There’s fresh energy even in the still scenes where no movement is happening. You can feel how the energy is trapped into a slowly expanding balloon that could explode at any moment; every scene portrays trapped unexposed vitality. When the dazzling power gets its début it fills the speakers with innocent laughter, the sound of punches on soft skin or abrasive and confusing French slang; ending in the dearest whispering or silent cries. There are little stories of adaptation, living up to the constrains and impositions of your reality, as a black teen learning how to become a woman without a dress rehearsal, in what seems to be a limited reality ruled by male power. The only escapism is found somehow by imitating those interactions among men, while creating a female version of their gangs, somehow to feel empowered and respected. The real reality, once accepted, is quite simple: you will either be a mother or a whore, and of course the choice of which man accessory you’ll be is entirely yours.
Thank you.
Enjoy.
‘Watch me’ is an on-going collection of contemporary writing on selected films, placed between a factual movie review and a synopsis.
The writings focus on philosophical, psychological and sociological theories with incomprehensible metaphors but fresh like lemons.
