debutant Clara Augarde. This young
girl has been thrown straight into the deep end with this unconventionally
honest role, yet she comes across ever the professional, looking like a well
honed actress with the world at her feet. She appears in almost every shot and,
perhaps down to her closeness in age with the character, she deals with these
awkward pubescent moments with a quality of natural performance rarely seen.
Many teenage girls would justifiably run a mile if asked to perform some of the
film’s incredibly personal and revealing scenes, yet Augarde commendably takes
it in her stride, impressively shifting between the fragility of a child and
the staunch defiance of a newly empowered woman.
This slow and subtle drama certainly aims to be more than
just a mere coming of age tale, instead evolving into a deceptively slight
portrait of natural human behaviour. Most crucially, showcasing our constant
struggle against carnal urges through the self-imposed chains we use to
restrain ourselves, whether it be through laws, religion or just a sense of
common decency. Despite the heavy focus on young Anna, there is definitely a
wealth of other well rounded characters from which the film derives its
narrative.
As well as Anna’s fragile family dynamic, there’s the rather
interesting sub plot involving the young girl’s mother and the priest. Both
seem to acknowledge that there’s a mutually reciprocated attraction, but, due
to their strong religious values, it is never consummated. Indeed, it is this
portrayal of various troubled relationships, by director Katell Quillévéré that
separates Love Like Poison from similar, yet more singularly focused tales of
such youthful trials. In particular, the divisive use of Pierre, the young boy
Anna becomes transfixed with, is of great interest – the similarities with
himself and Anna’s father turns an otherwise sweet (if not slightly awkward and
fumbling) relationship into a haunting depiction of how fatally flawed we are
as human beings, continually repeating the mistakes of our forefathers.
As to be expected, one of the central themes explored here
is the bond between mother and daughter. Not only do they share the wealth of
the screen time, but theirs is also the most complex and engaging of all the
relationships on show here. With one discovering her new found womanhood and
the other’s biological clock counting down rapidly, their mirroring physical
changes makes for an emotionally charged series of encounters.
Music, too, plays a huge role in Quillevere’s first feature
film. Its title literally translates as ‘The Violent Poison’ and come from a
Serge Gainsborough song that focuses on the tension love can create, pulling
apart families. It’s perhaps the use of traditional folk music, all sang by
women, that is the most interesting, acting as a comforting collection of
‘words of wisdom’ to reassure us that Anna’s problems are as old as time.
Anna’s grandfather adds some much needed light relief;
however, it’s a role which is underdeveloped and could have a lot more to offer
than just the jovial offhand remarks we are privy to. His atheist, and
light-hearted beliefs could have lead to a viewpoint on the issues of love and
sexual desires unhindered by religious constraints that would have helped
engage the film to a wider audience – who may otherwise find the heavy use of
Catholicism a little too suffocating and alien to relate with.
There is also a disappointing lack of dramatic conflict
considering the heightened anxiety that broods behind each interaction within
this quaint Breton parish. Whilst this slow burning build up creates an
interesting and initially gripping level of tension, the lack of any final
emotive explosion or conclusive scene of redemption leaves an unremarkable
taste, which does little to separate it from recent films such as Jessica
Hausner’s Lourdes; another beautifully shot film steeped in questionable
religious traditions, which equally takes an impartial viewpoint after
initially promising to do much more with the subject matter.
This empathetic vision of adolescence, whilst a competent
piece of searching filmmaking, ultimately lacks enough confrontation to make
its detached mood stay with you any further than the end credits. Whilst this
quintessentially introspective coming of age drama certainly holds its own, it
could have doubtlessly made more of the existential aroma or religion it
shrouds itself in. More is the pity as Quillevere and Augarde are, based on the
flashes of brilliance shown in this their debut feature, certainly both names
to watch out for.
