Being there
Mar 11, 2009 |
Winner of nearly every prize in the book, this film, about a year in a public school French class, is absolutely remarkable in at least four or five ways. The film’s backstory begins with a teacher, in the 20th arrondissement, who kept a journal of such a year, translated it into a novel, and with France’s “political” director Laurent Cantet, turned it into a screen project, workshopped the drama (not a melodrama) into a film, using real students instead of actors (though the students aren’t playing themselves). It might be the best film about teaching ever made, yet it has no external fireworks (suicide, murder, et al.) nor does it ever viciously sentimentalize (Dead Poets Society, Dangerous Minds and on and on). It avoids all the pitfalls that such subject matter is usually swamped by, and it stubbornly has its way for 128 minutes.
The teacher was/is François Bégaudeau, a lean, good-natured man at the helm of a class of 14-year olds, outsiders mostly, African and Caribbean students, streetwise and outspoken, skeptical about and resistant to teaching—and suspicious of the French language, and of their teacher. Quick-witted and adroit, Bégaudeau employs the Socratic method, using lessons not from a textbook so much as by discussions that evoke emotions and require critical thinking.
Before the film ends, we see one student removed from school, two female students out to get their teacher, students who refuse to participate in class discussions, a new student thrown into the mix, another with a chip on his shoulder, some miffed parents, Bégaudeau’s colleagues, a look into French notion of classroom behavior and even what happens when this teacher is accused of improper behavior in his classroom.
Bégaudeau is obviously a good teacher (with a plan for engaging students) whose strong suit is patience, as well it should be. He is careful to present himself as a full human being, not as a teaching machine nor an uncaring pedant. He obviously but cunningly wants his students to learn about themselves as well as about French, and he mixes those two goals with enormous skill, often “tricking” the students into learning.
But such teaching methods, while ideal for students of this age, are dangerous, as when Bégaudeau stumbles into making a mistake, through which some students accuse him of calling them prostitutes (this episode, a classic, has to be seen for full effect). This scene climaxes outside the classroom, as the teacher is confronted by several students and both sides lose their cool.
We also visit the teachers’ lounge, and hear comments about what is, or is not, happening in their classrooms. Because many of them share Bégaudeau’s students, we see those 14-year-olds from another perspective, and are left to form our own opinions. If you’ve not encountered groups of these youths, whether in Paris or Waipahu, you might be surprised at their classroom candor. When one accuses Bégaudeau of homosexuality, the teacher uses the subject and attendant discussion as a way of demonstrating conditional mode in French; fully engaged, the students, each with an opinion, learn the grammar without realizing it.
To the last student, these “kids” deplore French notions of decorum and class behavior and register that disapproval both verbally and non-verbally, clever kids on a roll. Director Cantet knows what to do with his cameras perfectly placed in this movie, letting us see the students close-up, capturing moods and temperament (as the teacher sees them).
The film ends as various students tell what they have learned during the school year. The stories are unpredictably diverse. After the class, one lady, her face sad and confused, says she learned nothing at all. What the teacher says in this wonderful film might surprise you. The Class, as sophisticated as one could hope, is one of the best doc-like films in years, and a second viewing reveals even more. Try see.
