QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM VENICE
The year is 1943 and WW2 is at its height. Switzerland remains neutral throughout the entire conflict. That does not mean that Swiss people remain unaffected. Fifteen-year-old Emma (Lila Gueneau) works as a maid for a small rural estate in the French-speaking part of the country, near the German border. Menacing Nazi soldier routinely cross into the nation seeking Jewish refugees. The landowners are more than happy to hand them over. Emma is shocked to find out that these people are being sent to their death. Her bosses reassure her that “these things are complicated” and there’s nothing they can do, in a fine example of unofficial collaborationism with Hitler’ regime. This realisation triggers a quiet desire for change inside Emma.
Powerful and good-looking Louis rapes our protagonist, and she ends up pregnant with his child. Emma tries to reason with the man, who promptly dismisses her: “it’s impossible to establish fatherhood”. She attempts an abortion with a heated wire coat hanger, in the movie’s most disturbing scene. Instead, she inflicts damage upon her own body, and has to carry the pregnancy to full term. Parallel to this, her long missing mother reappears seeking to make amends. The teary woman begs her daughter for forgiveness, explaining abandoning her child was “a terrible mistake”, Emma reluctantly accepts her embrace, while noting: “I should be the one crying”.
Gueneau is very strong in the lead. She conveys the titular sentiment of quiet revolt with precision. Emma says very little. Her demeanour is very shy. Yet her actions speak very loud. She quickly grasps what it means to be oppressed, and seeks multiple ways of breaking the patterns of female submission. She musters the inner strength required in order to forge ahead on her own. While sorority can help to point the way forward, the path is for Emma alone to walk. In this sense, this is a movie about individual self-determination.
Proxy father Paul, who embraces the baby as if it was his own, offers to marry Emma, therefore sparing her the “shame” of being a single mother. But Emma soon realises that that too is a trap. Male kindness comes with a very expensive price tag, and the young woman – now aged 17 and a lot more confident – may not be willing to pay it.
Religion plays a major role in the 96-minute film. A protestant pastor is the community’s voice of reason. And it is religious doctrine that defines the role of women in society. It establishes that they should marry, and remain submissive to their male counterparts. Interestingly, it is the pastor who – perhaps unintentionally – facilitates Emma’s emancipation. They reconnect in what’s perhaps the film’s most meaningful scene.
All in all, Silent Rebellion is an auspicious drama, with satisfactory performances, effective camerawork, and a coherent script. On the other hand, there is very little audacious or even remarkable about it. The afflictions of Emma are very familiar, and the resolution highly predictable. There is no punch-on-the-face moment, and the ending is lukewarmt. It is indeed the titular silence that prevails. Marie-Elsa Sgualdo’s debut feature, which was penned by the director herself alongside Nadine Lamari, has one or two things to say about social conformism, the illusion of safety, and female liberation. It just doesn’t say it very loud.
Silent Rebellion just premiered in the 82nd edition of the Venice International Film Festival.
