Beau Travail

A group of dedicated soldiers is professionally assembled in Eastern Africa, and taught to efficiently train in the time honoured art of balanced routine.

The locals curiously regard them as they exercise within their lands, the Legion's regimented solemnity a modern spectacle deriving pathos. 

It seems somewhat innocent and harmless as they freely stick to their upbeat selves, and build a harmonious continuity within their sombre intense ranks. 

With no wars to occupy their time and a general desire to remain aloof, the offbeat focused isolated unit peacefully co-exists with the world around them.

Unfortunately, where many find peace there are still those who cultivate conflict, and the uptight fastidious sergeant finds himself bitterly consumed by jealousy.

A new recruit proves quite remarkable and effectively demonstrates natural talent, in the eyes of their commanding officer he has great potential for a soldiering future.

The sergeant can't rationally stand it and desperately seeks to halt his progress. 

Unable to mediate his contempt.

Or accept the calm endearing tranquility. 

Once again, the evocative Claire Denis crafts a multilayered sensual tale, with a small budget in a foreign land while dealing with potentially volatile subject matter (not often you see thought-provoking low budget independent army films).

Startling to see such a tender take on formidable concrete durable masculinity, emphasizing brotherhood and camaraderie from a mutually self-sacrificing reliable vision.

The consistent observations of the inquisitive locals add so much humanistic depth, as you lightheartedly think along with them, what are they doing there?, while peace envelopes the land.

It starts off with intermittent savvy and congenially blends several different scenes, realistically invigorating the tragic tale with inherent foreign spiralling multiplicity.

Details of the plot are cleverly interwoven to the point where it seems secondary like a distant vision, the conducive galvanizing merry imagery awe-strikingly dismissing imperial entanglements.

I was hoping the entire film would continue to progress in this dreamlike fashion, not that the principal narrative is dull or uneventful, 90 plus minutes of the former would have just been incredible.

Too bad so much grief has to pass before the concluding moments fashionably exemplify, a welcoming world not so timorous or severe presenting alternative manners of masculine expression.

Stentorian peace exotically exclaimed with celebratory festive inhibition.

Rare to see anyone make this point.

Especially with such ingenious visceral exhibition. 

Chocolat

Growing up alone and isolated in a foreign nation while nestled in the country, a young child observes the inner-workings of a French colonial government.

Things generally proceed without dilemma, issue, hiccup, or re-modification, since her father's level-headed and makes Indigenous friends and local contacts.

He's gone for extended periods pursuing various governmental initiatives however, leaving his wife and child in the steady care of a clever resourceful citizen.

Who's been able to casually bridge relaxed European and African customs, with fluid evocative hands-on knowledge he feels at home wherever he goes. 

He's a jack-of-all-generational-trades and gets along well with both parents and children, like a cool open-minded and friendly babysitter who can also fix the generator or chase away hyenas.

The routine life upon the compound proceeds dependably without much uproar, although a plane lands one day nearby due to unfortunate mechanical malfunctions. 

It introduces a cast of characters representing less settled colonialist viewpoints.

Little France observes with wonder.

While the adults search for temporal occupation.

Chocolat presents a raw depiction of a select period from an atypical life, offering accounts of unfiltered memories that seemed peculiar to youth in blossom.

It's fun to watch Claire Denis's film because the narrative isn't strictly linear, there's a story that progresses throughout no doubt but it's broken up by random occurrences.

It's like a thoughtful surrealist embarkation into the innocent world of youth and playtime, in a sincere environment where the child tries to make sense of the strange conversations held by different adults.

The memories are like cool flashbacks to uncanny airs which must have seemed odd, certainly not like the familiar adventures she would have imagined with other bureaucrat children.

As it unreels, one scene after another depicts a fascinating narrative technique, where everything fits, nothing's misplaced, but the individual scenes are like mini-stories of their own.

You can pick and choose the individual tales as if you were leafing through an anthology, or watch them in succinct succession as they serpentinely structure a mischievous yarn.

Like being transported back to early childhood to freely reflect upon bewildering pastimes, the mesmerizing curious vignettes peacefully prosper through animate invention.

Held together by an African saint who can efficiently tread so many walks of life.

Unlike anything I've seen before.

Unique beauty inspired in motion.