Du vent dans mes mollets

I'm not normally a fan of films about children, but I liked this one a lot. It's a bit corny, a bit predictable, and at the end rather shockingly tragic, but it's well done every step of the way.

The two little girls really are very cute: shy, withdrawn little Rachel, and naughty, mischievous Valerie who befriends Rachel for no particular reason at all, both are excellent and a joy to watch either alone or together. The story involving the relationship between Rachel's parents is also pretty predictable and not without holes, but again it's done with a light and deft touch and is in the end touching rather than annoying. The character of the grandmother is probably the least satisfactory simply because while she's always there, we learn next to nothing about her.

There's a small role for Isabella Rossellini as a child psychiatrist: she's put on a kilo or two since Blue Velvet and Wild at Heart, but she's still got more real beauty than a thousand of those American actresses who can still fit into the dresses they wore when they were 18 but look as if they've spent their lives pickled in formaldehyde.

Not a great film, but I'm very glad I saw it.

After "La tête de maman", Carine Tardieu once again successfully broaches the theme of the developing child and their relationships with parents not in the best of form psychologically. In the former movie, a teenage girl who witnessed her mother getting depressed and could not stand the ordeal, did her utmost to help her get over an old heartache that gnawed her. On that occasion the director had demonstrated how refreshingly creative and light-touched she could be in the approach of a tricky subject. This is again the case - and for our greater pleasure - with "Du vent dans mes mollets". For this second feature, Carine Tardieu has had the good idea to write the script in close collaboration with Raphaële Moussafir, the author of the novel of the same name. It enables her to be very faithful to the original text on the one hand and as a director, to remain as inventive in cinematic terms as she was in "La tête de maman". This new film is indeed full of nice finds and unexpected gags , of which I will mention only one, the best of all, the silent scene in which all the kitchen cabinets collapse one by one in Denis Podalydès' back without him reacting. There are many others but I will let you discover them rather than spoil your pleasure by describing them minutely. As far as the story goes, the viewer is put in the mind of Rachel, an eight-year-old little girl and we see what happens to her through the prism of her eyes. Sensitive and smart, Rachel is nevertheless still young and sometimes misinterprets reality (for instance she totally misunderstands what a concentration camp is), which spices things up. But on the whole her judgment is sound and let's say that the grown-ups do not come out with increased stature as perceived by her : an anxious mother who wants so much to do the right thing that she becomes stifling (Agnès Jaoui in one of her least glamorous roles), an "old" daddy who, though an installer of fitted kitchens lets his family's interior decay (Denis Podalydès), a sexy schoolmistress who has no sense of psychology or justice (Elsa Lepoivre), a self-centered grandmother (Judith Magre) and so on... Fortunately for her Rachel (Juliette Gombert, whose first appearance this is) has a nice understanding psychologist (Isabella Rossellini) to help her and a great new friend, Valérie (Anna Lemarchand, a real character!, also for the first time before the cameras). Thanks to (or from another perspective, because of) Valérie, Rachel rapidly evolves from the perfect little girl (but that did not stop her thinking, mind you) to little devil up to no good... Good laughs, both on and in front of the screen, ensue of course. But Carine Tardieu and Raphaële Moussafir must be credited for going beyond the "kids-doing-dirty-tricks" cliché, enjoyable as it is. For, although it is not self-evident from the start, the substance here is serious. What the movie is about in fact is : growing up, learning who one is, friendship, parents as fallen idols, and the least expected one (but running deep throughout): the issue of death. Nothing but serious matters but tackled elegantly in a light tone that helps the medicine go down.

Funny AND poignant, inventive AND serious, entertaining AND thought- provoking, "Du vent dans mes mollets" has not been a box office success in France for nothing.

I was in a mood to watch some Mayday this morning. While browsing cable TV, I inadvertently switched to the movie. At first I wasn't quite sure I wanted to watch something like that, but the intriguing title made me change my mind almost instantly. And how grateful I am that it did!

This movie has so much heart to it. However, let me start by telling you that you should absolutely watch it in the original French version. It's the only way you can catch the full essence of this little gem. If you happen to not understand a word of the language, please turn on the subtitles. Carine Tardieu has been able to capture a powerful beauty to this movie that is allowed to blossom upon the intricacies of its native tongue. You may be brought to think that there is nothing new this film can bring to the scene; that the theme of the developing child and a rocky relationship with the parents has been rehashed way too much over time to even be relevant at this point. I implore you to reconsider and discover this enchanting work of art to find out for yourself. You will feel the joys of an amazing friendship, while it lovingly toys with your emotions and holds your heart in its clutches.

The two little girls have such a lovely chemistry between them that makes their acting effortless and very poignant in the depiction. Both are starting to understand life and question it, living every experience as an adventure together into the puzzling realms of the adult world. They instinctively complete each other, and their work is so remarkable that I would not mind having the camera just film them for the entire movie. Well, of course, that doesn't happen. (sigh)

What happens though is some wonderful experimentation with the camera work and storytelling. The focus is flawlessly taken off the subject at hand and plunged into a parallel corridor of life being fed from fascinatingly creative sources. The depth and level of detail in the cinematography will leave you startled and genuinely smirking inside.

Aesthetically, the film is a jewel. Emotionally, it is a freaking masterpiece. The gut-wrenching sentiments will overwhelm you at times, but Du Vent Dans Mes Mollets will have the child inside you delighted like a dandelion once you have inevitably bonded with the sublime Rachel and Valérie.

I highly recommend you watch this movie, either alone or with your close ones. When you lie there in awe witnessing the sheer magnificence of this film, just be prepared to cry like a little bitch; because whether you like it or not, you are going to cry like a little bitch.

I know I did.