Customer Reviews

Fat Girl (The Criterion Collection)

5 star:		(18)
4 star:		(9)
3 star:		(9)
2 star:		(5)
1 star:		(11)

 

 

It upsets me that reviewers have focused on the issues of weight and female competition and jealousy that do exist in this film, but completely ignore the major point of this film. Breillat gives us a brutally honest portrayal of female "baptism" into sexuality. It is not pretty, or romantic, or even sensual (as the socially astute "fat girl" realizes). The older sister, whose bed is surrounded by issues of Cosmo, appropriately enough) is hyper-feminized, and believes that she needs to look as if she stepped off the pages of Cosmo to get and keep and please a man--the most important tasks a woman is given by our culture. Her younger sister is less accepting of these--in fact she repeatedly says that she wants to lose her virginity to someone she doesn't love (a fact consistenly ignored by reviewers in their reviews, and vital to understanding the ending and the distinction between the two sisters). The shocking ending is so significant in this regard--Breillat dares us to question the nature of female adolescent sexual experiences, and to blur the line between consensual and nonconsensual sex in the context of female adolescent sexual awakening. I believe that the consistent overemphasis on weight, (note the strange translation of A Ma Soeur to Fat Girl???) which certainly is an important underpinning of all that transpires in the film, is to the detriment of fostering open discussion of the issue of sexuality; I can only assume that this stems from an inability on the part of the public to get past the reality that adolescent females are in fact sexually active, do not have adequate and reliable resources and information to deal with newfound feelings and cultural expectations and norms, and face often traumatic circumstances as a result.

When I first heard that the English title of Catherine Breillat's 'A ma soeur' (literally 'for my sister') was 'Fat Girl', I was shocked that such sexism and sizism could exist in such strangulatingly p.c. times, especially in the light of the director's uncompromising, though idiosyncratic feminism. But from the very first sequence, Anais' weight is foregrounded, as she devours a banana split at a cafe while her sister is being chatted up by an Italian student. The body is the focus of this film, its display, and the attempts to control it, whether by deciding how much you're going to eat, by seducing minors or by deciding to whom you'll offer your virginity. Like another recent French film, Patrice Chereau's 'Intimacy', Breillat focuses on sexuality in a way hostile to mainstream cinema. Unlike 'Intimacy', whose gauche attempts at realism destroyed its credibility, Breillat insists on formality and artifice, from the summer holiday setting, with its two heroines 'locked up' in a chalet that, with its guards, gates, bars, curfews seems like a high security prison; to the ritualistic manner in which characters negotiate sex; to Breillat's awesomely complicated filming apparatus. The film's coup-de-theatre is a lengthy scene in which Elena sneaks in her boyfriend to the bedroom she shares with a sister she assumes is asleep. Not only is the viewer faced with the problematics of staring at the naked, fetishised body of a minor, and the increasingly grotesque and hypocritical attempts of her lover to seduce her; not only is the framing unflinchingly static, with the odd, sinisterly creeping movement, and the tight compositions forcing the two lovers into an airless claustrophobia; but our voyeurism is shared by our knowledge of the mostly unseen gaze of the younger girl looking on. Though this is the longest and most rigorous example, the film is full of scenes like this, triangular groupings of characters inflicting or evading each others' surveillance, while the parents who have theoretically imposed a rigid discipline on the girls see nothing. Spatial relations draw attention to themselves, as do the symbolic resonances of the settings (chopped woods, dunes etc.). The filming is deliberately unshowy, often flat. Narrative proceeds by a looping pattern, the same characters shifting positions in similarly-set scenes.

So rarefied and artificial is this milieu, that when reminders of the outside world intrude, such as financial worries, it is shocking. And this is where the film becomes especially brilliant. What seemed to have been a fascinating dramatisation of ideas culled from feminism and film theory, focusing on ideas of free will, choice, exploitation, truth, knowledge, appetite etc., the extraordinary last third reminds us that we don't always have a final say in everything we do. The mix of suspense and surprise, and the play on doubles, mirrors, sleeping and fairy tale motifs, is masterly.

