Film Review
The main plot driver - an uneasy reconciliation between an estranged
father and son - is a well-worn conceit but the milieu is one that most
audiences will be unfamiliar with. With two reasonably successful
directorial offerings under his belt one a racially themed comedy
(
Mauvaise foi),
the other a hard-hitting judicial drama (
Omar m'a tuer) -
Roschdy Zem ventures into fairly
uncharted waters for his third feature, one that is set in the
fascinating but mostly misunderstood world of professional
bodybuilding. His film is essentially a dramatised reworking of
Bryan Friedman's 2007 documentary
The
Bodybuilder and I, the action shifted from Canada to the French
town of Saint-Étienne. It's an ambitious undertaking for a
comparatively inexperienced filmmaker and whilst the film has some
inescapable flaws it does provide a compelling insight into a world
that for most of us is as distant and unattractive as the planet
Neptune.
It was particularly brave of Zem to cast in the lead role a
professional bodybuilder with no prior acting experience.
François Yolin Gauvin began his bodybuilding career at the age
of 17 and over the ensuing four decades was crowned bodybuilding
champion of France three times, whilst coming second on three occasions
in the world championship. Now 58, Gauvin still has a has an
impressive physique (he looks oddly like a computer-generated hybrid of
Arnold Schwarzenegger and French acting legend Robert Dalban) but,
importantly, he has screen presence and an engaging personality.
The character that Gauvin portrays is so near his own that he doesn't
need to act, and this adds greatly to the film's authenticity. Gauvin's
depiction of an ageing bodybuilder constantly at war with his own body
is by far the strongest element of the film, so much so that it renders
most of the rest of the film pretty superfluous.
Playing Gauvin's estranged son is a young actor who will be familiar to
French film aficionados, Vincent Rottiers. Over the past few
years Rottiers, who resembles a kind of demonically distilled James
Dean, has pretty well cornered the market in French cinema with his
brooding portrayals of alienated post-adolescent men. In
Bodybuilder, Rottiers once again
turns in a faultless performance, convincing as a habitual tearaway who
'finds himself' through the overused contrivance of a parental
reconciliation. With a less capable actor, the Heath Robinson
plot mechanics would have decimated the film's credibility to the point
that it could well have been unwatchable. Rottiers, helped by
Gauvin and an equally committed supporting cast, anchors the film in
reality and allows us to forgive, or at least tolerate, the ineptitude
of the writers.
And it is on the writing front that
Bodybuilder
falls down badly. Roschdy Zem and Julie Peyr's screenplay is
strong on character but weak on plot, and some parts of the film are so
unutterably contrived that you feel like walking away in disgust.
Take, for example, the opening instalment, which is there only to
provide the clumsiest of pretexts for a troublesome son to be dumped on
his absent father. The film could only have been improved if this
entire sequence had been cut and the reasons for Antoine's sudden
arrival on his father's doorstep left unexplained. The middle
section is an altogether different kind of film, one that is
predominantly driven by character interplay rather than borrowed, badly
executed plot ideas. This is where Zem's talents come to the
fore, where the director engages with his subject at a basic human
level, rather than being overwhelmed by it.
Zem deserves special credit for the quiet, respectful way in which he
lifts the lid on the freakish mode of existence of the dedicated
bodybuilder. It would have been so easy to indulge in a futile
quest to understand what motivates people to turn themselves into
muscle-ripped living sculpture, but Zem avoids this and is content to
play the role of the passive observer, showing how bodybuilders live,
the agonies and ecstasies of their art and the incredible personal cost
that this entails. The film is at its most effective and poignant
when it stays in hard-and-fast, Ken Loach-syle social realist
territory, showing the everyday strains and stresses of being and
living with a compulsive bodybuilder.
Where it all goes badly wrong is when the narrative is driven off the
tracks by repeated digressions into soap-style plot artifice.
This is sadly where the film ends up, with a resolution that is every
bit as unconvincing and unsatisfying as the introduction. For a
film about bodybuilding it is ironic that it should lack both muscle
and staying power. What redeems this near fiasco is the raw
authenticity of the acting and the valuable insights it offers into a
way of life about which most of us are profoundly ignorant. For
those who haven't been able to watch Bryan Friedman's eye-opening
documentary, Roschdy Zem's more overtly populist
Bodybuilder is a fair substitute.
© James Travers 2014
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Next Roschdy Zem film:
Mauvaise foi (2006)