France (dir. Bruno Dumont), 2021

France de Meurs is a celebrated television journalist, slated in a primetime political hour by her network. When in the studio, she moderates debates between the right and left. When in the field, she curates human rights crises, ensuring she is at the center of the story. Her fame and self-important work offers her a high she receives no where else: France has a surface-level relationship with her husband and son while her only friendship appears to be with her doting, agreeable assistant. France's repressed, underlying depression is forced to the surface when she accidentally bumps a delivery driver with her vehicle, causing a dislocated kneecap and temporary unemployment. In the grand scheme of her near future, this was an inconsequential incident. However, it is a deeply impactful start to a series of humbling, and increasingly traumatic, experiences for France.

France operates as a satire toward the blurred lines of news journalism and entertainment industry and the similarly blurred lines of privilege and reality. At a gala, during the first half of the film, she is asked by a guest if she is right or left wing. "What difference does it make?" France despondently asks. To France, such issues matter very little. The grinding politics will always garner viewers, line her pockets, and increase her notoriety much like the endless tragedies of the world she also covers (and curates) for her show: murder, war, and refugee crises. One can see France prefers to live in her privileged celebrity bubble, but on-going incidents and tragedies have forced her to confront the realities of her underlying depression and dissatisfaction. And, much like real life, rock bottom is relative. At first, the delivery driver incident seems like the worst possible outcome as France is embroiled in a minor scandal and takes considerable interest in the impacted family (to the tune of forty-thousand euro). Yet, these incidents begin to spiral out and become more damaging, both to France's reputation and also to her livelihood. How these tragedies impact France and spur self-realization propel the film from mere satire to bold character-study.

Yes, France is part satire and part character-study, equally intriguing aspects grounded by actress Lea Seydoux. While the structure may be difficult to follow at first, the unpredictability is an aid in how France engages its viewer. How the film confronts relative depression, life perspective, and the pursuit of happiness is oddly satisfying (or oddly frustrating, depending on the audience). Personally, minor faults aside, I found the journey of France de Meurs to be an exhilarating film experience as she navigates rises and falls, before settling for an acceptance of her surrounding world and, perhaps, finding herself grounded long enough to recapture a long-lost inner-happiness.

Rating: 8/10