Directed by: Alain Guiraudie
Distributed by: The Criterion Channel
Written by Eric Zhu
83/100
Long before scandalizing audiences with the Hitchcockian cruising thriller “Stranger By the Lake,” French maverick Alain Guiraudie burst onto the scene with a pair of mid-length features, “Sunshine for the Scoundrels” and “That Old Dream That Moves.” These films display a filmmaker who emerged with his sensibility fully-formed, showcasing the mixture of fluid sexuality, formalist treatment of landscape, and absurdist surrealism that make him such a beguiling presence in world cinema.
One of Guiraudie’s strongest films, “That Old Dream That Moves” observes the homoerotic longing that ripples through a group of factory workers when Jacques, a beautiful young engineer, is hired to fix a mysterious machine. The factory is set to close at the end of the week, and the wayward disappointment of the workers hangs over the worn-down warehouse and its surrounding grounds. Taking place in a perpetual twilight, the film immerses itself within this group of men, whose rituals gently dip in and out of eroticism during this moment of uncertainty.
Guiraudie establishes “That Old Dream’s” interest in the relationship between work and desire from the opening shot. Standing on a street corner waiting to introduce himself to the factory manager, Jacques awkwardly greets each of the employees, presenting the deprecated, run-down workplace as an alternative cruising spot. Guiraudie structures the film around the repetitive motions of the workday. Jacques arrives at the factory, occasionally mingling with his coworkers. He and the factory workers take a break outside, where they discuss their plans post-factory closure. The group convenes in a locker room, where they drink, disrobe, and shower. Finally, each day ends with a shot of the manager, Donand, walking out of the factory.
The depiction of the factory exists in that uniquely Guiraudie-an space between the real and the imagined. This has as much to do with the ambiguous nature of the machinery and the subtly fantastical sound design (e.g. the constant backdrop of birdsong) as it does with the disorienting visual construction of the day’s events. The factory itself, and most of the establishing shots are presented through geometric, deep-focus imagery, taking full advantage of foreground-background relations – with solitary characters receding or emerging from dense machinery, or with figures in the background longingly watching a group of others in the foreground. On the other hand, Guiraudie depicts the day-to-day interactions between coworkers in a naturalist style. Taking place either outside or in the locker room, there’s a political bent to these images, which show groups of men, sometimes in various states of undress, co-existing within a single plane, showing genuine care for each others’ well-being (shades of Fassbinder’s “Eight Hours Don’t Make a Day”). Oscillating between these two visual strategies, “That Old Dream That Moves’” tone and space subtly distorts, mirroring the characters’ uncertainty as they face the disruption of a once-stable, traditionally heterosexual lifestyle.
Eventually, two unconsummated relationships emerge, each engaging with Guiraudie’s trademark handling of gerontophilia and diverse body types. Jacques develops an interest in Donand, who spends most of the film watching not just Jacques, but also the rest of the employees from afar. The factory closure leaves him just as jobless as everyone else, but as the manager, he’s largely alone, and is surprised when Jacques asks about his future plans. Sexual and communal desire become intertwined in Donand’s melancholic wanderings, a conflict that manifests when he finds a naked Jacques alone in the locker room (another subtle gesture of corporate power dynamics dissolving amidst the closure). After rebuffing Jacques’ sexual advance, what’s the nature of Donand’s desire to say goodbye one last time?
Elsewhere, an older worker, Louis, is secretly attracted to Jacques. Jacques rejects a pass in the locker room, but simultaneously leans in for a hug in a moment that channels both desire and loneliness. Though this sexual undercurrent isn’t made explicit until the very end of the film, the eventual revelation only confirms the charged possibility Guiraudie creates between every character interaction. His subtly comedic orchestration of these slippery relations conjures a palpable sadness even as the depiction of sexuality is remarkably liberated. This clarified confusion is succinctly captured in the final scene, where Jacques and Louis leave the factory as friends. Jacques assures Louis that his lack of attraction isn’t due to Louis’ age or weight. When Louis demands a concrete reason, Jacques just responds “How should I know?”
“That Old Dream That Moves” Trailer
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