Anaïs is a plumb, unattractive 12-year-old girl who lives in a dream world, not unlike many girls her age, where one day she'll find true love, marry and live happily ever after. Her sister Elena is a beautiful 15 year old who has become very aware of her sexuality. For the most part, their self-obsessive mother and workaholic father are uninvolved in their lives and they are pretty much on their own. During a family vacation, which dad must abandon because of work, the girls meet a good looking Italian law student, Fernando, and Elena, literally reeking with wanton sexuality, arranges to meet the young man at their vacation house. Since Elena shares a room with Anaïs, the younger sister is sworn to secrecy. After Fernando arrives, we learn very quickly that he's been around and his objective is solely to score with this young girl, but confronted with the reality of sex, Elena is hesitant. She wants more than sex . . . perhaps she even shares her younger sisters illusions about love. Nevertheless, Fernando convinces her that she can please him sexually and it won't really count as sex. This scene along with the actual act the following night are difficult to watch, but more so for Anaïs. Besides the anger, jealousy and disillusionment, all of her notions of romantic love are being warped. Her dreams have disappeared and she's become numb. When the shocking violent end arrives, we should hardly be surprised by her reaction. Graphic and powerful stuff by controversial director Catherine Breillat.

Mirroring territory that she ventured three years prior with 'Romance,' director Catherine Breillat delivers a film about sexual frustration and feminism. In 'Fat Girl,' she follows a young, overweight teenage girl and her babe 15-year-old older sister. The girls are shown as opposing characters: the older is beautiful and bossy, the younger quiet and reflective. When the older of the sisters meets an Italian college student, she begins to explore the boundaries of her own sexuality, with the younger sister onlooking. Shown without any sort of candy-coating or implication, 'Fat Girl,' like 'Romance,' is a raw, bold, and commendable film. But unlike 'Romance,' the shock and humility the female characters endure in the film does not seem over-the-top or ridiculous. 'Fat Girl' examines both sisterly bonds and the exploration of sexuality without seeming exploitive or manipulative; an excellent film.

This movie paints a vivid portrayal of sibling relationships. Although slow at times, the acting was superb and the plot kept me guessing. There is real suspense toward the end of the movie, and some scenes that are difficult to watch(sexual situations and extreme violence). This film is not for the faint of heart, but if you're looking for real drama and don't mind subtitles, you'll be able to learn something. I can't say that I left the theater thinking "Great movie!", but I DID think it was very powerful.

Fat Girl comes at you out of leftfield, leaving you breathless by the last frame. It's an unflinchingly realistic portrayal of two adolescent siblings: twelve year old Anais and fifteen year old Elena. Anais watches as Elena is seduced by, falls in love with and ultimately gives up her virginity to Fernando, a drop dead gorgeous smooth talking Italian teenager. Elena, because she's older, believes she's wiser in matters of the heart but it's really the pratical Anais who is wiser when she admonishes her older sister. "It's best to do it for the first time with someone you don't know. That way they can't brag about it afterwards. Men are pigs." That line along with the juxaposition of wise younger sister/deluded older sister culminates in a shocking and wildly disturbing ending that comes out of nowhere.

Unlike Breillat's more explicit previous works such as Romance, the erotic scenes in Fat Girl are hugely downplayed. We still get to see a beautiful naked man but the actual erotic scenes, for the most part, take place off screen. The focus of the film is the dynamics of siblings, gender, puberty and desire. I haven't been a huge fan of Breillat's past work but Fat Girl has given me a new respect for her. Shocking, daring and relevant.

Catherine Breillat's "Fat Girl" (2001) is an astounding movie that provides uncompromising and unblinking look at the relationship between two teenage sisters, and their first sexual experiences. The older sister, 15 years old Elena, has no problems attracting boys' attention and sexual desire and while on the family Summer vacation, she meets an older, more experienced boy, who will say and promise anything to seduce her. There are two long, thorough and uncomfortable scenes of seducing Elena that take place in the girls' bedroom with the younger sister, 12 years old Anais, the fat girl of the title not quite asleep. Breillat remembers well what the hell it is to be a teenager, to be confused, frustrated, to think low of yourself, to be ready to enter the world of sexual relationships, to be ready for love, for intimate closeness and to pretend that you don't care about them at all. She also looks closely and with none a gram of sentimentality into siblings' and parents -daughters relationship. The scenes of cruelty and contempt the older sister treats the younger one alternate with rare but poignant moments of tenderness and understanding. Breillat takes us to places we don't go often and we don't want to go but they exist. If you've seen Brellat's movies already, you know that her outlook is not particularly happy, optimistic, or sentimental but "Fat Girl" will shock you as very few movies can. Just when you think that the movie is over and despite the disappointments, embarrassing revelations, and shameless manipulations, life goes on and has so much to offer, Breillat presents you with the final scene that is very difficult to watch and impossible to forget. It does not matter really if the final scene actually took place or was just a fantasy, just the dream projected on the screen.

