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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