Am I My Sister’s Keeper?
Did hell freeze over? Did I actually like a Catherine Breillat movie? That’s right, I watched and enjoyed À ma soeur! (or Fat Girl, as it’s known here). OK, maybe “enjoyed” isn’t really the right word, given that it’s about a miserable, overweight 12-year-old watching as her prettier 14-year-old sister loses her innocence. But still. After suffering through Romance and Anatomie de l’enfer, I wasn’t expecting much, so I was pleasantly surprised by the depth and relative subtlety of À ma soeur! It’s not even that pretentious! The reason this film worked for me was that the focus was on the relationship between Anaïs (Anaïs Reboux) and her sister Elena (Roxane Mesquida), rather than on, you know, tampon tea. Sure, there’s loads of explicit erotic imagery and plenty of cringe-worthy scenes, but Breillat shows a fair amount of restraint here. This is a movie about sisters and body image and sexual development. The best part is, I can say that without feeling like I’m totally talking out of my ass. These themes are obvious but they’re not shoved down your throat, and rather than build a flimsy movie around them, Breillat creates an actual story that speaks for itself. (Don’t worry—I’ll surely go back to hating her work soon.)
Warnings: NSFW, spoilers for À ma soeur!
The differences between Anaïs and Elena are obvious from the beginning. The latter’s ability to attract men is almost comical, as in an early scene where she meets Fernando (Libero De Rienzo). Within minutes, he is sucking her fingers. Moments later, they are kissing:
And what is Anaïs doing? Eating a banana split.
À ma soeur! is filled with these images of juxtaposition. It constantly switches back and forth between the sisters—first to note their dissimilarity, but then (I would argue) to bring them together. This is actually a film about shared experience. Yeah, Anaïs appears to be ignoring the couple and focusing on her food, but she’s clearly getting some enjoyment out of watching, or at least being in their presence. It’s as if she’s getting kissed, too.
Shortly thereafter, she transfers this kiss to the only object she can find—
Which is a little bit funny and a lotta bit sad.
Even though she’s not having sex—or even kissing anyone—Anaïs is developing too. The constant back-and-forth is designed to link the sisters. Consider the scene in which Fernando tries to have sex with Elena. The images of the couple together are intercut with shots of Anaïs watching.
It would be easy enough to explain this device as a reflection of the younger sibling’s jealousy and desire. She can’t have a boyfriend of her own, so she watches her sister—and I’m sure that’s part of it. But as the scene progresses and Fernando convinces Elena to let him fuck her anally, Anaïs goes from voyeur to participant.
The camera stays on Fernando and Elena as he persuades her.
But as soon as penetration occurs, it cuts to Anaïs. We don’t see Fernando fucking Elena; we hear it, but what we see is Anaïs seeing it. On one level, she’s a point of identification for the audience, in that she is also the watcher. But more importantly, the sisters are united and the sex act is transposed on Anaïs: we hear Elena’s cries while we’re watching her sister’s face. By virtue of the way this is shot, Anaïs becomes a sexual object.
The juxtaposition continues. One of the most effective dual shots occurs when the sisters accompany Fernando to the beach—
I love how it continues to do two things at once. Of course, Anaïs is completely isolated from Elena. But in the way this is cut, she also is Elena.
Elena does eventually let Fernando take her virginity. And that scene, more than any other, cements the link between the girls, as Anaïs takes on her sister’s pain.
Um, this is just a side note, but kudos to Breillat for frequently showing guys putting on condoms in her movies. Safe sex FTW!
Once again, we see the build-up to penetration.
This time, however, we stay with Fernando and Elena as they begin to have sex. Note the look of discomfort on Elena’s face … but that’s nothing compared to what Anaïs is going through.
Why is she crying? Maybe it’s because she wants to lose her virginity. Maybe she’s upset that her sister is making a mistake. Plausible explanations, but on a thematic level, how can we help but see this as a response to the physical pain of sex for the first time? As we hear Elena and Fernando finish, we see Anaïs cry. The way I see it, the sisters lose their virginity together.
There’s plenty more to be said about À ma soeur!—I haven’t even touched on the utterly bizarre (and really upsetting!) ending. I’d like to save that for another post eventually, but I’m also curious to hear from people who have seen the film. Those last three minutes: does anyone care to weigh in on what the fuck that’s all about?
June 6, 2009 at 3:56 pm
I never thought I would have actually watched a movie like this, but somehow it happened, and I felt a little voyeuristic and disturbed when all was done. As for the ending, I saw it as Anaïs welcoming the destruction of her family-self in return for a self-identity separate from her sister. The rape was freeing for her, because it was her own experience, no matter how disgusting it was. I actually hated the movie, but I like your analysis.
June 6, 2009 at 4:39 pm
This sounds like a really interesting movie!
Oh, and FYI: the term for the interlaced shots is “cross cutting” (sometimes intercutting). I wrote a fatty paper focusing on cross cutting for my Wire class. Something to note about cross cutting is that it allows another character to occupy the same time and space as another without diegetically sharing the space. Ooh, so intellectual.
June 9, 2009 at 7:53 am
I love the way you write about movies, with such humor and offhand intellect. You make me want to see every film you talk about.
…which is really creepy given the topic at hand.
June 23, 2009 at 11:53 am
A ma Soeur was the first movie i ever received from Netflix and i watched it with some friends without really knowing what it was about. My friends hated me that night.
While i was as disturbed by this film as much as my friends, i couldn’t help but admire the fact that it kept making me think.
Your analysis is an good one and Jorge’s reply fits right in line with it. I have thought that the ending signified a extremely violent death to Anais’ innocence and the girl’s role as a key participant in that death.
I can not say that i hate the films of Catherine Breillat. They contain the most disturbing and uncomfortable images i have ever come across (minus non-fictional images) and yet great art must cull strong responses from its audience. Irreversible was so hard to watch. i sobbed for hours afterward and could still sense the effects a couple of days later. While it is easy to hate the thing that yields such a response, it much better to admire and try to understand why such a reaction is prompted.