Dans La Maison (In The House)
Starring: Fabrice Luchini, Ernst Umhauer, Kristen Scott-Thomas
Directed By:
Reviewed by Danielle Muir
[rating: 4.5/5]
Wow. In an industry full of sequels and money grabbers you forget how refreshing it is to watch an original concept, with not a word of dialogue wasted. Perfectly crafted for suspense, humour and strongest of all – intrigue, In The House is a French masterpiece of writing that makes for thrilling viewing.
An exercise between deciphering what is real and fiction, the film makes bold and unexpected turns at the points where you’ve been thus far lulled into a methodical sequence. Claude, a high-school student desiring to improve his writing skills, hands in his assignment to teacher Germain (Luchini). Slowly but surely, Germain and his curator wife Jeanne (Scott-Thomas) become addicted to the Claude’s tales of involvement within the Artole family, more specifically his growing affection towards the mother of his friend schoolfriend Rapha that he so tantalisingly elaborates on. Each week Germain critiques his work and criticizes various writing techniques that Claude is apparently missing, and each week Claude turns in the next chapter, the events becoming more serious with each page. To be continued…
The brilliance of In The House could not have been realised without the stellar performances of its cast. Kristen Scott Thomas is the only recognisable face for those familiar with largely American dominated cinema, and as the struggling, neurotic Jeanne she’s a delight. The film delightfully pokes fun at how ridiculous some ‘art’ really is as she attempts to fill her ailing gallery with explicit and abstract sexual artworks, and videos of six different skies filmed with subtle differences. However, this is a subplot in a story that largely takes place in the household of the Artole’s and the high-school, where Fabrice Luchini shines as the jaded, uninspired English teacher who couldn’t crack it as a novel writer. Umhauer as the central Claude borders constantly on the unsettling – with a knack for playing both the innocent and chillingly sinister. The film keeps you guessing as to who these characters really are. Is Claude real? Is this Germain’s fictional story? Is everyone real or are the Artole’s the only imagined characters? So many questions rushed through my head in an attempt to guess the true nature of the ending which, as Germaine says, “should not be expected, but could not end any other way.”
To tell anymore would be to ruin the films greatest asset – watching it unfold, crossing the threshold between story and reality, confusing character and human being and having you so invested within the storyline that every fibre of your body needs to know how this concludes. As the characters do.
