QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM CANNES

Liane (Malou Khebizi) is still a teenager, yet she boasts the attire and bodily modifications consistent with a much older woman. She is the embodiment of precocious sexualisation, and of the extreme aesthetic norms imposed on young women. She brags about her recent boob job, wears heavy make-up (including very thick eyebrows and enhanced resembling a cartoon character, or perhaps an inflatable doll) and dons clothes so scant and tight that she makes Marilyn Monroe’s Lorelei look like a Dominican nun. She is a rough diamond undergoing some very intense cutting. Liana wants to shine. And she wants to shine right now, however elusive and futile her ambitions may seem.

Her life is defined by her meticulously crafted image, and measured by the number of followers on Instagram, which rocket from 30,000 to more than 60,000 after she auditions for a reality television show called Miracle Island. This event is indeed nothing short of a miracle, in a film dotted with subtle religious undertones (perhaps not in vain, Liane describes herself as a believer). The importance of this triumph is such that Liane gently detaches herself from her old friends, basking is newfound sense of “celebrity”. She is convinced that agency manager Alexandra Ferrer (Antonia Buresi) will pick her, and thus begins to treat her as some sort of mother figure.

Khebiki delivers a captivating – at times devastating – performance, and is a strong contender for the Best Actress award at Cannes. Liane exudes confidence in public, yet shrinks with fear in private. She showcases her self-made tattoo to her loyal online followers, only to break down with shame as soon as the broadcast stops. Her hands are visibly shaken with anxiety, her eyes exuding vulnerability. She successfully conceals her weaknesses when she confronts her absent mother (the real one, not the platonic Alexandra), a bitter and careless woman who perfidiously reproaches her daughter’s “barbie” looks. She was once under foster care, and is now back home in order to look after her sister, aged around 12, a literal mini-me version of herself (with tiny clothes, painted face, et al). Her younger sibling looks upon her as a role model, particularly after her “influencer” career takes off.

The female body in the centrepiece of this raw, vaguely disturbing and yet intensely beautiful youth drama. During the audition, the television producer orders Liana to undress to her underwear. The static camera zooms into her from the position of the examiner, thus emphasising the voyeuristic and lewd nature of reality television. Liana doesn’t mind being objectified because she constantly uses her body as a weapon for social acceptance, assertion and ascension. But this is not without boundaries. The intense male gaze and touch eventually cause her to break, in one of the film’s most crucial scenes. Her relationship with males is problematic, torn between career and affection. This may explains why she rejects the advances of a handsome and doting boy around her age.

Forty-year-old Agatha Riedinger, who both wrote and directed Wild Diamond, creates an elegant and eloquent piece of filmmaking. The photography of the female body is palpable however respectful. The helmer-scribe does not judge her character, instead allowing Liane to experience the perks but also the trials and tribulations of “stardom” at her own accord. It is not entirely clear whether she takes aim at vacuous celebrity culture, as the film shuns any didacticism in favour of plain naturalness. This a moving portrait of ferocious youth in all of its magnificent contradictions. The action is punctuated by a jarring violin score and short passages degrading women, present in bible-like format. The outcome is a tense and profound experience. Occasional clunky editing (such as very sudden shoplifting scene) is the only significant flaw in an otherwise impeccable movie. Wild Diamond has the crude realism and energy of How to Have Sex (Molly Manning Walker, 2023), a very fine British drama about the consent and the hypersexualisation of teens on holiday. Both films are oozing with strong performances and realism, and allow viewers to peek into the fragile world of a girl’s very abrupt coming-of-age.

Wild Diamond just premiered in the Official Competition of the 77th Cannes International Film Festival. This is Agatha Riedinger’s debut feature, and a very rare achievement. Very few first-time directors have their film showcased in the main competitive strand of the world’s most prestigious film festival (typically, just one such film per year).