Given Chrystèle’s mercurial temper, she’s unlikely to take the revelation that the foundation of their friendship is shifting sand well. It is undoubtedly true that the knowledge of Marianne’s status as a mole provides the story’s dramatic tension. Director Carrère’s rather Loachian aesthetic also manages to relay the essence of a grim shift on board the Ouistreham ferry where the cleaners are expected to clean 230 rooms at a rate of one every four minutes.īut the issue of the narrative perspective remains. If there is any authenticity in Between Two Worlds, it is to be found in her formidable bearing, the last vestiges of her pride calcified to armour. To be fair, Binoche is her usual compelling self, and she’s more than matched by the extraordinary Lambert. Are we genuinely getting an insight into the precarious existence of these non-contracted workers, or are we applauding Binoche’s willingness to scrub a loo with an air of panda-eyed exhaustion? The effect is similar to Chloé Zhao‘s Nomadland, which despite its acclaim, never clears the distance between an A-list star and its backing cast of genuine off-grid outsiders.
TWO WORLDS MOVIE MOVIE
Surrounding herself with non-actors and stripped of all movie star accoutrements, it’s acting as abasement.
Movie royalty Binoche is the driving force behind this film. The two form a bond, but of course, Marianne can get out of this situation any time she likes. It’s backbreaking work, but Marianne meets the stoic, forthright Chrystèle ( Hélène Lambert), a single mother long ago sucked into the clutches of the gig economy. Eventually Marianne finds herself working the Ouistreham ferry, cleaning the rooms between crossings from Caen to Portsmouth.
Her job centre agent tells her rather bluntly that her best option is ‘maintenance agent’, or rather, cleaner. Writer Marianne Winckler ( Juliette Binoche) goes undercover as a welfare claimant now looking for work due to the breakup of a marriage leaving her in a worrisome financial state. It’s unfortunately a misguided narrative perspective that keeps its ostensible subject at a safe distance over the chasm of the class divide. Adapted from undercover journalist Florence Aubenas‘ essay ‘The Night Cleaner’, the film retains the focus of reportage. In the week that Sue Gray’s report offered unsavory details of the treatment of Downing Street menial staff at the hands of the bilious cretins behind Partygate comes an incidentally topical film that examines the parlous existence of non-contracted cleaning staff in France.
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