![]() A black screen. A low, rumbling sound, steadily increasing in volume. Flickering, slightly blurred credits (end credits, in fact), as in a long lost silent film. Violently bubbling water, underground brick-walled passageways, a lush forest. A child-sized coffin rests on a wooden floor while a Prokofiev melody fills the air. Little legs from beneath the hems of pleated white skirts appear in frame, surrounding the coffin. If one were to compile a list of "greatest first five minutes", Lucile Hadzihalilovic's Innocence deserves a place on it. This is jaw-dropping stuff, and a perfect introduction to this surreal realm of prepubescent girls and the dreamlike world they inhabit. Based on the short story Mine-Haha, Or the Corporal Education of Young Girls by German playwright Frank Wedekind, Innocence is unlike any film you've seen before. The setting is a mysterious girl's school buried deep within a forest, surrounded by a gateless wall. The girls range from about six to twelve, and are ranked in each house by age, which is signified by the color of their hair ribbons. Though there are a few adult overseers, they are little more than servants. There are strict rules, but the girls seem to govern themselves. That we learn very little about the school is more than a bit disconcerting. Other than natural science and biology, the only other study is ballet. The girls spend most of their time at play -- swimming in the lake or frolicking on the grass -- quite contented, but why are they there in the first place, and why can they never leave? The girls are clearly being prepared for womanhood, but to what end? The comments and treatment they receive from the teachers and headmistress can be taken as either genuine concern or harsh cynicism. Are they simply preparing these girls for reproduction? These ambiguities -- these unanswered questions -- create a wonderful sense of tension and anxiety that never lets up. There isn't a shred of irony in the film's title, and Hadzihalilovic has truly succeeded in capturing the innocence of young girls in the years leading up to adolescence. Their world is one entirely without males, which raises all sorts of interesting questions -- is Hadzihalilovic implying that masculine dominance (or mere presence) inhibits the natural, instinctual development of young women? Are the freedoms afforded them here impossible in the real world? But will girls raised in this manner be prepared for life outside the school? The film's delicate subject matter, combined with the occasional nude scenes, has already given rise to a fair amount of controversy. Yet most of this is groundless -- any prurient thoughts that arise say more about the viewer than the director or her intentions. There is nothing remotely sexual about the nudity, and it's quite aggravating to read critics, who with a wave of their reductive hand, can claim the film to be little more than a treat for pedophiles. Doing so, however, provides them with an out -- a means of avoiding any serious consideration of the film. (Much like the cry of 'fanboy' does for Asian films.) That said, Hadzihalilovic is perhaps guilty of slight provocation. As the wife (and former editor) of Gaspar Noé (to whom the film is dedicated), this hardly seems surprising. Though she must have known that the often voyeuristic gaze of the camera would no doubt incense some, her motivation was not to shock and/or be controversial. She's clearly very attached to the story (parable is more like it), and remains uncompromising from start to finish. Quite a feat for a first feature. From its disturbing opening all the way to its enigmatic conclusion, Innocence is a daring, brave, wholly original film that can be described as an almost somnambulistic experience -- and one that lingers for days. |



