The Animal Kingdom

I'll begin this write-up with a little peek behind my waffle curtain. Sometimes I find it tricky to unearth the theme or underlying meaning of certain films, which often leads to a straight-up documentation of the movie and my feelings on it. Occasionally, it might lead to unfocussed word vomit, where I'm madly clutching at straws (or apples - I remember that blind alley). Sometimes it's just pointless to search. Then there are films like Thomas Cailley's The Animal Kingdom, where there are clearly perceptible nuggets in the loam.

So as not to be confused with David Michod's seminal Animal Kingdom, maybe we need to go with the French title, Le Règne Animal. Whatever the language, this is a wonderful little film. The topics touched on here include otherisation, palliative care, and kicking against the political system. There's so much going on here but it's mostly about the pain of letting someone go. At least, that's what I got from it. That's not to say that all the people mutating into animals is insignificant - this acts as an oddly intriguing framework for the themes explored.

The faces in the film include the always watchable Romain Duris and Adèle Exarchopoulos but the beating, evolving heart is Paul Kircher's Émile. Kircher is from French acting stock - his parents are Jerome Kircher and Irene Jacob - and his performance here is jerkily transfixing. On hearing the news that his infected mother is to be transferred from a Paris hospital to the south of France, Émile and dad, François (Duris) make a short term move to be near her. An accident occurs during transport, letting several 'critters' loose in the forested region. Some are recaptured but some....

The idea was apparently conceived pre-Covid but it has a bit of the quarantine feel of that time. It's ridiculous, obviously, but done with no hint of irony, even when Condorman swoops in. The CGI is unavoidably ropey, likely the budget didn't stretch that far, and Exarchopoulos doesn't have a hell of a lot to do (she's never far away from the action, though). Yet these are minor quibbles. The Cronenbergian body horror is suitably squirm-inducing, there's a great corn-field sequence, and the climax brings Truffaut's The 400 Blows to mind. And a couple of bits about François and his wife were proper emotional, not to mention the final action of the story. There's a quote in the film, attributed to the French poet, Rene Char:

That which comes into the world not to upset anything deserves neither respect nor patience.

The moment François eventually remembers this is quite a kick in the guts.

The Animal Kingdom is showing as part of the Alliance Française French Film Festival at Palace and Luna cinemas. (It might have finished its run by time of reading, but I'd encourage keeping an eye out for it, or seeking it on a streamer somewhere.)

See also:

Obviously, some transformation films to watch would be John Landis' An American Werewolf in London (1981) or Yorgos Lanthimos' The Lobster (2015). The 'letting go' angle is illustrated in Denis Villeneuve's brilliant Arrival (2016).