Regarding the post prior: I would not worry about the run time of the Criterion release versus what IMDB says, which is often inaccurate. Much less would I be convinced about the runtime on a Hong Kong DVD. The cut Criterion will release seems correct. Cowboy Booking, who distributed the film in the U.S. theatrically states Fat Girl has an 83 minute run time. If anything we get a few extra minutes than the U.S theatrical release, which would be a bonus for anyone who saw this movie in U.S. theaters. I trust Criterion know what they are doing.

As for the aesthetic value of the film itself: Fat Girl is a fine film! It says much more than the superficial surface of things. In fact, the simpler any film seems, the more it really has to say. It is actually quite open to interpretation, which has left many with various opinions of it. It's a rare film that has very vocal detractors and supporters. Plus, it has one of the most shocking scenes in cinematic history. The whole film could be seen as a build-up to that final scene, one might say, and you could actually get away with saying that and still say the film has much depth. It filled me with such a rush of emotions and thoughts. Catherine Breillat is a daring, underrated voice in cinema, and I'm delighted to see her finally preserved on a Criterion disc.

Fat Girl (Catherine Breillat, 2001)

So I've now finally seen a Catherine Breillat film. And it's been a month, and I'm still not exactly sure how I feel about it. For a film that runs less than ninety minutes, it tends to the long-winded and didactic. On the other hand, it's one of the few serious films to treat adolescent sexuality with the directness (and, in some perverse way, the reverence) it deserves. On the third hand (can I borrow one of your hands?), Breillat, in her quest for realism of the body, throws out realism of the emotions altogether; in some ways it's a filmed version of one of those awful novels where characters are laughing one second, crying the next, and then full of gritty determination-- and dry cheeks-- and instant later. The characters put on and take off emotions as if they were underwear to be paired with a particularly odd-colored dress. The fourth hand? Well, we'll give that to the ending, which I have since found out (thanks to reading many reviews and a couple of flame wars on IMDB) is considered "shocking", "unrealistic", and "too pat". I, ever the contrarian, found it none of those things a month before I read all this; in fact, it was the only ending that made sense, given much of the dialogue that had come before it.

The plot concerns two sisters, fifteen-year-old nymphette Elena (Sheitan's Roxane Mesquida) and twelve-year-old Anais (Anais Reboux), who's supposed to be the plain one of the two. (I disagreed throughout the film, as I often do; the whole reason I got so confused by The Truth About Cats and Dogs was that Janeane Garofalo was supposed to be the plain one. I don't get it.) The two of them and their mother (Arsinee Khanjian of Code Inconnu) are on holiday at the beach for the summer. Anais resolves to lose her virginity; Elena just wants to explore, while keeping hers intact. There are a number of discussions about this, and it's during these discussions (which also point to the "long-winded" and "didactic" charges above) that the emotional instability appears; the two girls are picking at one another one second and the closest of confidantes the next. How does that work, exactly? Oh, I forgot: it doesn't in real life. In any case, Elena finds herself a boyfriend, the older, slicker Fernando (My House in Umbria's Libero de Rienzo), while Anais, who, again, is supposed to be the plain one, has to imagine trysts with landmarks and lawn furniture. To go farther would be entering spoiler country, but I think you can plot the course pretty easily from there.

There are good things about Fat Girl, and there are bad things about it. I can't make a recommendation either way; I think this is one of those movies that everyone who sees it will feel slightly differently about, assuming they don't tar it with the overly-wide (and inappropriate, given the treatment of the subject matter) brush of obscenity. What you take away from it will, ultimately, be based on what you bring to it. Proceed accordingly. ***

While this film is clearly not for all audiences, it does make an interesting point about how awkward the issue of virginity is for women. Virginity is an interesting double standard that woman have to deal with in our society and this film explains that in a very direct way.

If you are an easily offended or easily shocked person, do not watch this film because chances are you will be thinking too much about being shocked to think about what Catherine Breillat is trying to say.

In my experience, Breillat makes films that are not meant to be "enjoyed" in the traditional sense, but rather analyzed and understood through thought and symbolism.

If you are not someone who likes to think about films past the surface, you may not want to watch this film.

I think there is a lot to be thought about an analyzed from this film, so if you're up to seeing something unlike you've ever seen before and you're not easily shocked, go for it.