Wednesday, May 8, 2013

6: No Fear, No Die (a.k.a. S'en Fout la Mort – Original French title)



            No Fear, No Die (1990) is the third film I’ve seen by director Claire Denis.  Her Beau Travail (1999; #65) didn’t quite work for me (but its final shot is masterful), and her recent White Material (2009; which I came across as part of my Criterion quest) seemed to be missing something as well.  Still, I’ve picked up on some consistent themes in her work which I like, and which I hope she continues to embrace.  She seems particularly fond of outsiders (not losers, who John Hughes* loved, but outsiders) and her fascination with process is somewhat marvelous.  No Fear, No Die, like her other films, seems to embrace the “somewhat” there.  As a director, Denis seems to be consciously restraining herself from falling in love with these outsiders and with their processes, and I think this might be why I just don’t love any of her work.
            Dah (Isaach De Bankolé) and Jocelyn (Alex Descas) are her outsiders here.  Dah is a West Indian Native and Jocelyn has emigrated from Benin.  Both appear to be in France illegally, but no dialogue in the film confirms this.  Both of their pasts seem like stereotypes, and I suspect this is what Denis wanted; too many details and the audience would focus on their lives before, and not the here and now.  They are in France, it seems, for one reason: cockfighting.  The script lets on that they have worked together before, and that they need to make a lot of money fast to get out of some sort of trouble.  Dah, like all movie criminals, is convinced that this is the scheme that will put them in the black.  He’s the one with the head for angles and details; Jocelyn knows the game and the birds. 

            A white man named Pierre, who knew Jocelyn as a child in Africa, has asked him now to help him start up a cockfighting ring.  The plan, they all believe, is simple enough: host the game, take bets, train ringers, and count the money as it rolls in.  Dah works the logistics, Jocelyn will train the roosters, and Pierre will provide the room.  The location as it turns out will be in the basement of Pierre’s suburban nightclub, perhaps one of the strangest movie locations I can recall.  The whole place looks like a deserted airport, and we hardly see anyone there for any reason other than the cockfights.  One gets the sense that Pierre may not be the most adept club owner.  He seems to have other problems to focus on, including a young wife, Toni, who he barely speaks to and a contemptible adult son, Michel, who he doesn’t know has eyes for her.
            The arrangements are all made.  Dah and Jocelyn will live with the birds in the basement while the underground publicity can be drummed up.  Dah buys the groceries and fixes the meals while Jocelyn works with the birds.  The film’s best scenes involve this routine.  Music – always Bob Marley or hip hop – blasts from the stereo.  Jocelyn manipulates the roosters to improve their agility and aggression.  He believes that cockfighting is an art form.  Dah paces, complains, and tries to read, but he is a man who seems unable to stay still.  Jocelyn likes the birds more than he cares for his partner most days. 
            The rooster their betting big on is called S'en Fout la Mort.  Jocelyn thinks he can beat any bird in the circuit, but he doesn’t want him involved in the gimmick fights, where the cocks are equipped with razor blades on their feet in order to increase the damage of each blow and decrease the time of the fights.  He’s a traditionalist.  Dah doesn’t care much either way.  Winning fights and adding to the bank roll are his only concerns.  Things, however, get complicated when Michel begins to make moves on Toni.  Any upsetting of the status quo could throw off the profits, as the somewhat erratic Pierre might shut the game down if he were to find out.  The situation is further complicated when word of S'en Fout la Mort’s success begins to bring in legitimate challengers.
            I suspect you know that there is more going on in No Fear, No Die than I’m letting on, but these few details should help you decide whether or not it’s worth your time.  Much of the appreciation for the film centers on its implication about the status of black immigrants, and the power struggles represented by Dah and Jocelyn’s relationship with Pierre.  In both gambling and prostitution – probably the two most exploitive entities of human existence – the house always gets a cut.  Essentially, walls and a roof provided for the purpose of vice to be carried on within them are an investment that is expected to generate lucrative returns.  Pierre may be out of his league, but he’s determined to make it in this racket.  Exploiting two illegal aliens doesn’t matter to him.
            While this economic exploitation seems to be the pinpoint of most of the critical praise for the film, I think that perhaps it undercuts a much better narrative avenue.  The social consequences for Dah and Jocelyn are never really explored.  Yes, they are forced to keep mostly to themselves in the nightclub basement, but neither ever vocalizes any discontent with their living arrangements.  Jocelyn is too focused on the birds, as well as Toni, to be dissatisfied by the set-up, and Dah seems to care only about making money.  In this respect, they both seem like one-dimensional characters, with only their occasional disputes about the music and the fight nights punctuating their existence.  We never really know how they feel about their situation; we just know what they think.
If it was Denis’ intention to focus on the process of training the birds, as I suspect it was, then she succeeds on this level.  But she never really gives us reasons why this rather deplorable activity appeals to any of the participants.  We suspect that Dah doesn’t really care how the money is made (perhaps a clue about how desperate he is too make it), and that Jocelyn comes from a line of cockfighting trainers, but no solid explanation of the betting process or the draw of the blood sport is ever given.  Again, maybe this is the point.  During one fight, Dah’s voiceover tells us that even he gets emotional when one of his birds is in the ring, but it feels more like an excuse than an explanation of legitimate excitement. 
This had to be a difficult film to make.  A disclaimer at the film’s conclusion tells us that no birds were injured or mistreated during production, which is certainly admirable, but difficult to believe in consideration of the material.  This logistic problem was mirrored by a thematic one.  How do you make a film about cockfighting without a) glorifying it, and b) going into full campiness?  The answer to “a” is by making it obvious that this is a subculture populated by sleaze balls.  Check.  The answer to “b” is more difficult.  This movie easily could have been dismissed.  Heck, I was thinking of using “Cocky” (possibly needing some roman numerals to drive home the joke) in my review about five minutes in.  Denis avoids camp with directorial class though, by focusing on the human characters.  I just wish she’d given me more of them.

Language: French
Runtime: 90 minutes

Grade: 2 Hats Off                              


*second John Hughes reference in as many reviews … no explanation

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